Zero Hour - Part Two - The Mall

The local mall is conveniently only three blocks away from my school so Rarity and I choose to walk there rather than drive.

"I'm sorry dear," she apologizes for the fifth time as we near the sprawling, modern day Agora, "But I just wouldn't have felt safe in that screaming metal deathtrap you call an automobile."

"That's fine Rarity," I repeat for the fifth time as we pass a sleepy security guard and head into the nearly deserted hall of outlet store and cramped chain franchises. "So where to?" I point out a few potential outfitters but Rarity shakes her head unhappily with each suggestion.

"Oh!" She gasps and walks towards a miniscule store tucked away in an unpopular corner. "What about there? There have some gorgeous tops and the man working there seems to know high fashion!” Ignoring my arguments altogether she heads into the boutique and I begrudgingly follow.

“Oh. My. Goodness gracious!” a flaming cashier, the only employee on shift, cries as we walk in. “That dress is B. E. A. Utiful! Where on Earth did you get it?” He’s suddenly at Rarity’s side remarking how stunning her clothes are despite my inability to see them at all.

“Oh, this drab little number?” Rarity waves it off as though it were trash bags sewn together with the facial hair of vagrants and decorated with barbed wire and unborn fetuses. “I made it myself, it’s not my best work by far but it will do when I just don’t care how I look.”

“Well it is fabulous, dear.” The man, Samuel his nametag reads, singsongs his compliments to my equine escort and turns his attention to me. “MmMmMm.” He mutters disapprovingly and folds his arms across his chest. “Such a fine young man, but all that handsomeness is wasted when you go around dressed like...” he unfolds one arm just enough to wave it in a circular motion in my general direction.

“A bum?” Rarity offers helpfully.

“Well I wouldn’t stoop so low as to use such vulgar terms...” he smiles at first Rarity then me, "But yes. So what shall we do about it?” he ponders aloud and produces a measuring tape from the back pocket of his skinny jeans.

“I was hoping to finance my friend’s makeover.” Rarity explains as Samuel begins recording my size.

“What a big boy!” he mutters just barely loud enough to be heard as he wraps the neon pink tape around my waist. “So a full makeover, new shoes, pants, shirts, and a haircut of course.”

“Do you even do all that here?” I ask as he kneels in front of me and checks my thighs. I notice he fails to write down the measurement or even actually measure them.

“No,” he replies as he slips my shoes off one by one and tosses them away after noting their size and style, “But we’re in the mall, babe, and we can do it all here!” he stands erect and wanders off to the shelves of denim and cotton clothing. “44 32, right?” he asks as he peruses the racks of brand name jeans. I answer to the affirmative and he pulls out a pair of painfully petite pants.

“No.” I immediately reject his selection. “Nothing skintight or uncomfortable.”

“So we’re looking for an outfit that’s respectable and comfortable?” he scratches his hairless chin and snaps his fingers. “We can do that! Follow me.” Without another word he strolls out into the main wing of the mall.

“What a wonderful fellow,” Rarity praises as we follow Samuel out, “And here you were worried about this whole ordeal.”

“It’s going well,” I humor her and ignore the flickering storefronts as we chase Samuel down and meet him outside of a high end retailer.

“Hey Joslyn,” Samuel waves at a cute girl in hipster shades as we walk in, “This’ll be on tab, I’m working on a full makeover project at the moment.” He strides into the store and starts sorting through their merchandise. Meanwhile Rarity skims over the sales add, muttering occasionally about new ideas for her own boutique, and I lean over the counter and flirt a bit with Joslyn.

“So why are you getting a makeover? Is it for your girlfriend?” She asks coyly and flicks a finger in Rarity’s direction.

“Nope,” I tell her coolly, “It’s just to look good for the ladies,” I wink at her and whisper “That would be my sister by the way.”

“Oh!” Joslyn gasps, “I’m so sorry... I I didn’t mean to... Oh how can I make this up to you?”

“Well,” I hand her a pen off the counter and hold my own hand out to her, “You could always give me your number.”

“You sly dog!” she giggles and prints seven digits and a quick note on the palm of my hand. “I like your tattoo.” She rubs the soft, moisturized tips of her fingers over my wrist and smiles. “What is it?”

“The Five Fingered Hand of Eris-” I begin to tell her but my explanation, along with my flirting, is cut short as Samuel returns with two nice pairs of jeans and a manic grin.

“Let’s go!” he hollers and walks off without waiting for either Rarity or I once more. “So many places to go, so little time!” he calls sweetly and Rarity rushes off after him.

“Let’s continue this conversation later,” I tell Joslyn as I head out, “How about at diner tonight?”

“Seven forty two?” she offers. “That’s when my shift ends.”

“Sounds wonderful,” I tell her, ignoring Rarity’s urges for me to hurry as I do so, “I’ll pick you up.”

“I’ll be waiting outside!” she cries as I’m forcibly pulled away by a frenzied fashionista.

“I’ll see you then!”

<><><>

Rarity, Samuel, and I spent the better half of the next hour winding our way through the maze of stalls and vendors in this mall until everything I could possibly require for a new look is assembled and tossed together in a stolen cart pulled along behind us by yours truly. In front of me Rarity and Samuel discuss prices as we maunder back towards the outlet where this whole adventure began.

“Now Samuel,” Rarity begins, “Will gold coins be an acceptable method of payment? Unfortunately they happen to be the only local currency I possess at the moment.”

“Well...” Samuel inhales sharply. “I’m really only supposed to accept U.S.D. as payment...”

“But Sammy-Wammy!” Rarity pouts and sheds a few drops of amphibian tears.

“Well... Ok, so that’ll be around, about eighteen hundred and twenty four dollars so...” he stops in his tracks, turns to us and begins to ask “Any clue how much that would be in go...” he blinks a few times and tries to speak. “Where’d your sister go?” he asks flabbergasted.

“No clue,” I lie through my teeth. “She just wanders off every now and again.” I assure him.

We stand in the middle of the empty wing for a few awkward minutes.

“Is she coming back?” Samuel asks worriedly.

“Probably not.” I reply. “So...”

“You know you still have to pay for those, right?” Samuel reminds me.

“Right.”

<><><>

I walk back to my car in a light drizzle with five bags of new clothes, an adopted sister nowhere in sight, a diner date and her number, and three maxed out credit cards. Not exactly how I’d planned my afternoon to go but oh well. At least I got to skip detention and avoid-

“Look who it is!” a deep, terrifying voice booms out from nearby smoker’s alley. “So where is it you and your little lady friend went off to instead of serving out your de-tent-chin?” the voice questions me and grows louder as it comes closer. I toss my bags into my car, barely noticing the resulting shriek of surprise from within, and turn to look into the eyes of my least favorite quarterback.

“Afternoon,” Tyler glares at me and sits at my feet. “Maybe I didn’t get my message through clear enough last time. You remember? When I broke your leg and put you in a wheel chair. Yeah you remember. So what do I hafta do this time to make myself clear?”

I look him in the eye and prepare for the worst.

“Perhaps I should start by giving you matching scars on that other leg of yours.” He threatens. “Or maybe I should just,” he pulls a thin stiletto from his back pocket and flicks it open mere millimeters away from my face, “Give you a whole new set.”

Good Goddess help me out here, I’ll take ponies and existential crisis’s over this any day.