Discount Store Terror

A short story of horror

By: Angela Gillaspie Copyright © October 2000

Darlene laid across her bed, held her breath, and finally got the last button to close on her stone washed Marty-Mart jeans. She slowly walked over to the full-length mirror and examined her hips, then turned to look at her butt. Each way she looked, the results were the same: the jeans were too tight.

The Marty-Mart had a sale on its brand name (MM) merchandise the other day, and Darlene just couldn't resist the allure of those gorgeous boot-cut, button-fly, stone washed, size 12 MM brand britches. Although they were the MM brand, they looked really similar to her friend's Wrangler's jeans and she just had to get them. When she bought them, she was in a hurry because she didn't want anyone to recognize her. Nonetheless, it's too bad that she didn't try on the jeans.

Every now and then, she would wash off her make up, pull her hair in a ponytail, wear dark glasses, and shop at the Marty-Mart. Her friends look down their collective noses at the Marty-Mart saying it was too dirty and cheap to shop in, but Darlene had found some really good deals there.

She works full-time as a receptionist at the power plant and most of her salary goes toward evening accounting classes at the community college. At twenty-two, she hoped to graduate soon and get a job at the local CPA's office. Any type of sale gets her attention, and she will slum at the Marty-Mart to make her hard-earned dollar go as far as it can.

Reluctantly unbuttoning the jeans, she remembered that the Marty-Mart was having its once-a-year midnight madness sale on Halloween night, tomorrow night. She decided that she'll just take these back and get a larger size -- a pair of "fat" jeans for her bloated days.

The next evening, she went to the annual Halloween dance at the army depot. She had a ball, especially line dancing with the girls to Garth Brooks tunes. Finally at eleven thirty, she made an excuse to leave. She didn't want them to know that she was visiting the Marty-Mart.

During the drive, she rubbed her face clean with lotion and tissue, pulled her hair up, and placed her sunglasses in her lap.

She arrived in the Marty-Mart parking lot and noticed that there weren't many cars. "Good! All the more for me!" she said as she donned her sunglasses and grabbed the sack with her MM jeans. The doors whooshed open and she walked up to the customer service desk.

"I need to exchange these pants," she said to the sleepy round-faced clerk and handed her the receipt. While she waited on the clerk to process the return, Darlene noticed the clerk's face resembled a pale moon -- complete with the craters.

"Just use this ticket when ya wanna check out, hon," Moon Face winked.

As Darlene took the ticket and placed it in her purse, she noticed a tired woman dressed in polka dots with a snotty and whimpering toddler attached to her hip walking up to the counter.

"Better you than me," Darlene thought as she walked over and grabbed a buggy. She wondered how women could concentrate with kids whining all the time.

In the ladies department, she pulled a size 14 of the MM jeans off the shelf; looking at the jeans, she frowned. Just to be safe, she decided that she had better try them on this time. She walked over to the window next to the dressing rooms, and looked for a sales clerk to direct her to a room. Seeing no one, she went to find a room on her own.

The hallway was dimly lit and two of the dressing rooms had no doors. She pushed open the last door on the right and tripped over several different plastic hangers on the floor. She caught her balance before falling onto the mound of clothing and empty Yoo-Hoo bottles on the floor. With her hip, she shut the door, and pushed the litter of clothes, bottles, and hangers aside so that she had room to change.

She took her sunglasses off and pushed them in her purse. Her stomach lurched when she looked up and noticed that the full-length mirror was coated with boogers. "Oh gag-o-rama!" she exclaimed. People who shopped here were definitely gross. Present company excluded, of course.

The store speaker, located directly over her head, blared that an orange-light special was about to expire on the plastic flowers in the craft section as Darlene eased her pants down, and reached for the gorgeous boot-cut, button-fly, stone washed, size 14 MM brand jeans.

Pulling them up, she looked around the dried phlegm on the mirror and smiled with approval. "Yeah, baby! You sexy thang!" she said as she imagined wearing these to her high school homecoming game next week.

A thump at the door startled her and she fell against the mucus-coated mirror. "Scuse me in thar, hun," a raspy voice apologized.

"S'Ok," Darlene said as she gazed with disgust at her hand, and leaned down to wipe it on the mounds of clothing on the floor. The room swam around her and she thought, "Oh no! I'm gonna to pass out!"

She squatted (being really careful not to touch the floor) and took several quick breaths to regain her composure. She stood up, took off the MM jeans, and pulled back on her pants. The speaker hissed as she opened the door.

For the first time, she noticed all the spider webs over the dressing room doorways. "Danged sunglasses must be too dark," she whispered to herself.

Quickening her step, she walked out of the ladies department, and decided to take a short cut through the children's section to get to the check out isle. Spooked and feeling queasy, she decided that she didn't want to shop any longer.

In the children's department, Darlene saw Polka Dot Lady intensely scrutinizing baby wipes while Snot Child wailed for a Big Bird cup. "Me wan dat Beeg Buurd!" Snot Child bellowed and Polka Dot Lady calmly selected the MM brand of wipes, and moved on to stare down the diapers. Darlene shuddered and wondered again how Polka Dot lady could be so calm. "Maybe this is her big night out while the hubby watches Bama get whupped again," she thought.

Back tracking, Darlene re-entered the ladies department when a long, greenish scaly hand reached for her from within the circular rack of floral housecoats. "Buy me!" a guttural voice moaned. Darlene insanely thought, "You're in bad need of a manicure there, sweetie," as she took off running. What is happening? This is crazy! The cold beer she drank in the parking lot during the party must've been bad -- that -- or the pork rinds were spoiled.

She careened to the sporting goods department. From the corner of her eye, she caught movement on the shelves. The stink bait squirmed, a duck call bleated sickly, lined camouflage pants stumbled toward her, and plastic worms pushed against their enclosure trying to get free. "Oh Lord, they must be attracted to my 'Jean Nate' perfume!" she thought, "What in the hayyull is goin' on? This is like Stephen King wrote a story after he got drunk on Billy Beer!"

Struggling for breath, she ducked into the automotive department and leaned against a torn vinyl bench to rest. The shop assistant was covered with lacy cobwebs and was frozen in the act of adjusting her bra strap. On the end table were 1979 issues of Popular Mechanics magazine and through the window, she could see giggling mechanics looking at the undercarriage of a 1974 Ford Ranchero. Their low-riding blue pants exposed glistening oil-slicked butt cracks. Their red eyes glared when they noticed Darlene and they shouted, "Yew need yer oil changed, darlin'!"

"Help! Somebody help me!" Darlene cried as she turned to run. But all of the workers were gone, of course. Why can't anyone ever get any service in here?

On her way out, she practically ran into Polka Dot Lady rounding the corner with Snot Child (holding the Big Bird cup) on her hip. Snot Child saw Darlene and extended her crusty and chubby arms, "Hold me!" she squealed as she licked at the snot running down her lip.

"Not on your life, Slime Child!" Darlene screeched.

She ran through the electronics department where Vanilla Ice rhymed loudly and repeatedly, "Ice Ice Baby/Ice Ice Baaaaabeeeee!" Holding her hands to her ears, Darlene screamed. She crouched in a corner next to the Elvis display and tried to catch her breath. After a minute or two, Vanilla stopped rapping and whispered seductively, "Word to ya mutha Dah-leen."

Darlene got up and took off running again, and finally made it to the front of the store where she found only two of the fifty check out lanes open. She frantically scanned the lines where she saw Polka Dot Lady grinning at her from the shortest line. Snot Child squirmed and bellowed, "I got POOPS in my PANTS!"

Darlene dropped the MM jeans, deciding that they weren't worth this torture, and sprinted toward the door.

A rabid sales clerk, armed with a sales sticker gun, jumped in front of her and blocked her way. "Ya can check out anytime, hon, butcha cain't ever leave!" she hollered as spit flew from her mouth.

Darlene fell to her knees, and the Marty-Mart faded gray as she fainted.

The first thing she saw as she regained consciousness was a pasty moon face frowning down at her. "Y'all feelin' better?" it asked.

She thrust her hands toward the customer service clerk, making a cross with her two index fingers. As she tried to get up, she noticed that she was dressed in the same the sea foam green uniform that all Marty-Mart personnel wore.

She screamed "OH GAWD NOOOOO!!!!!" fearing that she had become one of them.

"That's right, sugar," Moon Face spewed, "Yew were in the Booger Room at the stroke of twelve on Halloween, and now it's yer turn at the customer service desk!"

First in line was the very ripe Snot Child on the hip of the smirking Polka Dot Lady holding a gnawed Big Bird cup to return.

Stay tuned for more SouthernAngel's tales of horror!