‘Black Friday’ by Jen Hughes

It is named Black Friday
For it’s not unlike the bubonic plague
Spread across by rats from over the waves
And infecting the peasants.

They wait in their droves outside,
Always looking at the time: 5.59
They care not for their pride
For inside, there are discounts to be had.

The doors open, and you can feel
That it will quickly become a battlefield
Graphically violent scenes
Seriously just look at them!

There are mothers pulling other mothers hair over coffee machines
There are teenagers playing tug of war with a flat screen TV
There are twenty year old men with armfuls of Barbies
Who don’t even have children.

There’s five hipsters brawling over one iPad
There’s a fur-coated woman, basket full of multipacks of pants.
There’s a man with two supertoasters under each arm
Even though he’s actually gluten intolerant

They emerge triumphant, their trolleys with prizes
Of war. But they are just foot-soldiers beguiled
By the dazzle of having things at such a low price
The real winners here are the shop owners and CEOs.

At least in America, they celebrate Thanksgiving,
Once a year, grateful what they have, happy for living
Before to the shops they are whizzing
To fill their cupboards with more useless crap!

We don’t have this holiday, it’s queer
That we’d participate in this year
We don’t even celebrate Thanksgiving here!
I can’t understand what’s wrong with us as a species.

Copyright 2016 by Jen Hughes. All rights belong to the author and material may not be copied without the author’s express permission.

Featured Image By Kevin Main


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