Yeah, so stupid things you see; and almost become an unwitting party to, through no direct fault.
Well, I’m a moron, I know better than to go into Wally World. If I ever do it again, I’ll make sure to place the dunce cap on, attached with a full tube of Super Glue. Sometimes though, life is ugly, and I was in a hurry, so I went there for some Lucas Oil, (a great material for cleaning out fuel injectors/fuel/valve/ring conditioner; 10 bucks treats 100 gallons of gasoline).
Really, I was in full “tentative mode”, errrr, curmudgeon mode. I knew where to get the material, went straight for the automotive aisle, making every durable effort to avoid contact, both physically and visually, with the herd of mindless fucking consumer drones and whinging masses of emo plebes ~ to no avail. I neglected to take into account that it is tax refund season, so the gooey, unwashed masses would be running amuck with their government dollars, greasily clutched, in gnarled, nicotine stained hand.
As I am making a direct line for the correct aisle, a grotesquely large, shimmering, never been contacted by water, quivering amorphous blob of some manner of flesh-like material is girded/immovably wedged between the consumer stock piles of unnecessary, tantilizing “goodies” in the center aisle.
I commit a most egregious error; I fail to modify my path. Dumbass. As I am approaching the horrid, gelatinous atrocity, I’m visually assaulted to an even greater degree. Underneath its twenty dollar, stained and torn pleather jacket, it is wearing some manner of circus outfit; stripes, colors of a multitude of hues and shades. I notice movement from the left and turn my head to see a man, roughly my age, possibly just a bit older, gray hair, including a grayed handle-bar mustache, wearing the famous colors of Wally World’s professional elite, consumately and authoritatively strapped with a “badge” and walkie talkie; a real Midwestern “Man’s man”.
He’s targeted the morosely obese and cholesterol soaked mass. I just then notice a colorful and shiney bag, hermetically sealed to its left paw; the right paw is withdrawing another sodium loaded, saturated fat painted glob of near carbohydrate material from the bag, and moving it to its sagging, fat puffed jowls.
“Ma’am, you haven’t paid for those chips, and you’ve been walking around the store for half an hour now.”
I believe it was something akin to profanity that came from the sucking black food hole in its head, but with the spew of saliva and food particles gushing forth, it was difficult to ascertain exactly what the bovine vocal emanations were intended to be.
Suddenly a wash of anxiety comes over me. So busy was I in my targeted quest, my line of movement set me right within the gravitational field of the unseemly creature.
I realise too late; the horrendous mass shifts suddenly, covetously attempting to guard the starchy material in the smooth plastic food bag container from the Capt. Wally Badges reach. The security guard actually tempts fate, and is trying to come between the feeding mass and its near food stuffs. I hear tile and concrete groan in agony as the beast lurches; my attention should have been more precise. I get clubbed in the side of the head by the bloated behemoth’s mammoth forearm; woefully, it has lost its “balance”.
You ever have one of those moments where you are so acutely aware of what is transpiring, everything seems to slow down to where even the most minor movement can be seen? In a bare instant my olfactory senses were multiply assaulted by the stench of compounded perspiration, unbrushed teeth and the lingering drift of long dried fecal matter.
That’s what was happening. I could see the Wal-Mart security crusader reaching out for it, as if he had the leverage to offset both the mass and the gravity in play upon that mass. I am actually closer than he, and strangely, my mind wonders briefly, if I should intervene on its behalf ~ or on the behalf of gravity?
No matter, too late. Another lurch, as its unstable form begins to do a confined version of a cosmic tide, fat cells swimming in serum cholesterol begin to move on their own. In a rather stunning display of agility and grace, I am able to shift weight to the outside of the mass, slide step past it, and attain relative safety from the crushing death of Mt. TwinkieHoHoSuzyQApplePieFrostedCupcake.
It crashes down. My feet are actually raised off the floor, old women weep, children scream in fear, and somewhere a lone canine howls in distress. Chaos, trajedy, travesty; a finite glimpse of an apocalypse of the flesh.
Capt. Wally-Badge asks for assistance in attempting to pool the spreading flesh monster into a vertical mass again. I smile and walk on by. The rest of my unpleasant stay in Sam’s store is rather uneventful. But, I did notice an ambulance pulling up as I was exiting the building.
It apparently claimed that it had a neck, and that unknowable anatomical structure suffered distress during the cataclysm that was its fall.
It was a good day to be an American, and watch how the stupid unfolds, unfolds, unfolds, unfolds … oh screw it, there just aren’t enough characters in this post to express it adequately.
I sincerely hate Wal-Mart.
at which my date couldn’t stop laughing about/made total fun of me for it and the waiter looked at me in this belief, but I meant as opposed to bought-in chips that isn’t always 100% potato 
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