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Lupita’s Locuras – Shoplifting 101

December 1, 2010

On Black Friday, I got trampled at Kmart. And that was after I had waited in line all night, freezing my nalgas off with a mob of discount shoppers. And to think, I went to Kmart to avoid Walmart gangbangers—most dangerous, cheap-ass, hoodrat, discount buyers of the barrio.

I thought I was safe.

After that three-hundred pound lady–who thought stilettos made her Yosemite tree trunk legs look skinny–trampled me, followed by two-hundred of her llanta-blubber compatriots, I decided that I had had enough of retail bitch-slap. I was gonna fight back.

I got intelligence.

I picked myself up, dusted myself off, found my missing front tooth and stared through the Kmart windows at the chili pepper zombie shoppers. Then it hit me…

Why go to a sale when the sale can come to you?

I set up a portable table outside the store, put up a sign.

CASH FOR GIFTS – DINERO FOR JU

I figured somebody wasn’t expecting to pay that credit card bill anyway. Not even the credit card companies pay their bills anymore.

But determined bargain shoppers raided the store like Aztec warriors. Everybody ignored me.

After a few hours I was ready to give up. My master plan to buy discount had failed. I hung my head in shame. Then suddenly…

“What ‘chu you need, girl?”

His shadow draped over me. I looked up and there stood a badass, linebacker-size cholo who would give Freddy Kruger nightmares. I smiled.

I handed over my Christmas list and a sales flyer. “I’ll pay you the amount listed on the sales flyer and the sales receipt. Not a penny more, understand?”

“Orale.”

I sat down and waited. I got patience when it comes to a sale.

Before I knew it, scary cholo pimp-walked out of the store pushing a shopping cart with everything I asked for. Even that goofy-ass doll my sobrina wanted.

“How’d you get all of this so fast?”

“I cut in line.”

I bet he did. I checked out the merchandise, handed homeboy the cash.

“Do you have a business card or something for next year?” I asked.

Suddenly, tires squealed.  A patrol car pulled up, two cops jumped out.

Homeboy ran. One cop chased. The other cop stayed with me…so he could handcuff me.

Black Friday had turned into Brown Friday from hell.

“You’re under arrest for shoplifting and identity theft.”

“That’s ridiculous! I got morals!”

“Your partner in crime used a stolen credit card and,” He pointed to a video camera, “Witnesses saw you pay for the stolen merchandise.”

Oh crap.

They never caught homeboy so I never got my money back. The cops confiscated my Christmas gifts as evidence.

I made cookies for Christmas—actually, I bought cookies at the dollar store and passed them off as homemade, but everybody appreciated the thought—that’s what matters.

Santa brought me the faux, vinyl snakeskin boots I wanted.

Goes to show…good deeds do get rewarded.

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