They Probably Think I Am 'Casing The Joint' - 60 Second Stories By Cal

I have been walking at the malls for the past weeks. It's great to just tool around and watch all the freaks that work or visit the stores. Yesterday I started to notice that many of the mall workers dress up on Friday, especially the ones who man the kiosks for eight mind numbing hours a day. I just assumed many of them have plans to go directly from work to the bar without stopping at home first.

There is this tiny make-up stand run by what I can only assume was a drag queen or a semi-pro basketball player. She was impossible to miss. Let's call her Make-up Girl. This is not a judgement but an observation - If you want to inspire confidence in people as a make-up artists it's best that your own make-up didn't look like it was done by a truck stop hooker.

Though I am not one to give anyone fashion advice, I would have also passed on the frizz-curl hairdo and the thigh high pirate boots which gave Make-up Girl the illusion of being of freakish height. A tight purple one piece mini dress with a HUGE gold belt completed the outfit. She looked so out of place I half expected to find a stripper bus with a flat tire in the parking lot. This is Alberta after all, not New Jersey.

What was creepier, however, were the hipster guys who manned the remote helicopter kiosk right next to her/him. The two guys that were there thought they were 'all that' and were trying to make Brunhilda laugh for the five minutes that I watch the whole ugly scene unfold from behind the glass of the funky t-shirt shop. They looked like they spent their entire days trying to seduce this prize pony.

Then it happened. Something one of the boys said struck Make-up Girl funny and a low rumbling chuckle came out of her mouth. It was extremely loud and off putting - like when you discover your girlfriend can fart and burp louder than your mother and you find it out at the movies. I felt I was on some Easter European version of PUNKED.

Some people have laughter that sounds like music. The Make-up Girl was not one of those people. Her laughter reminded me of a haunting.

Not wanting to look at this girl directly (lest I be turned to stone) I quickly grabbed a shirt and walked fast to the counter. The T-shirt Girl running the till had heard what I did and we both smiled at each other with our shared secret. For a brief second, we were both in on the same joke. We didn't have to say anything to each other. We both realized how genuinely ridiculous the Make-up Girl was.

I can only imagine the T-shirt Girl going home with a different bizarre Make-up Girl story to tell for everyday she worked a shift.