There are arduous, agonizing, unspeakable deaths... and then there's Walmart.
Unfortunately for me, I have to experience the latter week or so, purely for groceries and its close proximity to where I live, and it is fucking torture. It's already a fairly renowned fact that I'm going to hate most people, let alone the common street filth that inhabits Walmart (referred to as "The Wall" for the rest of this rant). I figure that there are scummy people at every grocery store, but not quite on the exponentially disturbing scale like the filth at The Wall. These fucks make the Westboro Baptist Church members seem like normal people. I went yesterday, and while it wasn't the most unpleasant Wall trip I took, it triggered some PTSD memories from the worst grocery shopping experience of my life, which I felt would be appropriate to share and hopefully deter further patronage from that hell hole.
One prejudice filled evening, I was shopping for some bell peppers to add to a delicious ground beef medley. I stood looking at the horrifying options I had in front of me, trying to decide which gangrene infested veggies I would try to shove down my throat, when I turned to bring my shopping cart in closer to the food so this passing family could walk past with ease, when this putrid little juvenile (about 5 or 6 years old, I dunno, I'm terrible at guessing ages) verbally accosts me with a vicious little, "Move yo shit, whitey" (I'll let you assume any racial differences that may be present here). I swear to fucking god, that actually happened. I looked around for this little shits parent/guardian and spotted her, fucking around on her iPhone while dragging her cart behind her. I assume whatever she was doing on her phone was important, because she was ignoring the fact that she was raising one of the next members of the Death Angels. She looks up from her Angry Birds and sees my shocked, open-jawed expression and shoots me a look like, "Do somethin', I dare you." Obviously I did nothing. What was I gonna do? Kick the little snot in the face? I have wet dreams about doing it though, soaking wet dreams.
This one other time I was cruising through the frozen meats and such, I spotted a normal looking person at the Wall. This, in and of itself, is fucking amazing. This is essentially the spotting of a unicorn; it's pretty hard for me to not find anything wrong with a person, especially at the Wall, but this guy seemed incredibly normal. Not morbidly obese, not wearing trashy clothing nor fancy clothing, just a dude who looked like he was a semi-productive member of society. I almost had to shake his hand and ask him how he did it, how could he exist in this Wallrealm...
...But then, in slow motion, I watched as this putz trip forward and bust his schnoz on the handle of his shopping cart. He then proceeded to cushion his fall by landing directly on his face. I didn't think the trailer trash tramp that was next to him was associated with him, but she was in fact his significant other, and she must have thought he died on the spot, because she screamed and scared the shit out of everyone else in the store. I couldn't believe this shit. His tramp was screaming because of the ungodly amount of blood squirting from his fucking nose. Now I'm no hero, so I just kinda stood there with my hands in front of me, giving a shit but not enough to help this stunod.
 |
| "Holy shit. I, ah.... fuck this." |
Yeah, those last two sucked dick, but this one really made me question as to whether or not my life was real or not. After a grueling session of shopping with the scum of Kent County, I'm finally in the speedy checkout like with less than 20 items in my cart, and for once nobody ahead of me is abusing this 20 item limit, jubilee. I've put myself through another dreadful evening of smelly, loud, obnoxious people and I'm ready to get the fuck outta dodge. The bags are in the cart, I'm waiting for my total, card in my hand, fully erect and as the cashier (who no doubt only works at Walmart because she hates herself) turns her head to mumble my total, she fucking burps in my face.
She burped.
In my face.
And then told me my total.
I just stared with my mouth open, so her soulless breath probably made its way onto my palate. Like, did you really have to spread your general distaste for life with me, when I was just on my way out? So many thoughts ran through my head; is this reality, who shot Kennedy, what am I jerking off to tonight... but I couldn't make sense of anything. This was life for me; receiving a hearty belch for no pay at all. I guess I'm fortunate, because some people have to find a sad hooker for that kind of thing. Wait, no, that was really fucking gross.
Fuck Walmart. I suppose shit could be worse.
Sick of cold weather,
JoeyG
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