Banks is Back in Black Friday

More Wild Times in the Life of the Infamous Mr. Banks:

Mr. Banks was an ordinary man, nothing more, nothing less. It was 5 o’clock, and he was up, no surprises. But, today he had not arisen to pacify his boss, Mr. Brooks. Today, he was up for a far more sinister task indeed. His stomach still ached from overuse, and he had seen more of his wife’s lovely family than he cared to see.

They had a way of being too nice, too caring. He always felt like such a jerk by comparison. Dave, her brother, told us of the hospital he was building in Nigeria. He talked with his hands, too much so, Banks recalled. It was as though he were pitching the hospital on an infomercial. As ridiculous African-hospital infomercial catch phrases ran through his head, he recalled that was up to do his wife’s bidding once more, namely to catch the bargains only the day after Thanksgiving had to offer.

He shaved, out of habit, not even realizing the act in his early morning trance. “God save me, this is going to be a rough day,” Banks grumbled to himself as his old floorboards moaned beneath him. Not completely dry from his rather hasty shower, he glared at his wife’s sleeping body, still not fully knowing how he had been conned in to this ridiculous task.

He carefully avoided the minefield of toys his daughters had thoughtfully left for him as he made his way out to his car. It was a hybrid, of course, the Mrs. had just picked up; saving the world. Banks hated the wretched thing. It’s artificial whine was cumbersome, but the worst was the conversations that ensued with complete strangers. He did not want their thanks for his selfless act. He did not want to share how he obtained it. He missed his old sedan. Sure, it was nothing flashy, but damn it did it purr.

When he arrived at the mall, people were already jockeying for position. It was embarrassing. A fat man in a tattered ACDC shirt near the front seemed to be doing a fantastic job of fending people off though. He had his wheaties today, maybe even the guy on the box, Banks chuckled. He did not understand the mob mentality this day created. People so anxious to throw their money away on gifts they don’t need for a holiday they don’t understand.
What did that make him? He was here. I guess it made him a guy that did not want to be hassled, Banks reasoned. His wife seemed to have a way with words that managed to both defy logic, but be incredibly persuasive and irrefutable.

After the caged beasts were released as the bell struck six, Banks sauntered towards the toy department, where he carefully plucked his pre-meditated selections off the shelves. He strolled around the store, invincible to the panic around him, and made his way out after he had paid.
He walked past an old man getting out of his handicap space. He appeared to be in good health. Was being old a handicap? Had he simply earned that spot through his longevity? Banks brainstormed ways to obtain a handicap permit as he entered his hybrid, and headed home, hopefully, for some much needed rest.