Some of you may know it as "The Seventh Level of Hell", others of you may refer to it in the plural as "wal-marts." Eitherway, it is undoubtedly the worst place on Earth, and has more idiots per square foot than even Hastings, M1 Mall, or a Blink 182 concert. I kid you not, spending two weeks in Wal-mart could be ruled cruel and unusual punishment by the Supreme Court. (Not that any of them would be caught dead in Wally-world.) There's just nothing worse than trying to slip through an already too narrow isle to get just one can of what-have-you that is the sole ingredient you lack to make whatever culinary delight you plan on having that evening, and upon arriving at the isle noticing that it has become the sight of the First United Church of the Vine Episcopal Baptist Southside Holy Trinity Bethany C.M.E. women's group meeting. They always seem to get rather upset when you need to slip through too. They should change their motto from "Low Prices" to "Low Expectations." For a bunch of holy-rollers, they don't like little ol' me waltzing through to get a can of green beans.
Something else I've noticed about the place of evil that spawned right here in our home state of denial, err, I mean Arkansas. The shortest line is always the line with the slowest checker. Or the checker has a friend in line and finds it necessary to catch up on everything that has happened in the past nine years. All I need is to pay 79 cents for a can of green beans, and yet I can't get in and out of this place in less than fifteen minutes. I miss my corner grocery store, the only problem with the little guys is that they close at reasonable hours. I guess if you need a can of green beans at 10:00 at night you just have to take what's coming to you. Next time I go into that place I want some morphine, maybe then it will at least be tolerable.
We fixed the glitch,
Jeff C.
