Hank and his family woke up on a Saturday morning. Bobby was eating sausage and eggs in the kitchen, while Peggy was fixing Hank's meal. Hank walked in, his body aching from selling too many grills. He sat down and rubbed his eyes to see the meal Peggy served before him. Hank sighed from exhaustion.
"So, are you and Bobby gonna do anything today?" He said.
"Well, not that I know of." Peggy said. "There's really nothing we have to do today."
"Yeah... I sure am tired Peg, today's just a normal day I guess."
"Boy, I sure am stuffed. Well, I'm gonna have a beer with the guys." Hank stood up and was about to head for the back door. Meanwhile, Bobby was still eating the remaining sausage, but wanted some ketchup.
"Mom, can you pass the ketchup?" He said.
"Sure Bobby." Peggy handed him the bottle for her son to use.
"Thanks mom." Bobby reached over to grab it, but the collar of his shirt was stretched and tore down the midsection of his back.
"Aw dang!" Bobby cried out.
"What happened?" Hank said, about to slide the door open. He saw his son's torn shirt. "Well that's just unusual. How did your shirt tear like that?"
"I dunno dad, but this was my favorite shirt!" Bobby got out of his chair, walking up to his father.
"I know I have more shirts, but this is my favorite shirt. pleeeeaaassee take me to the mall so I can replace it. Please?" Hank sighed.
"Can't we just get you one tomorrow?" Bobby whimpered. Hank sighed again.
"Fine, fine, but I don't wanna stay there too long, cuz my legs are pretty sore and restless."
"I promise dad, they're on the first floor, right next to the entrance. Can we go now?"
"Go Change your shirt while I have a quick drink with the guys, okay?" Bobby nodded, with tears in his eyes.
"Thanks dad!" He ran to his room. Hank's jaw dropped.
"My God, since when did are boy become such a diva?" He said.
"Well actually, they'll what you called divos." Peggy said, giggling.
"This isn't funny Peg, a man shouldn't be obsessed with their clothing or appearance, whether it's their favorite shirt or not."
"Remember when you were obsessed with your nose when you had that plastic surgery? Do you also remember when you were complaining about your hair being too long. I mean come on, you get weekly haircuts!" Hank sighed once again.
"Well, all I know is that Bobby is a boy, and he needs to toughen up. And boy I tell you what, I am, nor will I ever be, a diva!"
"Yeah, whatever." Hank left the house to visit his friends.
"Okay then." Bobby said, trying to choose which shirt to wear. He was trying to figure out which shirt looked better on him. The red Polo shirt or the Ed Hardy shirt.
"Hmm, both are quite fabulous, but I'd have to say the polo one." Bobby said. He put the shirt on and looked at himself in the mirror.
"Dang it, there's hair all over it. Must've been Ladybird. Well, I'll just have to iron-"
"There's no time for ironing Bobby, just get in the gat-dang truck so we can go to the mall!" Hank said, who was overhearing Bobby in the room. Bobby quickly took his shirt off and put it back on, inside-out.
"Okay, I'm ready."
"Why'd you do that Bobby?" Hank said, scratching his head.
"I learned how to do it on the Women's network. No more hair on me, don't I look fabulous dad?" Hank shuddered and then face palmed. Hank never liked going to the mall, he thought things there were too overpriced and usually got his clothing from the dress barn.
Are we there yet dad?" Bobby said. Hank rolled down the window in the parking lot, as the gigantic mall stood before them.
"No duh we're here." Hank said. "Alright, let's get going." Hank and Bobby entered the mall, starting at the women's section. Hank blushed.
"Dang it Bobby, I thought your shirt was close by."
"Ugh, sorry dad, I could've sworned I've seen my shirt at the mall's entrance. I guess they rearranged everything."
"Sorry, sorry, sorry, I'm sooo sorry." Bobby said immediately.
Meanwhile, while Hank and Bobby traveled throughout the mall for his shirt, they crossed paths with a woman. Or should I say, a diva! 42 year old Helen Jackson, an African American fashionista. She was overweight, large and in charge. She wore a velvet purple dress and a pearl bead necklace. She had cheetah skinned, high heeled boots and many bangles on her wrists. She had diamond earrings and black, frizzy pigtails. She had heavy makeup on and a ton of mascara. And not to mention her larger than life attitude.
"HELLO? LEROID? WHERE ARE YOU LEROID, YOU SAID YOU'D BE HERE TO BUY ME THOSE HOT PINK SHOES!" Helen said, talking very loud and rude in front of the other people. She was hanging out at the women's shoe section, which was right next to the boy's clothing section.
"What was that ghastly noise." Hank said to himself. "Hey Bobby, I think I found your shirt." Hank grabbed the shirt and pressed it against Bobby's chest.
"And it's the perfect size." Bobby sighed and took the shirt from him.
"I dunno dad, my shirt was a navy blue. This is just a dark cyan blue." Hank face palmed.
"They're the same damn color!" Suddenly, Helen walked over to Hank and Bobby and yanked the shirt away from Bobby's hands.
"aw hell no, navy blue and cyan blue are completely different colors."
"Excuse me lady, but we're kinda having a conversation here."
"Wooooo, a honky redneck's telling a fashionista to stay away from clothing? Nooooooo, uh-ugh!"
"Oh I get it, just because I'm a white guy in Texas means I'm a honky redneck. He's my son, not yours." Helen dropped the shirt and grabbed Bobby by the arm.
"Come on sugar, I know a great place to find navy blue shirts."
"Hey, who gave you permission to put your hands on my boy!" Everyone was hearing the ruckus that was going on. Helen walked away with Hank's son, heading over to the steep, crowded escalator.
Look out everyone, big Helen comin' through!" Helen said, as she rammed into the other people causing chaos throughout the escalator.
"Oh boy, I thought this was going to be a normal day!" Hank said, running after Helen. He Got on the escalator, trying as hard as he could go after her, but tripped over another man's leg, and fell right on his bottom.
"Ow! Get back her with my boy, lady!" It would take some time for Hank to get back on his feet, and Helen and Bobby were almost to the top.
"Just a little longer honey, until we can get you your fabulous shirt." She said. Bobby squeeled in excitement. Suddenly, one of the high heels on her cheetah boots broke off before she could even get to the second floor.
"Dang it, that's why I needed those hot pink shoes!" Helen fell backwards. Bobby was able to make it to the second floor, but saw Helen's tragic fall.
"AAGGGGHHHH!" Helen turned around, as she was still falling down the giant escalator. At this point, Hank was on his knees
"What the..." He said, as he saw a humongous silhouette coming towards.
"Oh my... Bwaaahhh!" He cried out. Hank and Helen were on a head-on collision, and Bobby was about to witness it.
*BAM* The sound if their skulls slamming into eachother could be heard from throughout the mall. Bobby gasped.
"Ooohhh my gosh." He said, covering his face with his hands. The two of them blacked out. A mall cop saw the incident and called in 2 other mall cops to assist the situation. The ambulance arrived and Hank and Helen were carried away on stretchers. While only two people were needed to carry Hank away, six people were needed to carry the massive fashionista away.
"Dad!" Bobby cried out, running outside with the shirt.
"Sorry boy, your father is inconnpassitated at the moment." The paramedic said.
"Oh. Well um, I need to purchase my shirt."
"That can wait for another day, your father is badly injured." Bobby started repeatedly stomping the floor, screaming like an annoying 6 year old child.
"Noooo! I want my shirt now! Agh!" The mall cops grabbed Bobby and took him away.
"Get your hands off me!" He said, as his face was red as a tomato, spitting in their faces. The cops put him in the ambulance to take him, along with Hank and Helen, to the hospital.
Meanwhile at Hank's house, Peggy was pacing in the living room.
"Why is it taking so long for Hank and Bobby to come home?" She said to herself. Just then, the phone rang. It was from the Arlen Hospital. Peggy gasped and picked up the phone.
"Hello?" She said.
"Yes, are you Mrs. Hill?" The nurse said.
"Why yes, I am a Spanish Substitute teacher. Los travestis no son para los gatos asiáticos o pedos." Peggy giggled, as she said her sentence again, in "fluent" Spanish.
"Uh... Right. Well, your husband was injured in a freak escalator accident, after colliding headfirst into another woman's head. But I think he'll be fine, he just needs to rest at home."
"And how about my little boy?"
"He didn't suffer any injuries from the accident, but he suffered an anxiety attack at the hospital."
"Oh my! Is he alright?"
"Yes, but it was caused by uh... Not getting the shirt he wanted. We're sending them home."
Later that day, the ambulance arrived. Hank was limping, his head hanging low. He had an ice pack on his head, with Bobby and the paramedic supporting him. Peggy opened the door.
"Oh my gosh Hank, how do you feel?" She said.
"Blarghhhhffmmnaaalldehar... Ughhhgurrrgh." Hank said. Bobby and the paramedic put Hank on the couch.
"Sorry, but he's a little groggy at the moment. But please tell me if anything unusual is going on with him." The paramedic said. He left for the door.
"So Bobby, I think Joseph's outside playing. You wanna meet with him."
"No mom! I don't care about him, I just want my shirt!" Bobby cried out, running into his bedroom and slamming the door shut. Hank started moaning and fidgeting.
"Oh dear, you must be cold." Peggy said. She put a blanket over him.
"Ugh... L... Leroid... My... Hot pink shoes..." Hank mumbled.