Wal-Mart…Where The Mentally Retarded Go To Fuck.

Had to go get an oil change today.  Never an enjoyable affair as, in an effort to save 10 bucks, I always go to the local Wal-Mart Supercenter.  While it is quite super (at least that’s what they tell me) it is also an asswhip of epic proportion.  If it’s not the constant run-ins with the socially inept and awkward, it’s a 700 pound man in a motorized cart who manages to be in your way regardless the aisle to find yourself shopping, or some loudmouth redneck child screeching about not getting the toy they “need”, or a group of cocky, bastard teenagers shopping for school supplies.  I NEVER have a good Wal-Mart experience.  EVER.

Today, while I waited for my oil change, I was made privy to the fact that Lawrence is still in the Pen for punching out his girlfriend.  I was told that “Mama ain’t watchin’ them kids no moe cuz she crazy.”  No, I wasn’t getting to know a new friend.  Nope.  I simply had no escape from the conversation the MASSIVE black woman was having on her cell phone as I tried (quite in vain) to tune her out and read a fantasy football magazine.  I was near death when the good Lord saw fit to send her elsewhere (Sporting Goods).  I could still hear her but at the very least, it was faint enough I was able to ignore it all.

So, there I sat.  Reading my magazine.  Not looking at anyone.  Not speaking to anyone.  READING MY MAGAZINE.  “Hey man, you got 50 cents?” READING MY MAGAZINE.  “Buddy, can I borrow 50 cents?”  I look up and realize a giant rat in windshorts(!) is talking to me.  “Borrow?”, I ask.  “When would you be repaying the 50 cents?”  He has no reply.  I go back to my magazine.

Still waiting on that oil change.  Still reading my magazine.  Still wearing blinders.  In walks a 400 year old pale white man in dark sunglasses, massive white beard, baseball hat, very ashy legs.  He sits across from me…and promptly TAKES HIS SHIRT OFF AND BEGINS TO CLEAN HIS SUNGLASSES!  what the fuck?  WHAT THE FUCK?!?!  20 seconds in, an old lady comes in and tells him to put his shirt back on and to ‘sit still’.  The rat-like man in the windshorts asks the old man for a dollar.  The man gives him the dollar.  The rat man buys a Coke.  Old man tells him to give him back the change.  Ratman does so, VERY RELUCTANTLY.

Mercifully, my car is done.  I pay and leave, doubletiming it out the door.  I curse Wal-Mart.  I curse the Heavens.  I curse myself and my need to save 10$. 

Damn me.    Damn me.