Post by Ichigo Sumiregawa on Oct 13, 2006 22:51:18 GMT -5
“That’s right!” Added the small boy. “I don’t want you here! Just go stand somewhere you…botox using…weird ass…salesmen guy…person! I don’t need your help! Any moron can pick out clothes. Hmph. What do you take me for? Some kind of idiot?! I’ve gone shopping before. Let’s go Sho!”
He dragged the other until they had reached a section that held casual clothes. He looked over at the shirts and finally let go of the other’s hand when he decided to see what the clothes felt like. Des frowned as he looked from item to item, his back to the other. His head was spinning from all the different things. Clothes had odd labels on them that he didn’t understand and the sizes were confusing. One shirt said it was a large, but it looked so much smaller than another shirt that also said it was a large. How did he know how big it was?! He usually just told people what he wanted and they took care of the sizes, or he had his clothes custom tailored so that they fit perfectly, though that was usually for more formal clothing. What did all the brands mean? Were sizes different depending on brand? Which as the best one? Was there not a best one?! Did he go by the ads? Buy the brand that had the happiest man on their advertisement?! He picked up a few shirts and felt his head spin. Did color really matter?! He’d once heard that blue made you look faster than red…or was it the other way around?!
“Sho…” he said softly, his back still to the other. “I don’t understand this at all! I’m retarded! I lied about shopping! I don’t know how to shop! I don’t even shop for my own clothes! The colors and labels are confusing me! Why is this so haaaaaard?! Or am I just too dumb?!”
He slumped to the floor and almost started crying there and then. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, though, to prevent them from falling. People that had been in the same section of the store moved away, not wanting to be near the hysterical boy. The salespeople decided it wasn’t worth it to mess with Des, even if they did want the commission money. Des had created quite a mess, clothes scattered about the floor. He was still confused and all the advertisements in the area did nothing but make him wonder what he was doing. One told him to buy shorts, another insisted it was time for pants, and a few said that leather was the way to go. It wasn’t that he was gullible and believe everything the media told him, but it was definitely confusing him. It only got more confusing when he turned his head and saw that there was a stack of even more brands of clothing. He sniffled and shook his head, not wanting to deal with more confusing shirts. He flopped down onto the ground, not really caring that he was in a public store or that people were looking at him oddly. By now, most knew who he was and decided it was best to ignore it. After all, spreading things about the Daniels family was like spitting in the face of the mafia leader. That’s why, after a bit, people moved and pretended they hadn’t seen the boy crying in the middle of the clothing store while doing a bad job of covering up his tears.
“Just pick something out and we’ll see if it fits…” he mumbled. “This is too confusing. Everyone should just wear pants and shirts, that’s it. Then we wouldn’t have problems. We don’t need a gazillion brand names anyway! And they should learn to put the sizes on tags correctly instead of putting weird numbers and sometimes letters…or both! Just us letters! It’s easier… Stupid clothes…”
He dragged the other until they had reached a section that held casual clothes. He looked over at the shirts and finally let go of the other’s hand when he decided to see what the clothes felt like. Des frowned as he looked from item to item, his back to the other. His head was spinning from all the different things. Clothes had odd labels on them that he didn’t understand and the sizes were confusing. One shirt said it was a large, but it looked so much smaller than another shirt that also said it was a large. How did he know how big it was?! He usually just told people what he wanted and they took care of the sizes, or he had his clothes custom tailored so that they fit perfectly, though that was usually for more formal clothing. What did all the brands mean? Were sizes different depending on brand? Which as the best one? Was there not a best one?! Did he go by the ads? Buy the brand that had the happiest man on their advertisement?! He picked up a few shirts and felt his head spin. Did color really matter?! He’d once heard that blue made you look faster than red…or was it the other way around?!
“Sho…” he said softly, his back still to the other. “I don’t understand this at all! I’m retarded! I lied about shopping! I don’t know how to shop! I don’t even shop for my own clothes! The colors and labels are confusing me! Why is this so haaaaaard?! Or am I just too dumb?!”
He slumped to the floor and almost started crying there and then. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, though, to prevent them from falling. People that had been in the same section of the store moved away, not wanting to be near the hysterical boy. The salespeople decided it wasn’t worth it to mess with Des, even if they did want the commission money. Des had created quite a mess, clothes scattered about the floor. He was still confused and all the advertisements in the area did nothing but make him wonder what he was doing. One told him to buy shorts, another insisted it was time for pants, and a few said that leather was the way to go. It wasn’t that he was gullible and believe everything the media told him, but it was definitely confusing him. It only got more confusing when he turned his head and saw that there was a stack of even more brands of clothing. He sniffled and shook his head, not wanting to deal with more confusing shirts. He flopped down onto the ground, not really caring that he was in a public store or that people were looking at him oddly. By now, most knew who he was and decided it was best to ignore it. After all, spreading things about the Daniels family was like spitting in the face of the mafia leader. That’s why, after a bit, people moved and pretended they hadn’t seen the boy crying in the middle of the clothing store while doing a bad job of covering up his tears.
“Just pick something out and we’ll see if it fits…” he mumbled. “This is too confusing. Everyone should just wear pants and shirts, that’s it. Then we wouldn’t have problems. We don’t need a gazillion brand names anyway! And they should learn to put the sizes on tags correctly instead of putting weird numbers and sometimes letters…or both! Just us letters! It’s easier… Stupid clothes…”