by Theresa Carbone

Created on: November 30, 2008

Bags are all a packed,

Register a beeping.

Credit card whipped out,

At 5am when the kids are sleeping.

Black Fridays the best,

Thats what they all say,

People getting trampled,

Sounds like my kind of day.

Long lines and angry shoppers,

No Christmas cheer on there cheeks.

Just grim faces and turned up noses,

And lots of words of I wish not to speak.

"Oh sorry you got here to late!"

All of those whatever you wanted are sold out.

Have to find that damn toy,

So little Tommy won't flip out.

Searching and searching for that miracle sign,

When you notice there's one way in the back of the shelf.

Uh- oh that other Mom noticed it too,

So you cock back your purse and scream one for all and all for self.

With an extreme force you never you knew you had,

You push that stock boy way across the store.

You leap like your life depends on it,

Only to be shoved to floor.

The other Mom is grinning,

With that Christmas cheer on her cheeks.

You huff and you puff,

And hiss those words you never thought you'd speak.

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