White Shogun
Hall of Famer
- Joined
- Mar 2, 2005
- Messages
- 6,285
I remembered tonight why I try to avoid Walmart like the plague. It's like experiencing the demise of the United States as a first world civilization in living, breathing, color.
The parking lot is covered in trash: cans, cups, lids, empty boxes, but the dirty diapers full of sh*t are the worst. The air stinks of it. The aisles inside are worse, in a way: they're narrower and almost just as dirty. They're packed with fat brown women screaming at kids running amok in the store. She has six of them, they look like they popped out one after the other in sequential order: 6, 5, 4, 3, 2 and the one in the car seat in the cart full of food she will inevitable pay for with a Lonestar card (that's welfare for all you non-Texans.)
As I exit the store (tienda?), I pause to say hi to the old white lady checking receipts. She smiles and says thank you.. as I go through the door a young Mexican kid clutching a plastic shopping bag to his belly walks nearby and we exit at the same time. The alarm sounds - I stop, the kid keeps on walking, picking up his pace. I stop of course, despite the fact she just checked my purchases against my receipt. I call out sternly to the kid, ordering him to wait. He does, but of course the old woman says that she isn't sure who's things set off the alarm. White guilt, I assume. Of course it can't be the young brown man who timed his exit to coincide with mine, clutching his bag tightly to his body, right? Nah.. it's the middle aged white guy with a cart full of nothing but groceries that you've already checked.
She checks my receipt (again), almost guiltily it seems, and I exit the store, glancing over my shoulder to see her sheepishly talking to the Mexican kid. I don't know what came of the incident.. I was too busy avoiding the dirty diapers and keeping a wary eye on the low-rider with the thumping bass, who's cruising the parking lot and giving me the evil eye.
Edited by: White Shogun
The parking lot is covered in trash: cans, cups, lids, empty boxes, but the dirty diapers full of sh*t are the worst. The air stinks of it. The aisles inside are worse, in a way: they're narrower and almost just as dirty. They're packed with fat brown women screaming at kids running amok in the store. She has six of them, they look like they popped out one after the other in sequential order: 6, 5, 4, 3, 2 and the one in the car seat in the cart full of food she will inevitable pay for with a Lonestar card (that's welfare for all you non-Texans.)
As I exit the store (tienda?), I pause to say hi to the old white lady checking receipts. She smiles and says thank you.. as I go through the door a young Mexican kid clutching a plastic shopping bag to his belly walks nearby and we exit at the same time. The alarm sounds - I stop, the kid keeps on walking, picking up his pace. I stop of course, despite the fact she just checked my purchases against my receipt. I call out sternly to the kid, ordering him to wait. He does, but of course the old woman says that she isn't sure who's things set off the alarm. White guilt, I assume. Of course it can't be the young brown man who timed his exit to coincide with mine, clutching his bag tightly to his body, right? Nah.. it's the middle aged white guy with a cart full of nothing but groceries that you've already checked.
She checks my receipt (again), almost guiltily it seems, and I exit the store, glancing over my shoulder to see her sheepishly talking to the Mexican kid. I don't know what came of the incident.. I was too busy avoiding the dirty diapers and keeping a wary eye on the low-rider with the thumping bass, who's cruising the parking lot and giving me the evil eye.
Edited by: White Shogun
