The hordes

I braved the ravening hordes today to finish off my Christmas shopping... and failed.

Mothers with their small children were out in force, with hard edged strollers and kids whose screams rivalled any police, ambulance or fire siren.

I even started early, but to no avail. Normally polite people suddenly developed fangs and demonic expressions and children showed off their dark sides by yelling at the top of their lungs because they wanted something off the shelves. When denied, they dragged the aforementioned item down anyway.

Feral eyed staff darted for cover, lest they be hunted down and questioned at length. And don't think the men were anything other than determined hunter-gatherers, with their lowered brows, protruding jaws and eyes that dared you to get in the way of their objective.

Nope. I'm never going into a toy store again.

Not that the others stores I visited were any different: mothers ignoring the plaintive cries of their offspring, staff in hiding, children running amok between shoppers, fathers doing their best to escape the family unit...

But when I dragged myself home three hours later, I discovered now have three, maybe four gifts to get.

I realise now that today was punishment for starting early, for not joining the human wave of panic a week before Christmas. One more day. One more day and I'll be done.

The next time, though, I'm filling up on red meat; raw. Then we'll see who has the baddest at-it-toode.