My guide led the way to the back of the store

Where I heard resounding carols

And saw sinners galore.

“These sinners spent their holidays here,” Preston said.

“They are the reason cashiers work on Christmas Eve

And secretly wish customers were dead.”

As we grew closer the carols grew louder.

With every step nearer the sound grew more austere

Until the noise was thicker than New England clam chowder.

Each sinner was punished for his or her favorite holiday.

Easter shoppers were pummeled by stuffed demon bunnies.

Mothers’ Day shoppers stumbled into cards gone stray.

Preston led me past these massive piles

To where red, white and blue

Adorned all the aisles.

He spoke of the sinners, “Their love of their country

Cannot outshine the horror brought on

By their firework shopping spree.”

Eternally the national anthem played

While sinners were hit by exploding fireworks

And the occasional grenade.

Preston encouraged me to keep moving

To see the Halloween shoppers

And their stomachs’ removing.

To punish these massive purchasers of candy

Demons in scrubs cut up the sinners’ tummies

And removed the organ that for digestion comes in handy.

As for Christmas shoppers, these sinners had it the worst.

They were kept wrapped up in packages

And given only eggnog to quench their thirst.

“Come along,” Preston said. “There are more sinners see.

Circle 7 lies ahead waiting for you to come

And see what happens when customers get angry.”

I went willingly, as the holiday shoppers were making me tired

And making me wish I had never been hired.