Black Friday

 “Today’s the day. The day before Black Friday!” I thought to myself. Some people say that it’s really the day where people ignore their stomachs and eat until they throw up called Thanksgiving; I don’t get into it very much (hypothalamus). It’s as if everyone’s central nervous system stopped sending signals to the Autonomic Nervous system, forgetting to tell them when to take a break from stuffing their faces. I had the next day completely mapped out and meticulously planned with spreadsheets, maps, and a twenty slide PowerPoint (Left Hemisphere). All of this data took awhile to comprehend but I managed alright (Hypo campus). At dinner I carelessly burnt myself on the steaming pile of molten gravy and stuffing that I was eating so I decided to turn in early so as to be at the top of my game (Somatic Nervous System, Pons). That night I tossed and turned in my sleep dreaming of all the great deals that awaited me at Guitar Center, Jim’s Music and elsewhere (Reticular Formation). I was awakened by my alarm bright and early to the strains of “Eruption” by Van Halen playing over the radio, and thought “Today is going to be a kick-ass day,” as I rapidly showered, ate, and headed to Appleton.

The whole 30 minute ride to Appleton was spent reciting aloud my list of various things to purchase, and eventually I didn’t even have to think about it: Gibson Les Paul Traditional Pro, Orange Tiny Terror with matching cabinet, strings, picks, strap, instrument cables. I was stocking up for a year’s worth of gigs

Finally, the store came into sight  just as Judas Priest’s “Breaking the Law” started playing on the radio, the perfect song to get you into the mood for ruthless holiday shopping at a guitar store (Occipital Lobe). Just as I arrived the store manager released the flood gates and a hoard of musicians stampeded over him to claim their discounted prizes. I made my way directly to the Orange Tiny Terror amp with “Peter Gunn” playing through my head like a crappy spy movie. Just as my Holy Grail was in sight I encountered a burnt-out hippie eyeing the same amp that I was, although his eyes were much more bloodshot and glassy than mine. As we stood staring each other down, I reasoned that I could take him easily and made my move (Frontal Lobe). The hippy, whose reflexes were sorely depleted thanks to years of smoking dope and living in VW minibuses, didn’t stand a chance.

After the encounter with the terrifying hippy, I fought my way through the dense throngs of shoppers and acquired all of the smaller items on my list, eventually coming to the glistening wall of Gibson guitars. As I gazed at the holy sight before me, I almost forgot to breathe, pump blood, and all of the other unconscious functions that the medulla is responsible for. Just then, a snot-nosed little brat stole my Les Paul right from underneath! “AAAAAAAARGH!” I screamed as I rushed to steal my guitar back from the kid (Amygdala). I took two steps and then experienced a very strange falling sensation. It was at this point that I realized I didn’t tie one of my shoes this morning and was now paying dearly for it. as I picked myself off of the cold, dirty floor of Guitar Center I smacked my head on the service desk, rattling my cerebellum, losing my coordination and balance, and returned to the cold, dirty floor completely unconscious.

Then I woke up in my bed at about noon, for real this time, wondered why I would ever go shopping on Black Friday in the first place, and reheated some turkey for lunch.

(None of this ever happened so the whole story demonstrates Right Hemisphere!)