the mall

a short story about a pet store, a kid who throws tantrums, and taking a shit in Barnes and Noble

I have always hated the mall.

This is not hyperbole. When I was young, maybe three or four years old - or however old you must be to truly know what your parents mean when they say “We are going to the mall”- I used to roll around on the front lawn and kick and scream and cry in the ultimate temper-tantrum to avoid going. They’d just wait for me to finis…