“I wasn’t sure what was happening,” Esther Breckenridge told the reporter outside the department store.  “It was about 5:59 this morning. The store clerk unlocked the door from the inside and before I could react, the crowd was pushing. I couldn’t have stopped it if I tried. I was in this wave of people—couldn’t get my bearings. It was horrible—but exciting all the same.”

“I’m sure it was,” the reporter commented. “And then?”

“With arms flailing, I heaved forward and felt myself leaving part of the crowd behind,” she continued. “And there it was. I could see it. Just straight ahead. I was almost there. With one great burst of energy, I escaped the tangled mass of people with only a few scratches and sprang forward to stake claim on what I had come for: one of the large white boxes stacked below the banner that read: From 6:00 AM to 7:00 AM: 19-inch flat screen TVs—$66.60 while supplies last.”

Esther Breckinridge’s story was only one of many human dramas surfacing from the depths of the retail world during the mad After-Thanksgiving Day sales. Though her hair was disheveled and she was walking with a slight limp, she had left the store victorious with a new 19-inch flat screen TV, three sets of Martha Stewart place mats of which one pair she got for half price, a clock radio for $5.99, and Justine Bieber’s Christmas CD at 40 percent off the regular price.

When asked to cover Black Friday, Brent Wade, a local television reporter, was a bit lackadaisical. How interesting could shopping be? He had certainly underestimated the high drama of consumerism.

“Over here,” Brent motioned to Craig Elliot, his cameraman.

Craig followed Brent up to the edge of the sidewalk.

Ellen Shifflett and Cindra Morris, two middle-aged sisters from Greene County, were carrying shopping bags filled with toys and towels and trinkets. Ellen had a scrape above her right eye. The left sleeve of Cindra’s WrestleMania T-shirt was torn.

“Excuse me, ladies,” Brent said.

“Who? Us?” They questioned.

“I see you made it out alive.”

“It was touch and go in there for a little while,” Ellen said. “Got a little rough but we fought back and got just what we wanted.”

“Yeah,” Cindra added. “Them old ladies act all prim and proper, but when it comes to half-priced shoes, grandmas throw down like Hulk Hogan. One blue-haired lady tried to cut in front of me at the cosmetic counter—I had to show her who’s boss.

“My kids were gettin’ the LEGO Ninjago Limited Edition Lightning Dragon Battle come hell or high water,” Ellen said as she pulled the demonic-looking box from one of her bags. “And here it is. If they hadn’t found ’em under the tree on Christmas morning, they would have killed me.”

“And Ellen and I got one of them salad shootin’ thing-a-ma-bobs for Mama,” Cindra added. “She’s been wantin’ one for a while. Wanted to give it to her for Mother’s Day, but we knew it would be cheaper this mornin’. And it was.”

As Ellen and Cindra shuffled off toward the parking lot, Brent and Craig moved onto Clyde Pinchot from Ruckersville who was carrying one of those 19-inch flat screen TVs in a white box.

“So you got yourself one of those televisions,” Brent said to Clyde.

“Sure did,” Clyde responded. “It’s for the grandkids. Got a bunch of video games, too.”

“How was it inside the store?” Brent asked.

“Crazy,” Clyde said. “Never seen anything like it. Pushing and pulling and yelling. But I got a TV and some video games so the grandkids are gonna love Paw Paw this Christmas. And isn’t that what it’s all about?”

Clyde moved on toward his truck.

Marie Stanford, of Earlysville, exited awkwardly through the automatic doors and stepped off the curb. Her hands were filled with bags overflowing with purchases and she was missing her left shoe.

“Excuse me,” Brent said. “But what happened to your shoe?”

“I’m not quite sure,” Marie answered, somewhat dazed. “All I remember is running toward the Christmas wrap display, somebody pushed me, and then everything went black. A minute or two later I woke up and my shoe was gone.”

“Are you OK?”

“Am I OK?” she asked. “Are you kidding? I bought nine packages of Christmas wrap with four rolls in each and then I got the tenth package free. FREE, I tell you. Each individual roll has three yards on it. That means I got 12 yards FREE.”

“You must have a lot of packages to wrap.”

“Haven’t bought a one yet, but can you believe it? I got TWELVE YARDS FREE!”

Brent turned to the camera Craig was holding.

“So there you have it, folks,” Brent said. “Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, and everybody is in a festive mood as they search for the perfect gift for loved ones. The true spirit of Christmas is brimming over in the aisles of this local retail store. And now it’s my turn. I’m going inside. I heard they have life-sized light-up plastic nativity figures—two for the price of one. Since somebody stole one of my wise men out of the yard last year, I thought I’d get a replacement plus a new baby Jesus; the one I’ve got is worn out. This is Brent Wade signing off and wishing you a very Merry Christmas. God bless us everyone!”

The scene faded as the reporter made his way through the automatic doors and into the mass of shoppers. The TV channel cut to a commercial advertising a local church asking for donations for food baskets they would be delivering to the needy on Christmas Eve. But who watches commercials?