I have just returned from the land of Walmart, that cursed,
foul hell-hole of a store that lures you in with low prices and then beats you
over the head with weaponized iPads and sensory over overload, and I am ready
to kiss the sidewalk outside my building. Oh my god, people.
First of all, everyone wanted the garland, so much so that I
found myself pinned between two warring factions of grandmas with their carts
full of crap ready to smash together and turn me into tinsel spaghetti. The
only way out was the yell “I THINK I’M DONE IN THIS AISLE. I GUESS I CAN WAIT
UNTIL SOMEONE MOVES.”
Oh the carnage. Fully lit college kids were twerking on
half-lit trees. Aren’t finals soon? Pass class or go home to Iowa. No one wants
you here. GO HOME. GO SET YOUR DAD’S MOOBS ON FIRE AND STUFF YOUR MOM IN THE OVEN.
THEY THINK YOU’RE CUTE. NOT ME.
So then I was getting a couple food items. Warning: DO NOT.
There was a crazy asshole vibrating her cart around behind me screaming
Christmas carols the whole time. I lost her a couple times, but then she and
her cart would jump out of the toilet paper and the cereal like the Polar
Express when I least expect it. She had these terrible little crinkly hands,
and I wanted to shove them both up her butt.
Just imagine picking up cheese cubes to the tune of JINGLE
BELLS BATMAN SMELLS ROBIN LAID AN EGG WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS NOW PEE
DOWN YOUR LEG like what was this woman singing? What were these demonic shitty
siren songs coming out of her blowhole?
Gross.
So I get to the self checkout and nearly get T-boned by an
old man with a shopping cart full of cakes. Fucking cakes! A cart full of them.
Back the fuck up, geezerland. I’ll punch you right in the thorax.
I paid for my shites. I waved bon voyage to Horrorland.
If you’re thinking of going to Walmart right now, please
just save yourself some trouble and have some kindergarteners knock you unconscious
with bats, because the experience is similar.
