Around this time of year, I enjoy scouting out Christmas decorations and such. Unfortunately there aren’t many options around my area, and this usually leads to – you guessed it, dreaded Wal-Mart.
So I figure I would go early in the morning to avoid the typical trash. Now you are thinking, if this plan had worked out I wouldn’t be writing this rant. And correct you are.
I went to the Christmas area, which was empty at the time. To get there I only dodged one or two fatties so this wasn’t that bad at this point. So there are aisles and aisles of decorations and ornaments and that kind of thing, and I am quite pumped. This feeling can only last so long, however, because this is Wal-Mart and Wal-Mart is not known for happiness. Except for the owners who are rich thanks to simpletons, but that’s beside the point.
Anyway, I was near the end of one aisle at this point. Then Fatty #1 comes along with her cart. You know the situation – fatty about half a ton, wearing blown out ankle no name Uggs, sweat pants, and frumpy shirt, fried bleached blonde hair in 1988 style ponytail, leaning on her cart to support all the weight. She’s right in the middle of course, so going around either side is not an option. The only thing I can do is reverse my path and go back and around. Fatty disappears.
Something in this same aisle catches my eye so I stop to look at it. Along comes another fatty but this one is minding her own business. Thinking nothing of it, I am distracted by something else while this fatty disappears. As I walk back where she was standing, I smell an awful odor. It was like a cloud. Clearly, this fatty hadn’t bathed for a long, long time. Would it hurt to pop into the shower before shopping? Like wow.
After this disturbing ordeal, I head down another aisle to get to the electronics part, where I wanted to look for a DVD or something. On the way there I discover a nasty bum, wearing a coat from approximately 1993, and heavy mittens for the temperature, and another fatty wearing no name blown out ankle Uggs. And *cough* another cloud of nasty sweat smell.
At this point, I’ve had enough. It’s not even welfare day and it’s getting crowded. I will now remember to go extra early. But then there won’t be future rants. Scratch that. It’s Wal-Mart. There’s always a rant for Wal-Mart.
