I went to WalMart. I KNOW I said I wasn't going back but that's how they get you...sixty miles thisaway, 30 miles thataway, you've got 20 minutes and you need screen door hooks and cilantro. The spirit is willing but the something is weak.
Honey, let me tell you, ain't nobody been teaching manners in WM since last time I was there. That "traffic to the right" thing that just pisses me off? No one's listening! In fact, fat-ass broad is coming up on her right, well-coiffed bitch is coming up on her left...I have nowhere to go as I scoot along toward them. And as I stood there, TO THE RIGHT, well-coiffed bitch pushed her cart nose-to-nose to mine and sweetly inquired, "Am I in your way?" WhoreBitchSlut. And I SAID, "It's that 'traffic to the right' thing. Gets me every time." And she didn't have a clue. And my mama always insisted you be nice to strangers so, I put a little something in her cart when she wasn't looking. Explain that pack of Trojans, bitch.
THEN. Oh, may we discuss TANNING MACHINES? In this county, there is a tanline. It is the creek that divides the "outer" regions of the county from the "inhabited" regions of the county. If you are walkin' around in WalMart, in early April, and you are the color of old potato skins...no one thinks you've been in the Bahamas. We know, you live on the east side of the creek. I don't care if you DO have hair the color of Anna Nicole's...you ain't foolin' nobody. And your mama didn't teach you nothin' about bein' common...you might as well be cuttin' your toenails on the front porch. And for PETE'S sake, if I can hear you smackin' that gum all the way over at the next register then you should have stopped at three pieces. Everybody knows that.
I finally got out. Whining the entire time. I keep germ stuff in the door of my car and when I got out there I did my hands, my face and all exposed body parts. Twice. I know I got rid of the germs; I'm just worried about catching the dumbass.