It's wicked to mock the afflicted

The experience of being in a shopping mall during the post-Christmas melees is, above most others, a situation that demands violence. All the jostling and commotion for the useless crap that although it was not worthy of a Christmas present the day before, now merits the crowds and confusion because of a ten percent discount. All that stress for what is ultimately pointless conjures thoughts of random macings. The sour look of an old woman as she rudely pushes past you to grab a discounted red pump to force upon her mangled and bunion studded foot almost audibly cries for a blast of pepper spray. Try to imagine hearing the shouts against the refusal to take the return of some unwanted gift not actually bought at the store toward the petite shop assistant from a lumbering mass of a scarlet-faced woman. I refuse to believe even a priest would deny the pleasure of filling that yelling cavity with a squirt or two of cayenne in a can. On the best of days, I don’t like crowds. Yet, they are, at times, a necessary burden when one is surrounded by half a million other humans with the same needs and desires. Post-Christmas crowds are senseless beyond belief, an unnecessary grief that requires a dramatic solution. If only there was the threat of random macings, it may help people think twice about that automatic card shuffler regardless of that seductive red lettered discount sticker.