compulsive spending

I was walking around the Gap, gaping at the miles of aisles of black-and-white, plain, striped, and plaid flannel and wishing I could have it all, when I spotted a very suspicious-looking figure lurking in the middle of a round rack of blue, button-down cotton pinstriped shirts. He was not a very subtle character, what with the chains wrapped around his neck, the black fishnets (though they were flannel -- which is probably what thew off the roving pack of salesfolk in the first place), and the thigh-high black vinyl wading boots. I watched from my haven behind the gray-black wool pants and skirts and observed the following:

Our hero was attempting to steal forty-five pairs of cotton and flannel boxer shorts with assorted golfers and fish patterned on them. However, he was apparently completely unaware of the ink tags that were attached (never knew the Gap to be so security-conscious before). After stuffing each pair carefully down the front of his skin-tight black leather cycling shorts, he quietly crept from his hiding place and attempted to make a run for it through the entranceway. However, a quick-witted employee noticed. In her attempt not to allow a potential customer get away without at least one blue plastic Gap bag full of purchases (no, I don't think she realized he was shoplifting), she thrust out her loafer-clad foot and tripped him hard. The boxers went flying and the suspect scrambled frantically to his feet, leaving many pairs behind but managing to get away with a good lot of them, screaming as he went, "I have seen the establishment, and it wears FLANNEL!"

During the scuffle, he tossed one pair in my direction; it hit me in the head and fell at my feet. When I looked down I noticed that not only had the ink tag NOT exploded from the impact, but that there was a tiny mini-disc inserted where the dye should have been. I picked it up, snuck out of the store (avoiding the shrieks of "THOSE PLAID OVERALLS WOULD LOOK GREAT CINCHED WITH THAT BLOUSE!"), and ran home to play it. This is what I heard....

BFPT Marked-Down-To-$99.95:
compulsive spending

(intro'd with various cash register beeps, clangs, and chings interspersed with "thank-you-have-a-nice-day"s from plastic-voiced salesclerks)

I shop at Macy's
it's a part of me...it's inside of me
I'm stuck with receipts...they're charging me
compulsive spending

The me that you know she had some money once
But the bloodsucking collectors came and took it away
The me that you konw she doesn't get to spend much
Unless there's a sale there's no shopping, no way

All my pay disappears
it's the nature of...of my spending
"Salesgirl, get over here --
how much for the dress of black leather and mesh?"

The me that you know she has no guilty feelings
Until the bills come in and she's left with no way
To pay off her huge debts -- "Ticketbastard, you're a liar!
I've gotta see Lolla '98, but two grand's too much to pay!"

I could try to get more pay but I don't want to work
I could try to get a raise but I'm too new here
I have drained my checking account away to nothing
"Screw the rent, it's Spin for the next twenty years!"

Digging deep in my pockets I feel nothing but lint
Maybe I'll win the lottery
Maybe I'll rob a mint

It won't give up it wants me broke
goddamn this lack of any dough

(repeat, ad infinitum, to the sound of incessantly mumbling credit card collectors in the background)

-- lisa garibay