Santa’s innards splattered against the wall.      Unfortunately, that didn’t stop his now-topless hips from bouncing back and forth, back and forth to the repeating strains of “Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock...”  A second bullet did the trick, though.      Everyone in the store hit the floor.      “I can’t take it any more!” screamed the clerk.  “Over and over and over again!  Red and green!  Flashing lights!  Tinsel!”      A pulsating, almost epileptic Christmas tree (wearing sunglasses) exploded, showering us with bits of smoking plastic and wire.      The guy next to me was on his cell phone, but when I realized he was telling someone to dump shares of Mobil and buy Palm, I snatched the phone away from him.      “If he’s still alive, he’ll call you back,” I told the broker, and then hung up.  After dialing 9-1-1, I gave him back the phone, ignoring the muttering about hearing from his lawyer.      “Just tell them to get the police over here, and then think about calling someone who cares about what goes on inside your margins.”      By now, the clerk was using the rack of holiday albums for target practice.  I waited until he had shattered the latest ’N Sync oeuvre, then stood up and applauded.      “Bravo!” I said, clapping lightly.  “I’m glad someone else is as fed up with this whole Christmas hoopla as I am.  Well, maybe you’re a little more fed up, but that’s beside the point.”      He stared at me.      “Point the gun at something else,” I said.  “No red and green on me.  I have to admit, I have never understood how anyone could work in one of these stores at this time of year.  Eighteen thousand different geegaws all dancing and singing at once, and most of them in high-pitched tones that only dogs can hear.  And the same songs over and over and over.”      “Yeah,” he said.  “I think I said that.”      “So you did.  Anyway, I just want to commend you for this action, for taking this stand against rampant offensive consumerism, and for trying to shut it down.”      He just stood there.      “Your line,” I whispered, and made a little prompting gesture with my fingers.      “Oh.  Uh, you’re welcome.  I guess.”      “You know, I think you may have even added a new term to the lexicon today.”      “The lexi-- huh?”      “The language.  We’re going to coin a new term for what you’ve done today.  Just like a decade ago, when post office workers got a reputation for... well, for what they did.”  I didn’t really want to encourage him to think about what he was doing too much; something other than plastic might get shot.  “Today, my friend, you have...” “Gone Retail”      I saw the police arrive outside the store, so I moved a little to the right to keep the clerk facing me and away from the door.  As they entered, though, the door gave a little pre-programmed jingle: “ding-Ding-ding-ding   ding-Ding-ding-ding   (right down Santa Claus Lane)”      Everyone in the store hit the floor. Best wishes for the Holiday Season from Marc Lynx and all the “Missing Lynx” characters.   Click here to return to the main Signature Quotes page Click here to return to the main Missing Lynx page
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