Department Store Cabal

a melodic read-along

oneiric composition forty-four:

	The stimulation of conspiracy — camaraderie — an understanding of how things work — amalgamation based on the dually-acknowledged-by-the-ether-itself’s inescapable surroundings — petrification-to-purification: a relationship beginning at the bottom . . . 

	Yeah, new boots. Sears. Their full title is Sure Track Double Gore Pull-On Soft Toe Work Boot. I've had 'em before. They aren't on the shelves in the few remaining stores anymore. You just have to know about them — recall that they existed decades before — remember that, for years, they were your only pair of shoes & that was just fine.

To get them, you have to find a cashier & ask them look it up. Only online store orders. Always on sale. $74.99. 25% off from what they were in their heyday. Not bad. 

That's about where I'm at, too: veiled in contained-confusion, easily triggered, spreading the daze to outlying parties, only guilty by unchosen location.

oneiric composition forty-three:

	This time, I walked into Sears, knowing the procedure well. I also had a coupon from an earlier purchase: $20 off shoes/$75 minimum price. 

I went straight to the cashier: long dark hair,  purple nails, dressed in black with a trimmed thin mustache. 

I showed them my boots, worn & stretched like dough into a few undulating rounded folds like a cartoon elf bootie. They could tell what they once were & went behind the counter to look them up.

I stood watching them peck their way into the computer. I wondered if they were a keyboard player — goth: maybe just their own thing, though — at home — on their computer — dark — low — cleansing, knowing that they'll be back at the mall, their register within smelling distance of the perfume counter — their department butted up against the mattress department & the crazy, talkative salesperson there who is disappointed when customers aren't interested in mattresses with cooling gels inside.

	Goth turned around from the register. "Yes. We have your size. Online only. No in-store pick up. Mailed to your house. $74.99. Free shipping."

I pulled the coupon out of my pocket. "Oh, and I have this."

He looked at it seemingly knowing what was about to happen.

I held it out. "Can I use this for $20 off?"

He looked up sympathetically. “Since the shoes were an online-only price of $74.99, they won't let us. It's a penny off.” 

The veil pulled itself back. Confusion beamed through like a first morning sunlight. 

Goth saw this & didn't squint: "So, what you can do is come back in after the boots arrive at your house, return them, then rebuy them at the in-store price of $75 and then you can use the coupon and we refund you the difference."

The veil closed. "My name is Adam. I'm here most days. Just make sure to bring them back to me." He handed me the receipt with a website that I could visit to give a good review of him by name. I promised.

Looking for my car in the parking lot, I thought that maybe I should've asked him which days — which hours. I had a vision of walking back in with the shoebox & explaining the situation to someone else who might not understand or not want to get involved in the scheme.

It was all kinda thrilling . . .