wrinkle me this

Shopping the upscale malls of the Vegas strip takes stamina. Posh vendors, one after the other, line long corridors with tempting displays of luxe wares. Urbane outposts mingled with more pedestrian retailers create a mind boggling mix of merch. Glossy magazine ads come to life, mesmerizing the casual shopper. Often, this retail reverie is interrupted by an insistent voice from a store clerk. The voice oozing like a cosmetic cat-call, launches a manic sales pitch aimed straight at the shopper. “I really really like your shoes!” “Do you live here?” “Do you use face cream?” “Wait, let me get our special eye cream. I see you don’t use eye cream. You absolutely need it.” Superficial vultures hawking face cream are perched with their toes touching the boundary of their store, right up to the mall common area. They strain to conform to what must be the ground rule: Harass the patrons from the confines of your own store. Animated, they dangle a tiny shopping bag as if to gift the shopper, then pull forth a solitary 0.05 ounce packet of cream, repeating their line of gab in an effort to lure the shopper into their lair. Recently, a tourist confided in me that she fell prey to them, and was hustled into one of these stores. She ended up with what was probably Preparation H smeared on her under-eye region. To her alarm, the skin began to shrink and pull away from her eyes- which caused her to have a panic attack. Not sure if she forked over any money to these hucksters, who insisted they had lavished $500 worth of goo on her hapless face. This same cream is dirt cheap on Amazon. I decided to doctor up one of their packets after verbal run-ins with these slippery folks. Next time, once they start their spiel I’ll demurely hand over my personalized cream packet. Turnabout is fair play. Besides, the joke’s on them because mine are not common wrinkles- they’re laugh lines. In your face!