At the Millcreek Mall, Micah and I pass the Food Court and a pet store on the way to the E-cig kiosk. Smells: from Subway to General Tso’s chicken to pizza to a chemical cleaner that’s no match for pet poo.
A couple of kids play with a pup–maybe a Weimaraner, not sure–through the glass. The transaction seems friendly. The kids aren’t taunting; the dog’s having fun, spinning, reaching its paws toward them.
As I wait for Micah to pick up his cappuccino-flavored liquid tobacco, I begin to feel as though I’m from another world. Earth is pulling my leg.
In front of me is an establishment devoted mostly to eyebrows and eyelashes.
“Oh,” I think, “you can get some kind of fabric woven into your eyebrows if you want them darker or you can make a weak mustache sturdy with facial threading.” But an eye-hair business? In this world, gracious, what you can buy!
After Micah pays, we head back the way we came. “Can you believe it,” I say, “a place where all they do is weave fake hair into your eyebrows and grow your lashes?”
“Uh, Dad,” Micah says, “I think with threading they roll thread over your hair to pull it out.”
Ah. Duly noted.
Back by the pet store, the kids are gone. The dog is lying in its cage–looking for more kids?
In this world, animals that we consider friends are for sale. Dozens here alone, like sofas or flat screen televisions.
We sell what can love, fear, even save. And we micro-manage our eyebrows.
Dear World, please stop fooling around. Some of these jokes make me tired and sad.
Me too John. It doesn’t always do to look to closely at things around you, and even less does it do to think carefully about what you see. You mightn’t always like what you come up with. At least that’s how I see it anyway. God bless you.
Hey, Rob. You know, you might just be right! Hope all’s well with you. Peace, John
You are not alone, John.
Thanks, Nancy. I just love our little web of bloggers. Peace, John
I know what eyebrow threading is, but facial threading? I’d rather take the dog. Those mall pet shops make me sad.
I’m right with you, Mary. Those pet stores are such a bummer. Peace, John