Nightmare at Victoria's Secret
by Invisible Girl
I was running low on underwear, so in the afternoon I drove down to the mall and started
bargain-hunting. I walked past the Victoria's Secret and spotted a sale, so I went inside the
store past the posters of hungry women to the underwear rack and found a frilly black one
I thought would feel good on my skin. A young salesgirl came timidly up to me, waiting
and smiling perfunctorily.
"I'd like to buy one of these. No, make that two."
The girl pecked at the computer. "I'm sorry ma'am, we're out of stock for those."
"Oh. Then I'll just buy this one then."
"Actually, I can't sell you that one. It's a display item." A little annoyed, I looked around
for another pair, the girl waiting on me patiently. My irritation was immediately relieved when
I spotted a pair of purple underwear that I was sure would look fantastic. I asked if she had
any of these in stock.
More pecking. "Um, we're out of that item as well." Frustrated, I picked a gaudy-looking
hot-orange full-bottom pair of underwear with blue dots that I was sure nobody would ever buy, and
asked if they had any of these. "Sorry."
I told her I'd like to see the manager, and waited patiently by the counter while the girl
retreated quickly through the door at the rear. A young man came back in a friendly blue suit.
The girl didn't return.
"Why are you out of stock of everything? I'm practically throwing my money at you people and
there's nothing to buy."
The man grinned. "I see you haven't heard. We don't actually sell clothing anymore. We've
been keeping this store open in the meantime while the management changes get sorted out."
My jaw dropped. I asked him why they would ever do something like that.
"It turns out that young men will pay just to see the catalogs we have full of attractive
women in lingerie. We've been making most of our money off the catalogs lately and we
realized it would be more profitable to just produce the catalog and give up this process of
selling underwear altogether. That's business for you."
I couldn't believe it. A clothing store that only sold catalogs of clothing they didn't make.
Millions of young men drooling over volumptuous supermodels wearing sexy negligees no regular
women would get to wear. I hoped to myself that this wouldn't become a trend. Then I turned to the
boy and asked him if they had any catalogs to buy at least.
With a smirk, he said, "Actually, we don't sell any catalogs here either. You have to go to our
It was at that point that I sprayed him in the eyes with my can of mace, then beat him to death
and stole his underwear. As a happy coincidence the kid turned out to be a pervert and was wearing
a frilly black number like the one I first picked up in the store.
Just what I wanted. The drive home was strangely satisfying,
and as I passed a billboard with the airbrushed models smiling down at me, I smiled back.
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