Trying to avoid the lure of 'The Duckle'

This column is to warn people about the dangers of a place I'll call "The Duckle."

I'm calling it this to protect its image and to avoid causing any harm to the people who work there. I'll tell you one of my many stories that I've experienced at this place called ... gulp ... "The Duckle."

Here's the scenario. My friends and I are walking through the mall when one of them sees something outrageously overpriced that they've got to get. We walk in unaware that salespeople are lurking behind clothes racks waiting to move in for the kill.

"Wow, this shirt is on sale for $70!" my friend exclaims.

We continue to stand there while my ignorant friends make their way to the check-out counter to buy it. That's when it happens ...

"Hey!!! How are you today?! Have you seen our new Lucky Brand jeans over there and those shirts?! That same style of shirt was recently worn by Blink-182 on the cover of Rolling Stone!" an overly excited employee states.

The employee's joyfulness over these items brings them to my attention and all of a sudden makes me want them more than anything in the world. I walk over to them uncontrollably and pick up a pair of jeans.

"Wanna try 'em on?!" the employee asks with a gleam in her eye.

I think about it while I nervously fiddle around with the 27 cents I have in my pocket left over from eating at Burger King. I'm only $90 short of owning these jeans that were made in Ethiopia by a child whose annual salary is less than the change I got back from Burger King.

But who cares? The self-centered side of me gives my thoughtful side a slap in the face and tells me to try on the jeans.

"Here's some shirts that I think would look sooooo awesome with those jeans!" she says cheerily.

Looking up just in time, I see an avalanche of shirts costing between $40 and $80 crushing me to the floor. That's when I know that I've got to escape before she realizes I only have 27 cents. But what do I do? Try them on for the heck of it? Sure.

"I liked these jeans and these two shirts," I say.

"All righty then, I'll get you right over here." she says thinking she's finally going to get some commission out of me.

"Oh, I don't have the money tonight. I'll have to come back some other time and get them."

The smile fades. Horns grow. Teeth grind. I'm all of a sudden looking into the eyes of Satan.

Luckily, I was able to make it out alive. Unfortunately my two friends were sucked into the hell-hole and instantly went bankrupt. Overall, I've decided to stick with my middle-class American Eagle clothing.

The important lesson, kids, is not how the clothes look but how much they cost. Hey, I'm just trying to be politically correct from a teenager's point of view.