给 金五星市场 写情书
I’m sorry. I was angry with you and avoided you . . . But it was when I wanted to add to my collection of entertaining dishware that I began to recall our better, happier times together. Now, I really think it’s best that we start seeing each other again. Can you give me another chance?
Remember when I just moved out of my dormitory and had no money to furnish that junky, little apartment? You were there for me. We threw out those nasty flower printed curtains and had some made that looked just like they came from Ikea, but for a mere third of the price. Then you saved me from calling my jerk of a landlord—and you always knew how much I hated him—you gave me telephone cords exactly the length I needed for, and a new hose for the leaky showerhead for only ten RMB. I didn’t thank you then, but darling, you are irreplaceable.
Then, remember when I wanted to throw a party? I had no time to decorate, but you offered me endless strings of lights: little sparkly white ones, fruit-shaped ones, lights in red tubes like the chuan’r signs on the street . . . you even showed me disposable tableware and silly gag gifts. You peeled away the secrets to how the average person consumes in Beijing, you made me feel like a real laobaixing, you gave me hope. It is so rare to say that to someone . . . maybe someday I will buy some split-crotch pants for our little munchkin, hmmm?
Not only were you there for parties and housewares, you gave me tschochkes galore, things I never knew existed, but that will eventually make their way to Dollar Stores across the globe. In a strange way I don’t even miss home, church rummage sale or the Salvation Army. And I can’t buy cool paper lanterns there anyways. Are we just two halves of a whole, separated all this time across oceans? Is it fate, then when I bargain just the right way, and you suddenly give in? It’s just so fun to tease you, and getting that shamefully low price is so satisfying. I get the feeling you like it when I come around too.
I’ve learned an important lesson: appearances aren’t everything. At first I thought you were just a peasant, a going-nowhere nobody with some stinky toilets. I’ll admit I was put off by your dizzying rows of goods, they all seemed the same to me, and the final straw was when you stole my wallet. I felt like you were taking advantage of guoji youren, and I’ll admit, I was angry with you. But after a dip in the ocean of department stores carrying all your same goods for higher prices, I realizes: I can’t live without you! Where else can I buy kitchen knives, cutting boards, and scores of plastic flowers for less? Those other markets don’t give me the same warm feeling at all.
We both agree that cutting corners and saving pennies is always a good thing, and you are always so surprisingly accommodating, as long as I stare deep enough into your eyes, your piles upon piles of tuoxie! I never know what I’m going to find, but I always walk away with something, and I need this kind of spontaneity in a relationship. This time I think I’m ready to introduce you to my parents.
I love you Golden Five Star Market!
文章先在2005年的tbj杂志[/lang_zh]
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