Mall Incident

Alright, so, now I’m shopping for clothes at the Mall of America. I’m looking at the shirts; but then suddenly the Mall closes. So here I am in the dressing room, trying on a white button-up, and I’m trapped. Do you remember the scene from my last lecture, where I violated your car’s dirt guard? Well, I think that I’m finally receiving my comeuppance for that prank, because dirt now comes pouring in from the vents overhead, burying me alive in the store’s dressing room. And, like I said, I’m currently locked inside the Mall. — Yes, my worst intuition of death has come true: I now have dirt all over my hair and on my brand-new loafers. So I phone the police, but no one picks up. “What gives?” I cry, with mud muffling my mouth; “doesn’t anyone care!?” At this point, thousands of moths begin flying around the sky.