Man assaulted in knitting store by hundred of people

CONTINUED:

Soon, there was a line stretching out of the knitting store and into the mall, each person waiting their turn to give Krewville a piece of their mind—and a slap on the cheek. Even Dylan, the store clerk, joined in, delivering a gentle slap with an apologetic smile. "Company policy," he shrugged.

Krewville sat there, his face tingling, as person after person filed past him. Some were gentle, others less so, but each slap seemed to knock a bit of sense into him. By the time the last person had taken their turn, Krewville's melodramatic despair had been thoroughly slapped out of him.

Krewville stood in the aftermath of the bizarre mass slap-a-thon, his cheeks burning not just from the slaps but from the sheer indignity of it all. The crowd dispersed, people returning to their shopping with satisfied smiles. He had been humiliated, reduced to a sideshow for the entire mall. But Krewville was not one to take things lying down.

He whipped out his phone, dialing 911 with trembling fingers. His voice was a mixture of fury and desperation as he explained the situation to the dispatcher. "Yes, hello, I need the police and mall security here immediately. I've been assaulted by a hundred people—yes, a hundred! They lined up to slap me in the knitting store. Lock the doors and arrest them all. I want them in jail. Nobody effing assaults me!"

The dispatcher, trying to suppress a chuckle, assured Krewville that help was on the way. Krewville hung up, feeling a surge of vindictive satisfaction. He turned to the knitting store clerk, Dylan, who was watching him with wide eyes."

CONTINUED:

You heard me," Krewville snarled. "Nobody's leaving this mall until justice is served."

Dylan nodded, too stunned to argue. He immediately called mall security, who were equally baffled but took Krewville’s claim seriously. Within minutes, the mall’s doors were locked, trapping the unsuspecting shoppers inside.

Mall security arrived first, with their crisp uniforms and radios crackling. They surveyed the scene, bemused by Krewville’s tale of mass assault. The head of security, a burly man named Frank, approached Krewville cautiously.

"Sir, can you explain exactly what happened?" Frank asked, not quite managing to keep the skepticism out of his voice.

Krewville launched into a breathless account of his ordeal. "I was in the knitting store, minding my own business, when these maniacs started lining up to slap me! Hundreds of them! They assaulted me, and I demand they all be arrested."

Frank exchanged glances with his team, eyebrows raised. "Alright, we’ll take statements and review the security footage. Just... stay calm."

The police arrived shortly after, their arrival causing a buzz of confusion and curiosity among the mall-goers. As officers began to take statements, it became clear that Krewville's account, while accurate, was also incredibly bizarre.

Shoppers, now being treated as potential suspects, were questioned one by one. Some were apologetic, others defiant, and many were simply bewildered by the situation. "It was just a slap," said the teenage girl who had gone second. "He was being so dramatic. We didn't mean to hurt him."

Krewville, standing off to the side with his arms crossed, seethed with righteous fury. "I don't care what they meant. Assault is assault!"

As the police reviewed the security footage, the absurdity of the scene became undeniable. There it was, in grainy black and white: Krewville, on his knees, receiving slap after slap from a line of increasingly impatient shoppers.

The lead officer, a no-nonsense woman named Detective Ramos, approached Krewville. "Sir, while we understand your frustration, it appears that this was more of a spontaneous reaction than a premeditated assault. It's not exactly criminal."

Krewville’s face turned redder. "Not criminal? They slapped me! All of them!"

Detective Ramos sighed. "Yes, but given the circumstances, it’s unlikely any charges will stick. Maybe it’s best if we all just go home and move on."

Krewville was about to protest when Frank, the head of security, stepped in. "Look, how about we make sure you get some compensation? A free meal at the food court, maybe? And we’ll put up signs reminding people not to, uh, line up and slap other customers."

Krewville grumbled but saw he was outnumbered. "Fine. But I’m never shopping here again."

As the mall slowly returned to normal, and the police wrapped up their statements, Krewville slumped onto a bench, exhausted. This wasn’t the victory he’d hoped for, but at least he had made his point. Sort of.

I wouldn't open with it.

tl:dr

OP is another sad Datalounger who thinks he can do comedy. Pathetic.

It’s AI generated.