Kyle clings tighter. "Fucking Black Friday," he whines. "I hate this shit, why is it always this bad?! I saw a guy on the news once who ate his own kid while waiting in line..."

As Hawks hovers closer to the grate, Kyle finally lets his grip loosen. Just a little. "Dude," he says. "I think we can fit in there, if your wings fold up enough. We need a way to get it open."

Below them someone howls and starts beating another person with a 80% Off sign. I's not terribly effective.