WalMart is the bane of our civilization. It is the reason people go off the deep end and 86 their vehicles in the lake. It’s why people yell and cut you off in traffic, why couples divorce, why babies get colic. It is, by far, the most evil institution ever to hit the planet. I suspect it’s an alien virus which is slowly taking over our lives until we are nothing more than obedient zombies. Then the aliens will come down here and dress us all in WalMart clothes (gross!) and harvest our organs. I hate the place that bad.
I went to WalMart today against my better judgment. My darling husband needed long underwear and since I live to please the man, I decided I’d go. The day had gone pretty darn good up to that point too. I’d successfully installed satellite radio in his truck (I’m the techie of the family), gotten a butt load of laundry done, had a terrific visit with Son#1 and was organizing my new desk. All in all, a great start to the week.
On the way to WalMart, the truck got wind of our destination: Hell. As a defensive mechanism, it cut out the satellite radio. I persevered mainly because it had been a long time since I’d gone to a WalMart and secondly because I’m dumb that way. Shoulda listened to the damn vehicle.
With my day still going moderately well, I stopped and filled the truck up with gas and continued on my way to the abomination called a ‘super’ store. Even filling up at today’s gas prices didn’t phase me. It was still all good.
The inside of a WalMart is designed to stupefy a consumer into buying shit that they do not need. It is so freaking confusing in there that you pass fifty things that you never dreamt you wanted just to get to the one thing on your list. They’re evil that way and I hate them for it.
Fortunately, I have superior reasoning skills and was able to overcome the subliminal alien signals to spend, spend, spend and managed to get to the check out with only a minimal amount of shit I don’t need. I felt victory was close at hand. I’d soon be checked out and back in my warm vehicle listening to some cool satellite radio.
Or I’d bend over and let WalMart take me up the ass.
I check out, snatching a Mt. Dew from the insidiously placed cooler. I’d given up soda but the goddamn WalMart had lured me into drinking one. I’m telling you, if the Anti-Christ was a thing, that thing would be WalMart. It’s pure evil.
But I’m relatively unscathed, only spending $36 and I headed for the door. I grabbed my bags, tossed them into the truck and headed for home. The truck must have picked up on the fact that we were quickly getting out of the clutches of the demonic WalMart because #1 I couldn’t keep the stupid thing under 70 and #2 the satellite radio worked flawlessly. I began to breathe a little easier and even the jackass who cut in front of me on the highway only to slosh road crap all over my windshield couldn’t bring me down.
And then I went home.
I showed my treasures to my dear husband, hoping that when he snugged his little rear-end into the warm thermal’s, he’d think of me. And shirts! I bought him shirts! I rifled through the bag to look for them.
The freaking shirts will still on that stupid turnstile back at the WalMart! They did it to me again! Those evil, greedy bastards once again punished me for not overspending at their store by conveniently sliding my last bag around the turnstile so I wouldn’t look for it. No wonder those assholes make a profit!
Once I discovered that WalMart had once again raped me, nothing went right. I dropped broccoli slaw down my shirt. Do you know what it feels like to have cold, wet broccoli down your shirt? It’s disgusting. Then I tried to find the phone book and couldn’t. Then the cat scratched me. Then the dog got gas. Hell, I think the WalMart gave me irritable bowel!
WalMart will bring down civilization, I swear to God! And when the blue smocked, thermal shirt stealing bastards land the mother ship for the final showdown, you can find me at Target, where the kinder, gentler alien overlords rule!
Go F*&K yourself WalMart. I hate you!