The Final Days of Great American Shopping

Gilbert Allen

Description

A quirky assortment of materialistic suburbanites trying to supersize and spend their way to happiness

An affectionate satire of the culture of self-indulgence, The Final Days of Great American Shopping exposes the American obsessions with money, mass marketing, and material objects. In Belladonna, a gated subdivision in upstate South Carolina, readers meet acolorful cast of characters doing their best to buy happiness in a series of sixteen closely linked stories from the past, present, and future. Whether speed dating, test driving cars, upsizing to dream houses, flying helicopters, or lusting after designer shoes, these small-town spenders have good intentions that often go hilariously awry as they search for emotional and spiritual comfort.

Gilbert Allen is a master at character development and the individuals in this collection are no exception. Among them are the childless, emotionally distant couple Butler and Marjory Breedlove; the harried appliance salesman John Beegle and his precocious, pole-dancing daughter Alison; and the one-handed soccer wunderkind Amy Knobloch. Also featured are Ted Dickey the mastermind of the Mental Defectives self-help book series and the undefeated Speed Dating Champion of the World; Jimmy Scheetz, the pragmatic philanthropist behind Ecumenical Bedding; Ruthella Anderson, a retired first-grade teacher addicted to Star Trek and to extreme couponing; and the mysterious Gabriella, an aging Italian beauty who presides over Doumi Shoes.

Arranged chronologically, the stories span nearly a century. While most are set in the recent past or in the immediate future, the book's title story is set in 2084. It depicts a dystopian shopping mall worthy of George Orwell, John Cheever, or Flannery O'Connor, and raises the question, "Can America survive international terrorism, ecological apocalypse, and demographic disaster to morph triumphantly into the USAARP?"

Sujets

• Muffin inglés
• Detal
• Old Grand-Dad
• Self-help book
• I Wish (manhwa)
• BI-LO (United States)
• Owner's manual
• Blow Dry
• Bargain bin
• Test drive
• Muffin (English)
• Prime Cut
• Retailing
• Diet Coke
• Supermarket
• Short story
• Coup de peigne
• Carnage (film, 1972)
• Short Stories
• Consumer Reports
• Coca-Cola Light
• Retail
• Lincoln Continental
• Sam Walton
• Fiction
• Satire

Informations

• Publié par: University of South Carolina Press
• Date de parution: 30 avril 2016
• Nombre de lectures: 2
• EAN13: 9781611176391
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE FINAL DAYS OF GREAT AMERICAN SHOPPING
THE FINAL DAYS OF GREAT AMERICAN SHOPPING
Stories Past, Present, and Future
GILBERT ALLEN

The University of South Carolina Press
2016 Gilbert Allen
Published by the University of South Carolina Press Columbia, South Carolina 29208
www.sc.edu/uscpress
25 24 23 22 21 20 19 18 17 16
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Allen, Gilbert.
[Short stories. Selections]
The final days of great American shopping / Gilbert Allen.
pages cm
ISBN 978-1-61117-638-4 (hardbound : alk. paper) - ISBN 978-1-61117-639-1 (e-book)
I . Title.
PS3551.L3923A6 2016
813 54-dc23
2015022536
for Barbara, the noblest shopper of the mall
Let him be rich and weary. George Herbert, The Pulley
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
The Skylights of Hell
Dream House
Gabriella s Shoes
Speed Dating
Friends with Porsches
Flaggots
Ecumenical Bedding
The Greetus
Test Drives
Pole 101
Runoff
Halfway There to a Sweet Ride
Peers
American Savior
Peregrine
The Final Days of Great American Shopping: 2084
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The author wishes to thank the publications in which earlier versions of the following stories first appeared: Able Muse ( Flaggots ); Charleston Post Courier ( Speed Dating ); Connecticut Review ( American Savior ); Cortland Review ( Halfway There to a Sweet Ride ); Emrys Journal ( Runoff ); Kestrel ( Pole 101 ); Pedestal Magazine ( Friends with Porsches ); Pembroke Magazine ( Peers ); Shenandoah ( Peregrine ); Southern Gothic ( The Greetus ); Southern Review ( Ecumenical Bedding ); Snake Nation Magazine ( Test Drives ); Tampa Review ( The Skylights of Hell ; Dream House ); Tartts Three ( Gabriella s Shoes ); Topograph: New Writing from the Carolinas and the Landscape Beyond ( The Final Days of Great American Shopping: 2084 ).
He also wishes to thank the following arts organizations, which have provided encouragement to writers in general and to him in particular: The Novello Festival Press, which awarded cash prizes to earlier versions of this manuscript on two occasions; The Charlotte Writers Club, which awarded an Elizabeth Simpson Smith prize to Flaggots ; The Greater Augusta Arts Council, which awarded Porter Fleming prizes to Speed Dating and Test Drives ; Piccolo Spoleto of Charleston, which awarded a fiction prize to Friends with Porsches ; The South Carolina Arts Commission, which awarded a fiction prize to Speed Dating ; and The South Carolina Academy of Authors, which welcomed him to its membership in April 2014.
THE SKYLIGHTS OF HELL
B utler Breedlove wanted only to surprise her. For years, ever since The Great Oil Embargo, they d talked about getting storm windows. But something had always come up: he d have a bad month with commissions, she d want to go to Spoleto, it wasn t that hot, it wasn t that cold. Last week, though, after selling a million-dollar policy to the contractor in Sans Souci, he d gotten a great deal on some 32x40 double-hung deluxe units with spring-loaded screens. He d save even more by installing them himself. Nine screws, his new client had told him. It s easier than a second honeymoon. Butler had taken home a couple of boxes from the warehouse each day, hiding them under an old piece of indoor-outdoor carpeting in the garage.
On Saturday morning, after Marjorie had left to visit her mother in Easley, he decided to put them up. He started as soon as her Toyota had disappeared behind the row of sugar maples that marked the east end of their property. He might have to work straight through if he were going to finish before she came back for the sake of the Morrisons, who would be over for supper at 7:00. Marjorie hated them. She hated most of his friends.
For once, life was as easy as he d been told: nine Phillips screws per frame, three on every side except the bottom, to sink into the soft pine of the casing. Grunting happily with each twist of the handle, he congratulated himself for having had the sense to insist that they buy a ranch, not the split-level white elephant on Beacon Street. There he d be perched on an extension ladder, sweating like a fireman by now. Here he was getting by with an old paint-splattered folding chair, carefully splayed to avoid Marjorie s foundation plantings.
By noon he d gotten all the aluminum frames up and was ready to start shoving the glass panels and screens into their slots. He brought them out, two by two, and leaned them against the house. The sun had just pulled itself over the tops of the trees, so he decided to sit down with a beer for a half-hour and browse through the News-Piedmont . As usual, he started with the obituaries-no clients to cross off the Christmas-and-birthday-card list-and then flipped to the sports, where he saw the cable listing for the Braves-Giants game at 1:00. He had resigned himself to a day without TV, what with the windows and the Morrisons, but now his stomach fluttered with the unexpected prospect of being a perfect husband, a perfect host, and a perfect fan, all on the same weekend. And he was barely forty, younger than Rick Reuschel, who had pitched a one-hitter in his last outing against Los Angeles. He tossed his beer can into the kitchen garbage, then opened the fridge. His waistline was trimmer than Reuschel s, too. Who said Butler Breedlove couldn t have it all?

Butler felt uneasy for eight innings. He d rooted for the Braves ever since they d moved to Atlanta, but he didn t want Reuschel to lose. After the old pro was lifted for a pinch-hitter in the top of the ninth, he felt his loyalty settle into its comfortable, accustomed place. To his delight, Dale Murphy broke out of his slump with a line-drive homer, just inside the foul pole, in the bottom of the eleventh inning.
He killed the set with his remote control while Murph was still rounding the bases.
Back in the kitchen, the clock read 4:30. He d have to hurry to get the windows up before Marjorie got home. He took a new pair of white gardening gloves from under the sink, so he wouldn t have to clean the glass after he d finished. Smart.
He made it with half a beer to spare. When Marjorie came up the driveway, he tried to look as if he d been in the lounge chair all afternoon. Yawning, he waved at his wife as she got out of the car.
Tough day?
Okie-dokie, he smirked. Braves won.
She kissed him on his sweaty cheek, then frowned at his undershirt. Better shower while I get supper. They ll be here in less than an hour.
But instead of going inside, he led her past the front porch to the first set of new storm windows. He pointed upward. Notice anything different?
Oh my God, she whispered. How did you do it?
He felt insulted. I did it myself, he said. With a screwdriver and my own capable hands. It was then he noticed that her head was lowered, as if she were gazing into an open grave.
My flowers, she said.
Down the length of the foundation were patches of brown thatch, 32X40, at perfectly regular intervals.
She ran around the side of the house and let out a sound that Butler was quite certain he d never heard before, not even in their waterbed. Butler prided himself upon his powers of observation. He could always tell when a deal was about to fall through. He looked at the parched ground at his own feet and wiped the sweat from his forehead. How had he failed to notice?

After Marjorie had locked herself into the guest bathroom, he cooked supper.
Fortunately, her chicken Kiev was already in microwave dishes in the refrigerator, just in case she d gotten caught behind an accident on Route 123. He took off the aluminum foil and replaced it with plastic wrap before he put the dishes inside the Amana. He d seen enough aluminum for the day.
Marjorie still hadn t come out when the Morrisons rang the front doorbell at 7:45.
Sorry, Lorene Morrison said. Our babysitter was late.
Butler told her that some things couldn t be helped.
Peace offering, Charlie Morrison said, holding out a bottle of Inglenook Sauvignon Blanc with a pink ribbon around its neck. Next best thing to beer.
Before Butler could answer, Marjorie had come up behind his right shoulder. That s all right, she said, taking the bottle, baring her teeth in what he suspected wasn t a smile. Butler needed the extra time. He spent the whole afternoon cooking.
Charlie whistled. I didn t think you could find the kitchen, buddy. What s on the menu? Hot dogs?
Flowers, Marjorie said. He specializes in flowers.

She had insisted on taking the Morrisons on a tour of the yard before supper. Butler followed silently, as far behind them as he decently could, pretending to pull weeds from between the flagstones.
Do you know much about flora, Lorene? he heard his wife say.
Plants, Charlie said.
Lorene cleared her throat. Not much.
Then let me help you, Marjorie said. This is a laceleaf maple.
Like a doily, Lorene said. My grandmother used to make them, before she died. Ovarian cancer.
Butler winced. Marjorie made them, too.
This is a Rose of Sharon, Marjorie said. And behind it is a crape myrtle.
Even I know that one, Lorene said cheerfully.
Now Marjorie approached the house and stopped beneath the first new storm window. This was a petunia. She walked five feet farther on. This was a begonia. And those , she gestured expansively, were coral bells.
Must have been some dog, Charlie deadpanned. Did he have the wind with him?
My husband, Marjorie said, was putting down storm windows.
Charlie scanned the foundation plantings, his Preowned Ve