Now at Whole Foods: Clothes 100% Off

Danielle Parnell chuckled inwardly as she skillfully maneuvered her brand-new Mercedes convertible from one crowded lane to the next in the proverbial parking lot that was Washington, D.C. rush hour traffic. With a fake smile on her beautiful face and a wave of her perfectly manicured, highly bejeweled hand she had easily created the space into which her six-figure German chariot now slid. Having just turned 44, but with a face and body of women half her age, the 5' 3" Danielle Marie Parnell loved the effect that her beauty and wiles had on the opposite sex. For sport, she longed for the opportunity to "catch" one of the many men or boys who couldn't take his eyes off her and, in so doing, to publicly and loudly shame him for his inappropriate behavior.

"Eyes up here, Mr. Hess . . . exactly what are you staring at Dr. Bloom . . . your mother would be ashamed of you Hank Hayes," she reflected on a few of her past triumphs.

What was even sweeter to Danielle than the embarrassment heaped upon her male prey, however, was to castigate the unwitting losers in front of their wives, mothers or girlfriends and in so doing to humiliate those women with the knowledge that their men couldn't keep their eyes off Mrs. Parnell's stunning face and figure. Maybe if they took better care of themselves their mates wouldn't be so easily distracted she thought. But they don't -- the hags.

Having manipulated yet another foolish man with a mere smile and a wave, the self-satisfied power lawyer and mother of three eased her car into the circle drive of Gonzaga High School, a very prestigious all-boys institution of higher learning where her only son, Will, was just beginning his sophomore year. Ordinarily, Alia, the Parnell family nanny, was tasked with the responsibility of picking-up Will from school but due to her being sidelined with the flu -- allegedly -- Danielle was forced this day to take the task upon herself.

Although the stunning uber-MILF had earlier texted her 18-year-old son, a senior at the elite high school, to make sure he was waiting at the curb when she arrived, Danielle was annoyed to see Will chatting with some of his other senior friends as well as a small cadre of senior girls from Georgetown Visitation, Gonzaga's sister school, at the top of the marble staircase that descended from the venerable establishment's large oak doors down to the street. Piqued at her eldest child's inability to follow directions, Danielle put her car angrily into park and stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of his school.

"William Parnell," she bellowed, "you get down here this instant do you hear me. What is it about 'be waiting for me when I arrive' that you failed to understand."

For those male students and teachers who hadn't seen the suburban sexpot step from her car, the sound of her voice shrilly henpecking Will into submission was all they needed to focus their attention on the spectacular vision in their midst. Standing regally before them in 5" Christian Louboutin Fifi, black, patent leather heels, from which extended perfectly crafted ankles and femininely muscled calves which, covered completely in opaque black tights, disappeared immediately above her knees into a form-fitting, charcoal grey, tweed Escada pencil skirt, was every high school boy's dream.

That same fantasy was not shared either by the other mothers who had stopped to pick up their own sons -- many of whom had suffered snide comments, eye rolls or worse at the hands of Danielle in her new role as Mother's Guild President -- or by the 18-year-old girls from Visitation who noticed immediately the attention that seconds ago was being lavished upon them had instantly shifted to Danielle.

Up top, the preening diva sported a form-fitting Prada, black, leather, motorcycle jacket that -- zipped about one-third of the way up from her mouth-wateringly fit waist -- revealed beneath it a crisp black, cotton, Ralph Lauren form-fitting oxford shirt the top two buttons of which -- open as they were -- teased the eye with the beginnings of a tan-skinned canyon that bisected the swell of her magnificently pert and quite ample bosom. Suffice it to say, the strength of Gonzaga's standard issue khaki trousers was being tested mightily that day.

"I said this instant," the raging beauty continued, as fire filled her emerald eyes and the wind tossed her spectacularly coiffed brown mane, highlighted with wisps of blonde.

"Ooooh, William," teased Callum Duncan, a classmate of Will's who had been talking to him when his mom arrived, "you better hurry up so your mommy doesn't spank you."

"Shut up Callum," Will responded angrily, once again wishing his mother didn't always insist on embarrassing him in front of his friends -- particularly in front of the girls who were now all pointing and giggling at him.

"Tough talk wimp," added Sam Sweeney, another of Will's classmates who was a great athlete and looked more a man than boy, "maybe if I'm a bad little boy like you, your MILF-y mommy will give me a spanking."

As Callum, Sam and the other kids laughed heartily at his expense, Will Parnell made his way toward his mother's car. Unfortunately for him, and adding exponentially to his indignity, Danielle determined he was not moving quickly enough and, grabbing him by his ear as she practically dragged him to the passenger side door loudly chided "when I say now I mean now young man."

As if that wasn't degrading enough for the humiliated boy, the preening alpha lawyer next proceeded to veritably strut up the stairs to where Will's tormentors remained and, staring menacingly up into the shocked Sam Sweeney's face, haughtily proclaimed, "I heard what you said little boy and if you were my son Sam Sweeney - more like Sam Weenie -- I wouldn't hesitate for a minute to give you the spanking you so heartily deserve. Given your churlish manners I expect your mother deserves one even more -- shame on the both of you."

As the usually hyper-confident Sam stood speechless and clearly embarrassed, Callum Duncan and the other boys who witnessed his humbling could only laugh. What made it worse was that Sam's new girlfriend -- the 18 year old Amanda Silver -- was also laughing hysterically.

"I guess she showed you tough guy," one boy teased.

"See you tomorrow -- little boy," laughed another.

"Yeah, adios Sam Weenie," joshed a third.

"Cut it out you jerks," the embarrassed "big man on campus" whined weakly, before turning red-faced to Amanda.

"I think it would be best if we were only friends for now," the stunning red head informed him as she turned to walk away. "I should really be dating college guys now anyway."

Cut to his very quick, the castigated teen seethed to his friend Callum, "that Mrs. Parnell is such a snob -- someday she's going to get hers and I just hope I'm there to see it."

"Me too," said Callum as he thought about how Will's pushy but ridiculously hot mom might be taken down a peg or two, "my mom says she's nothing but an arrogant show-off."

Meanwhile, satisfied with what she perceived as the defense of her son's "dignity," Danielle slid into her waiting Mercedes and eased her car back out into traffic.

"Mom," whined Will, "why did you do that? Now all the guys are going to make fun of me even more."

"Be quiet Will -- I did that to show you that you need to stick up for yourself, so you don't end up looking like a fool," snapped Danielle. "By the way, with Alia supposedly sick, we're going to need to stop at Whole Foods in Annapolis on the way home to pick up some groceries and I expect you to help me carry them."

"Yes, mom," Will said dejectedly without the least hint of resistance.

If only he had remembered that Sam Sweeney worked after school stocking shelves at the Annapolis Whole Foods, Will may have protested his mom's decision. If he had any idea that Sam got the job because his mother, Mrs. Sweeney, was the Whole Foods manager, he would have been wise to insist they shop elsewhere. Unfortunately -- he did not.

* * *

Pulling into the Whole Foods parking lot, Danielle quickly spied a car backing out from a desirable spot near the entrance. That someone else had clearly been waiting for it meant nothing to the entitled prima donna who, without as much as a wave or a mouthed "excuse me," whisked speedily into the vacated parking space whilst the person who had been idling patiently was blocked by the departure of its former occupant.

"Mom," Will implored as his mother opened her door to head into the grocery store, "that lady was waiting for this spot."

"Well she can keep waiting until we're done then can't she," replied his mother frostily, "you snooze, you lose -- now let's go."

Then, glancing at the shopping cart that was pressed against her bumper -- due to her carelessly running into it rather than it rolling into the car -- the supercilious diva continued, "typical, some fat, stay-at-home cow decides to carelessly roll her cart across the lot and none of these useless stock boys can find a moment to move it. The manager is going to hear about this."

Rachel Miras couldn't believe her ears -- well, actually she could -- that officious show-off Parnell, who liked nothing more than strutting around Davidsonville in her high fashion outfits while teasing every man she saw and shaming every woman, had not only just snaked her out of a parking spot but explained to her son when he questioned that decision the virtue of her unbridled arrogance. And that she was going to give the manager an earful after she blindly hit a shopping cart -- unbelievable. Turning to her own son Billy, yet another senior classmate of Will's at Gonzaga who had tagged along with Rachel to pick up some groceries, Mrs. Miras lamented, "just once I'd like to see the tables turned on her." That time was nigh.

* * *

With Will pushing the shopping cart behind her, Mrs. Parnell announced her entrance by way of the tell-tale click clacking of her high heels on Whole Foods' Spanish-tiled floors. Although that sound is music to the ears of men the world over, when it heralds the coming of a beauty as spectacular as Mrs. Parnell it makes for an even sweeter song. Not surprisingly then, and despite most of them having put in a long day at the office themselves, the male population of the trendy organic market stood a bit straighter, smiled a bit brighter and . . . stoking the fire of their target's insatiable ego even further . . . stared a bit harder as Danielle Marie Parnell stalked the aisles before them with a little extra sway in her shapely hips soaking in their adulation.

Although she looked with disdain on the pathetic soccer moms, den mothers, math teachers and other assorted cubicle monkeys that constituted the stores general female shopping population -- all of whom she deemed unworthy in her presence -- she took extreme pleasure in stealing the gazes of their male spouses, sons and other erstwhile companions. As she so often reminded herself, "these men all want to see me and the women all want to be me."

Not accustomed to doing her own shopping, Danielle expected that there would be no upside to the menial exercise. That thought abandoned her, however, when she spotted the heavy-set woman who, bedecked in flat, black, comfortable, rubber soled shoes, ill-fitting rayon pants and an untucked, over-sized, black cotton oxford shirt emblazoned with the words Whole Foods Market on one shabby pocket and Manager on the other.

Laughing to herself at the pathetic juxtaposition between her own majestic beauty and the side-show presented by the half-witted cow of a grocery jockey standing before her, Mrs. Parnell haughtily implored, "excuse me . . . you there . . . Mrs. . . .," staring at the manager's name tag, "Sweeney is it . . . well, it doesn't matter what your name is anyway. Whichever one of your hapless, slothful stock boys was tasked with taking care of errant shopping carts in the parking lot clearly fell down on the job. If I discover my car was dented because of his neglect I expect Whole Foods will be writing me a check for any repairs."

Will cringed.

Although clearly this imperious woman had no idea who Sally was, Mrs. Sally Sweeney recognized the domineering know-it-all standing before her in an instant. With her son Sam now in his final year of a full athletic scholarship to Gonzaga High School, Mrs. Sweeney had been witness to the antics of Danielle Marie Parnell at a host of school events.

Whether she was preening in front of the snack shack at Sam's high school football games with her sky-high wedge heels, skin-tight white jeans and form fitting purple turtle neck, hosting the annual Fall Ball in some high fashion gown that profiled the tits, legs and ass she used to mercilessly tease boys and men alike or taking other mothers to task in one of her severe business suits for being tardy to a Mothers' Guild meeting, Mrs. Danielle Parnell was an officious, arrogant show-off. Sadly, Sally new that if she had any hope of becoming a Whole Foods regional manager she needed to deal with the likes of Mrs. Parnell with a smile on her face -- if not a song in her heart.

"I'm terribly sorry about that ma'am," Sally said with all the sincerity she could muster. "I'll make sure to have a word with the staff and remind them how important it is to keep on top of the carts out there. And do let us know if there is any damage to your car."

Put off by the civility of Sally Sweeny's kind reply, Danielle decided to make it clear to this woman who was boss. "Perhaps in addition to simply having a word with those miscreants you could lead by example and move some of those carts yourself," Danielle intoned before, as always, loudly firing one parting shot, "God knows you can certainly use the exercise."

It was all Sally could do not to slap the little tart standing before her. But, through a tightly forced smile, the defeated Mrs. Sweeney simply said, "thank you for the suggestion."

The small crowd of women that had gathered to witness Danielle's verbal onslaught of the poor store-keep, including Rachel Miras, was as much outraged by the little narcissist's vile treatment of Sally as it was impressed by Mrs. Sweeney's ability to maintain her composure. All the male witnesses on the other hand were mesmerized by the uber-MILF's domination of the frumpy store manager which made them long all the more for the sexy suburbanite; all the male witnesses that is but one.

Sam Sweeney was running late for work due to his dressing down by Mrs. Parnell at school and had thus missed the lion's share of the confrontation involving his mom but -- fastening his regulation Whole Foods apron around his waist as he came through the store's sliding doors -- he witnessed to his shock and dismay the tail end of his mother's humiliation at the hands of the same woman who only thirty minutes before had left him tongue tied and embarrassed in front of his teammates and girlfriend -- well ex-girlfriend -- on the Gonzaga High School steps. Someone needed to turn the tables on Will's mom he thought to himself -- but who, and how. It was at that moment that he heard a familiar voice call out from behind him.

"Hey Sam," came the call of Billy Miras, Gonzaga's most notorious prankster and mischief maker, "you gotta' minute."

* * *

Billy Miras was nothing if not a planner which was in large part why his pranks were always so successful. Whether it was something as simple as putting chalk sticks in the grooves of a blackboard eraser or as complex as capturing a rival high school's mascot, the young trickster prided himself on his mastery of the art of the prank. This time, however, even before he approached Sam Sweeney about seeking some form of revenge on the always arrogant Mrs. Parnell, he knew he'd need to improvise.

"Make it fast Miras," was Sam Sweeney's first reaction to Billy's entreaty, "if I don't get to work soon to burn up some energy I'm going to slug Will's mom right in her turned up nose."

"And end up kicked off the team, expelled from school and maybe even spending some time in jail," responded Billy who had not yet learned from Sam about the football hero's own comeuppance at the hands of Mrs. Parnell, "I think I may have a better way to help you exact some revenge on that stuck-up fancy pants with far less risk to your future."

"I'm listening," said Sam.

Billy went on to explain that in his experience a sure-fired way to take down someone like Will Parnell's mom was to somehow shake her confidence, get her out of her comfort zone, make her feel silly for once. Although he and Sam -- now his new, eager, co-conspirator -- would need to play this one by ear, Billy was sure they could create some mischief that would take the preening narcissist down a peg. Maybe, Billy suggested, they could go so far as to make her lose her icy cold affect and, instead of disdainfully tossing out snide comments from "on high," have Mrs. Cool end up frantic and harried -- shouting somebody down in public. At the very least, he offered, they could try to arrange for her to slip on a banana peel. Not in their wildest dreams -- even the wet ones -- could they have imagined what was actually soon to transpire.

* * *

Spinning on the very high heel of one of her patent leather Louboutin shoes and flush with the thrill of humiliating that pathetic cow Sweeney, Mrs. Parnell dispatched Will with the cart to fetch the bulk of the items on the list she had received from Alia. Danielle meanwhile headed for the meat and poultry counter at the back of the store, took a number and waited -- impatiently -- for the butcher to call her turn. During that wait, and after freshening up her ruby red lipstick, the comely counselor slipped a dainty foot from one of her towering shoes to scratch an itch on the back of her other leg's calf. Unbeknownst to her at the time, that simple, elegant act of nonchalance was about to trigger a chain of events that no one present would ever soon forget.

"I have an idea," Billy whispered to Sam as they spied on the fetching alpha-lawyer from behind a tall display of soup cans.

"What is it," asked Sam eagerly.

"You just get down to the end of the frozen food aisle there to make sure no one is coming," ordered the prankster-in-chief, "and hurry!"

As Sam ran off, Billy Miras stared transfixed by the vision of Will's mother in front of him. As he watched her tights encased right foot rub up and down on the chiseled calf of her sexy left leg all that was missing was the sound effect -- that delicious faint scratching that nylon makes when rubbed against itself. But this was no time for fantasy. Snapping out of his reverie Billy Miras knew he had to act now or lose his chance. Moving as stealthily as possible from behind the soup display he came up alongside the magnificent Mrs. Parnell just as her free foot was searching for its now empty Louboutin shoe. And then he did it -- as naturally as possible while walking past her on the right, Billy "accidentally" kicked Danielle's empty $450 shoe straight down the center of the frozen food aisle.

"Mrs. Parnell," Billy stammered employing as best he could the four years he spent in the school's drama club, "I'm so sorry -- I didn't mean . . ."

But before he could get his next word out he was cut off by the angry beauty who was both livid that this little Cretan had kicked her expensive shoe three quarters of the way down the aisle and somewhat embarrassed that with only one shoe she looked a bit out of sorts.

"You . . . little . . . idiot," she seethed, emphasizing her choice of words and not realizing that Rachel Miras was within earshot, "that shoe is worth more than your mother makes in a week."