The Ballad of Black Friday

Thanksgiving feast was over
And our belts were all uncinched.
We tried to watch the football game
Squeezed down to 60 inch.

“This screen’s too small,” the crowd complained.
“It's not even 3D.
How can you live so primitively
With this small TV.”

My wife threw down the trash bag
As I shoved her out the door.
“Come on!” I cried. “We’ve got to go
And hurry to the store.”

The parking lot was crazy.
You could barely see the store.
But the crowd kept surging forward
Chanting “More! More! More!”

The crush of people at the doors
Exceeded expectation.
Yet somehow we avoided turkey
Dinner regurgitation.

Inside, the crowd had filled the aisles
With boxes everywhere.
The smell of greed was thick indeed
And wafted through the air.

I found the set I wanted,
80 inches and 3D,
Ultra high-def and surround sound
And a 3 month warranty!

I tried to lift the box. It was
The last one of its kind.
But another pair of hands pulled back
And a voice said “Do you mind?”

My nostrils flared, my eyes narrowed.
I was almost blind with rage.
I’d come too far, endured too much
To lose out at this stage.

I tugged the box. The stranger tugged
It back with equal force.
So silently we pulled it back
And forth for hours, of course.

Exhausted, out of breath and faint,
I held on for dear life.
But the stranger was so tough I knew
She had to be my wife.

We hauled the set up to the front.
The check-out lines were long.
At last we paid and then we made
Our way out through the throng.

We got the set all loaded up
And raced home in our Prius,
Then parked out front and made some noise
So neighbors all would see us.

And once inside, I drew a breath
Relieved to be alive.
The sun was nowhere to be seen
At just 3:45.

But just as I was satisfied
We’d fulfilled all our wishes,
She turned to me, seductively
And said, “I saw some dishes …”