It's hard not to surrender

I was in the Men’s department of a high-end clothing store casually shopping when my eyes witnessed the most horrific sight.

Behind a tie rack lay a dead baby. At first, I was in disbelief. I stared at it, believing my eyes deceived me. But no, it was true. It was a newborn baby, no bigger than a burrito, dead.

From my mouth came a terrible wailing that I could not recognize and I sank to my knees in despair, clasping my hands together so hard it hurt, and I catterwalled:

“Oh, dear God, it’s a dead baby! Oh Jesus, dear Jesus, Christ, it’s a baby! Poor baby, oh Lord, sweet Jesus, save his soul, this sweet, sweet soul, this baaabeeee”

And I squealed like an animal, rocking back and forth on my knees, wailing, and crying to passersby,

“How can you people just stand there, staring, it’s a DEAD BABY! Oh my dear God, he’s dead, Christ, Jesus, save him, save him!!”

Soon, a policeman arrived. I pointed to the body behind the tie rack, just paces from my knees, and I continued to pray, my body now flailing about, knocking into hangers holding fine suit jackets.

“Sweet Jesus, steady this man’s resolve, Christ almighty, Lord Jesus”

I could not force to look into the policeman’s hands as he lifted the tiny baby from behind the tie rack. I held fists to my eyes, to block this horror of all mankind.

“Sir.” The policeman said. “There’s nothing behind there except these socks.” He said.

I opened my wet eyes and saw the policeman holding a rolled-up pair of white athletic white tube socks, no bigger than a burrito.

Well, needless to say, I was arrested for violating the trespassing order the store manager had filed against me, since I had done the same thing three times last week.

Oh well.