Christmas shopping. I’m casually humming along to Mariah Carey holiday stuff (yep they’re my dirty little secret), and walking through the mall, pleasantly surprised by how empty it is. I pick out the latest trendy gifts: Game consoles, stuffed toys…suddenly, I feel/hear the earth rumbling. The coffee in my hand starts doing that Jurassic Park thing where the liquid is plopping and shaking. I turn to look behind me and narrow my eyes. “What the—” My eyes widen: A sea of shopping carts is charging towards me, each one manned by a rage-infested yuppie. Open my eReader to Echo. Magic flash. A horde of yuppie bait drops into their midst—organic quinoa, assorted gear for a Mud Run, gift cards for Panera, Starbucks, timeshare ads—and the horde collapses inward, tearing at each others’ flesh and stabbing at each others’ eyes with their SUV keys. I make a hasty escape.