When Mulder and Scully walked into the strip mall plaza , Mulder knew he had crossed over into hell. As far as the eye could see, there were racks and racks of clothes jumbled together. The lighting was harsh and fluorescent, and the workers looked ready to kill themselves.
"Mulder, look at all these clothes and shoes! How are we ever going to sort through them all?" Scully said. She was right. It looked like it would take years to sort through the mess.
"Well, let's start here," he replied, walking down the center aisle.
Scully prodded at the pile of haphazard clothes.
"Oooh," Mulder said, "Look at this!" He held up a pink and green shoulderpadded powersuit from the eighties.
Scully made a face at the outdated thing, and stooped down on the floor to start rummaging.

Two and a half hours later, Scully had yet to find any shoes that would fit. They were squatting on the floor, rifling through mounds of shoes.
"What about this?" Mulder would say haggardly, holding up a shoe.
"No," an equally haggard Scully would reply. And to add to their enjoyment, a Salvation Army bell ringer was outside the store, ringing his bell non-stop the entire time. Ring, ring, ring.
"That's it!" Mulder said testily. "I'm going to ask that guy over there if he knows where any small shoes are." He got up, cried, "Ah!" because his legs were cramped from squatting, and walked over to the man who looked like a manager. "Excuse me, do you have any extra-small shoes here?"
"Well, I dunno," the man replied. Mulder was captivated with the way the man was nervously clicking his pen. He had done it since Mulder had come up to him, and had probably been doing it for some time. It wasn't just any old clicking. It was fast, and expertly done. Click, click, click. The man looked ready to explode. Mulder tried to figure out how much he must click that pen a day. He seems to click it about once a second, and if there's sixty seconds to a minute, that's sixty times a minute and...
"...so maybe if you keep looking you'll find some." The man jolted him back into reality.
"O.K.," Mulder muttered, and walked back to Scully, still deep in contemplation of the pen. "Any luck?" he asked.
"Ha!" Was all she said.
Ring, ring, ring. The bell ringer still would not cease. Mulder picked up a yellow high heel. "You know, Scully, I hear you can kill yourself by jamming the heel of a pump into your head," but Scully wasn't listening.
"Wait a minute..." she said, holding up a pair of high heels.
"Are they your size?!?" Mulder demanded.
"I don't know..." Scully excitedly kicked off the huge sneakers Mulder had loaned her, and slipped a petite foot into the shoe. "IT FITS!!!!" she cried.
"YES!!" Mulder yelled, dancing around with Scully in triumph. "Now let's get the hell out of here before I kill that bell ringer with your shoes!"

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