She had not believed me that a foam sale was a good idea. She said if we went forward with it, it was my job that would be on the line. I reassured her that with just one foam sale, we could get rid of every item in the store.
The customers were waiting outside the vast glass windows before we opened. They filed into the store, all eager for the foam sale. The shop floor was filled with wares of all kinds, but before the foam sale started nobody was interested in browsing.
Once hundreds of shoppers had gathered in the center of the store, I initiated the foam sale. An ominous rumble came from above, and a dark cloud gathered near the ceiling. With a buzzing sound, foam jet nozzles descended from out of the cloud. Once they locked into place, they began pouring foam onto the crowd.
The foam quickly filled the store. It was snowy white, and of such a consistency that you could either sit atop it or dive into it. It was moist but it didn’t soak you. It was lovely stuff, and as the entire store turned to foam, people became ecstatic. Their joy triggered their desire to consume, and suddenly they entered a buying frenzy. They went in and out of the foam, retrieving and purchasing the products that had been buried by it. It was pandemonium.
As the last foam dissipated, we realized just how well the foam sale had gone. There were no items on the shop floor left larger than a sequin, besides a pipe cleaner here and there.
“And this we can sweep up easily,” I said to her, to show that even the debris was manageable.
Little pockets of foam remained here and there but they were rapidly diminishing.
She admitted that I had been right, that the foam sale had been a good idea.