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One of the best times to be a wayward wanderer is during the holidays. The sidewalks are packed to the brim with irate passerby; tires beat the streets unmercifully; the air is warmer purely because of the throngs of weary shoppers. My favorite thing has got to be seeing them get into arguments over ownership of a parking space. Nothing is quite as special as witnessing the handicapped grandma tear off a soccer mom's jaw with the end of her walker. I love those types of moments: they can never happen enough.

Tonight my travels bring me to the mall downtown, and what a sight it is! I work inside the mall, but I have dutifully avoided its grounds as much as possible. Aside from normally waking up by the time the place is closed, I can only take so much of a crowd; even if their collective exploits provide so much entertainment. Though, this being the weekend (and sleep eluding me once again), I thought it can't hurt anything to drop by and see the place in full swing. I may have been wrong to think that, but time will tell, I am sure. Firstly, I must park somewhere those douchebag rats won't see me. Mall security don't get much to do outside of giving employees parking tickets, and I don't feel entirely up to performing a 'demonstration' because of their meaningless pink-slips.

Jumping out from the cold of December, I gleefully embrace the heated air of the mall entrance, inhaling a good gulp - as if that will help me feel warmer. Garnering some substantial stares of resentment from shoppers, I exhale and smirk before continuing to the mall's center. My goal, I suppose, is to spectate all of these busy bodies; what better place to do that then the food court? The path to my center stage is littered with yowling cubs, spineless parents caving to their demands, and product demonstrators galore. Oh, it certainly is that time of year, isn't it? Learning your way about these crowds is an art form, expressed through many spins, clever dodging, and leaps through tiny holes in between walls of patrons walking together. After making a few successful maneuvers I feel like I can perform parkour, or place at least third in a gymnastics competition. Managing to avoid inadvertently smacking anyone, as I flail through the sea of grumpy bastards, I wonder why I don't have a gold medal by now: they could at least provide some applause!

Never mind. Standing in the middle of the food court, I now focus my attention span on finding an open chair to spectate from. Every seat appears to be taken. There are a few open spaces, though they are accompanied by pissy looking husbands - no doubt waiting for their wives to grow tired of spending their savings. I can see some chairs by a number of older folks, but I've learned my lesson from last year. If I sit next to them, I'll get ears full of how out of control the seasons have gotten, and how it was always better "back in the day." Oh well, I suppose I'll have to find a seat later. For now, let's make use of the area and get some food.

"Would you like anything to eat sir," a Wraps employee calls out. "We've got lots to choose from here! Got veggie wraps; steak wraps; bug wraps. Just you name it!" Thinking this guy is far too chipper for the mall's atmosphere, I quiet him by ordering a nice steak wrap. "Gran! One juicy steak wrap," the Hyena exclaims, bouncing to the make-line.

Looking to my side I catch eyes with a really built Steer, glaring daggers at my choice of food, and covering his daughter's ears. Shyly smiling, I take my wrap, turn to face the pair, and take a wonderfully meaty bite from the warm wrap. Against better judgment, and with a mouthful of beef, I begin declaring my admiration for the meal, right in front of the little Cow. "Oh, may the Gods be praised for such flesh! I dare say nothing compares to the hide of a healthy Cow: tis quite the hearty meal!" Continuing on my path, my collar gets caught by something: it happens to be the Steer. Balls.

"Ya know, I don't appreciate insensitive little pricks scaring the Hell out of my daughter," the Steer scolds, motioning with an open hand to his daughter, now bawling her eyes out.

"Well, I'm not going to apologize, if that's what you want." His eyes narrow, as he retracts his open hand into a tight fist. "It isn't my fault y'all can make for some tasty times. Whoa, shit!" Ducking under his forearm, I twist my collar in his sweaty palm and weasel my way a few steps back. "Careful there," I say, trying not to sound too condescending. Feeling my night isn't interesting enough yet, I decide to take another bite of my lovely wrap. "I dun want," I start, my mouth full of juicy steak, "yoo ta set a bad ezample fer yur gurl."

"You bastard," the Steer screams, charging straight at me. Recognizing he isn't amused in the least, I tuck tail and run away from the food court. Swallowing my last bite, I cut through the crowds quicker than I have before, taking no notice of the thumping of that angry Steer chasing me.

"Outta the way, folks! Big fucker coming through!" Not feeling sympathetic towards my escape, the clusters of patrons hardly part ways, leaving me to weave and leap about the place. Rounding a kiosk, I slink behind the seller and toss my wrap back to the Steer, nailing him square in the face. Barely disoriented, he tosses the poor employee several feet aside and attempts to gore me with his horns; thankfully, though, he needs to lower his head too far down. Making good my escape, I collapse to my tail and slide myself under the island kiosk.

For an older Steer, his reaction speed is pretty good, as he is fast on my heels again. Of course, his size isn't as manageable: just need to exploit that. Gaining some small ground from my pursuer, I jackknife and sprint for the escalators. 'Those are perfect,' I think to myself. 'They only allow for one person's width per side.' Bounding for me, huffing in exhaustion, the Old Steer screams at me (I think he was cursing, but it was difficult to hear), as I leap onto the center railing of the escalator. The metal is slick, but I had enough momentum to gain some high ground, before finally slipping into the line of shoppers riding the steps. Gathering my wits a bit - and some breath - I watch with amazement as the Steer attempts to do my routine. Thankfully, for me, I was right about his size putting some distance between us; just didn't think it would be this dramatic. He definitely cleared some decent ground, but hooves are probably the worst thing to have when trying to clamber on top of metal. At least half a dozen shoppers, on both sides, are mowed down as he slips and rolls back down, landing hard on his side.

Reaching the top of the escalator, I step aside and watch him try to push himself back up - all the while being pushed around by pissed off shoppers. Looking up, about to make for me again, the Steer's wife hits him with a giant shopping bag from behind. From where I stand, I can't hear what they're saying, but I know the Mrs. is ticked! She keeps hitting him with her bag and pointing back to their daughter, now a good deal calmer and laughing at her father's punishment. The whole scene stops some nearby shoppers (I think they know the family) and they start in on the headstrong Steer.

"What's going on," a raspy voice asks. Turning to my left I see it is one of the Rats on security.

"Lover's quarrel," I suggest, feigning ignorance.

"You wouldn't have anything to do with this, would you Hound?"

"Ya know, Ridley, with how often you ask me such things, I could have you disciplined for profiling."

Dismissing my transparent threat, Ridley calmly says, "It's not profiling when we've one suspect, and may or may not have video of the whole thing."

"Ah hell," I say with a sigh, looking back to the Steer, now being pecked by some aggravated Robins. "You wouldn't mind keeping this from the Commander, would you?"

"Oh come on! If I didn't tell him then we couldn't watch our elusive Lieutenant in action."

"I suppose not," I say, nodding to Ridley to follow me back to the security floor. "Ya know something, Ridley?"

"What's that?"

"Giving me any kind of authority in this mall was the Commander's biggest mistake."

"Ha, ha! Maybe," Ridley says with a chuckle. "I'm surprised no one remembers our one Fox on mall security though. You've gotta admit, with all the shit you pull on people here, they almost deserve it if they can't put two and two together."

"That's the advantage of working overnight. I just get bored waiting for my shifts to start, and they tend to be my entertainment."

Laughing aloud as we walk into the security offices, Ridley exclaims, "Damn, I wish I could get put on an overnight with you. These little movies you provide us closers with are great," he says, nodding toward the surveillance room, now howling with laughter, "but I'd love to experience it first hand some time."

Pulling on my slacks, and buttoning my shirt, I say, "Ya know, we have some extra time this week, if you'd like to train for an overnight with me."

"You serious?"

"Of course I am."

"Ah shit, I'd love that," Ridley says, bouncing with excitement. "When? Tell me!"

"Hell, tonight, if you're up to it," I say with a sly smile, tucking my shirt evenly in my slacks.

"Oh, you bet your tail I'm up to it!"

"Good. Now then, let's grab a few sandwiches before these places close up for the night," I coolly say, placing a bill in Ridley's pocket as we walk outside. "Food's on me tonight."