The VeggieTales Within
31 Jan 2005 
in the early evening 
Matt Winckler
The bright lights of the mall sparkled in the darkness like the foglamps of a 1999 Ford Expedition in the coke-bottle glasses of a bearded computer programmer. There were people here, but not too many people. The hunter moved silently and swiftly to the entrance–not making eye contact, not pausing for anything, not relenting his steely gaze, which was fixed firmly upon the horizon of the future.
It was a Thursday night, and the mall was filled with the hum of humanity. The half-broken remains of one of capitalism’s minions sat on its pedestal outside of Azteca in the form of children’s “rides”–pure, unadultured depression with a smiley face painted on. The hunter strode onward.
On the right was an athletic gear store filled with shiny slick pants, baseball caps meant to be worn either backwards, at a rakish angle, or both, and shoes that were worthless in any environment save for polished hardwood floors and high school hallways. The hunter, disgusted, did not even pause his significant strides.
On the left there appeared a cluster of suspects, arrayed in typical suspect clothing. The hunter mused that the suspect clothing manufacturers ought to do something about quality control, being that so much of their wares seem to fall apart so quickly. On the other hand, the hunter considered, perhaps the rapid degradation of suspect gear was caused by various portions of it dragging along the ground. Good suspect gear might be hard to find, but it was even harder to find good suspect gear that maintained structural integrity in spite of its crotch being dragged across muddy pavement. Plus, not many clothing manufacturers made jeans with a thirty-inch outseam and a four-inch inseam. The hunter increased his pace.
Another athletic store on the left–more of the same. A wireless phone store in the center aisle–vultures, all of them. A lingerie store on the left–hanging your underclothes out in public is no longer a disgrace. The hunter’s vision began to blur.
An apparition loomed out of the blur on the left–it was an Abercrombie & Fitch outlet, its interior atrocities thoughtfully blocked by a large billboard of gay soft porn. If it was a clothing store, why wasn’t that guy wearing clothing? The hunter, faced with the accumulating effects of the environment, nearly power unloaded his lunch all over the floor. He managed to overcome his mental anguish and forced the gag reflex back down. His speed of advance increased slightly to something between a fast walk and a jog. Rapidly he consulted his internal map: deliverance was close at hand. He had only to prevail against this last great hurdle, and the freedom of the crisp night air would welcome him back.
From behind a cell phone peddler’s booth, bright colors were eminating. The hunter clenched his teeth. This was it.
Garish colors burst out from the center of the walkway. A small explosion of lime green, canary yellow, candy apple red, and royal purple all combined into an explosion of tackiness. The horrible maelstrom of colors combined reached out to grab idle wanderers by the throat and vehemently shout at them the profane propaganda of rubber duckies and garden vegetables, coated in a sugar-Truth mixture that the victims might swallow such a bitter pill more readily. Bulging cartoon eyes leered out from the display, proclaiming that righteousness belongs to those who are content with their own rubber duckies. The hunter’s step faltered a moment–but no! the cart sentries, clad in their liegelord’s garish uniforms, were on the far side, swimming among the putrid plushies and discussing their frustrated love lives. Footstep followed footstep–faster, now faster, now faster, pounding almost as loudly as his heart. The darkness seeped in through a bank of double doors, offering hope, protection, and temporary salvation from this terrible nightmare. The world spun, but the hunter’s steps remained constant and focused. He held his breath–only ten more steps! A handicapped entrance stood to the right–no double doors; only a single door separating him from the outside!
The door burst open. Darkness opened its inviting arms. The hunter plunged into the waiting sanity like a car driven off the end of a pier plunges into the waiting ocean. The mist swirled around him as his steps diminished into the sea of asphalt.