There’s an evil in this world so bold that it often gets overlooked. It’s a part of our every day life, so while we argue over religion and politics, thinking those are the passages to damnation, we’re not noticing the real threat to the youth of America. Walmart.
Those sliding doors are a passage to hell. Ever notice when you first walk in, you’re overtaken by a rush of hot air? That little burst of air does something to all the children. Watch them closely next time you enter. They run their sticky sweaty fingers through their hair, and their eyes get wide with the crazies, and they scream, “I WANT THAT!” pointing to a riding lawn mower. But of course you’re not going to buy them a riding lawn mower (at least, I hope not!), so they scream, “I HATE YOU! I WANT A RING POP!” And they thrash their tiny bodies about, making the screeching cries of demons. No matter which way you hold them, they’re on the floor or upside down or both. They’re tearing at their clothes and kicking you in the shin and spitting, “RING POP! RIIIIIIING POP!” And you, a normally normal human being, gets swept up in the demonic cries, and you scream at some idiot 15-year-old stock-boy, “WHERE DO YOU KEEP THE RING POPS? THE RING POPS! WHERE ARE THEY?” And when he doesn’t answer fast enough, you smack your shaking hands around his confused cherub face and with the voice of Satan, growl, “The fucking candy aisle!”
That’s when you notice that while all this is going on, there stands that one ‘perfect’ mom and her 2 twin Children-of-the-Corn rejects, judging you with darts in her eyes.
You want to tell her to go screw herself.
You want to tell her that the kids don’t usually act like this.
And you know you’re not perfect.
And you know the only reason her kids are being so good is because they’re hopped up on ADD medication.
And you want to ask how you might purchase some.
But you don’t. You buy the damn ring pops and get the hell outta there!
This only ever happens at Walmart, by the way. Look around next time you’re at Target. The kids are all well-behaved and well dressed with perfect posture…and suddenly speaking in adorable British accents.
“Allo, Quincy, ol’ chap. Fancy seeing you here. Can’t talk now. Must keep up with me mum. Let’s plan a play date soon, eh mate?”
And when Target is all out of Ring Pops? No big deal. “It’s alright, Mum. I’ll have a lolly instead.”
Target is so great, in fact, that I’ve decided to move all our holiday dinners there. We just hide next to the Keeping Up with the Kardashians Season 1 display (because whose really gonna check there?) until the place closes. Grab a deep fryer from aisle 13, and deep fry some turkey. Set up a table from aisle 5 with a new tablecloth and dishware from aisle 7, while our new British children read educational books from aisle 19 and make lists for Father Christmas on decorative paper they got from aisle 2.
Target is Mecca. It’s the holy place where all is calm and peaceful and beautiful in the World. but until we get one a little closer, I will have to brave the fiery pits of Walmart for my quick toilet paper runs. In a perfect world, there would be no war, no poverty, and a Target in every city.