Walmart Women

So, the other day I went to Walmart.

I'm not proud of it.

Walmart shoppers are an entirely different subspecies of human beings. I don't want to be one of them.

You'll see lot's of sloping foreheads and chinless jaws, and they have fewer teeth than most homo sapiens.

They walk slower and do not possess the intelligence to get out of the way. They just stand there dazed and drooling, blocking the aisle, squatting behind their shopping carts. Perhaps they're thinking about bones and antlers.

I go there to buy socks and underwear. 
Socks and underwear are cheap at Walmart because most Wal-Mart shoppers still wear loin-cloths.

On this particular day I broke through a geriatric roadblock, entered through the doors which are on the wrong side and waved off the slack-jawed decrepit "Greeter."

They always prop up a dead guy at the front of the store. 
Why? I don't know.

Who wants to be greeted by a dead guy? Not me.

Who's idea was this? Getting some 100 year old man to stagger toward you with a shopping cart...is this good for business?

I made it to the center aisle.
Towels were on sale for $3 each!

Squatting directly in front of this display were two Wal-Women.

One of them was tall and skinny with bleach-blond weeds coming out of her head. She wore a skirt so short you could see what she had for breakfast.

She was yelling into her cell-phone while eating Nacho Cheese Doritos from an opened bag.

Her stubby scantily clad friend stood next her, squinting and text messaging while blocking the other side of the aisle like Teddy Bruschi.

She was a chubby girl who didn't mind exposing her large beach-ball breasts.

Now don't get me wrong. I usually love big boobs, but these were not the kind of boobs you wanna see.
They looked like they might pop. You might get splattered with something.

Some boobs...you just wanna say, "Put those things away, you're makin' me sick!"

I was trying to get to the $3 towels to check out the quality, but these two stunning beauties were blocking the way texting and squawking and chomping Nacho Cheese Doritos out of a giant unpaid-for bag.

Blondie finishes her phone call with a flourish of loud swears, and puts her phone away.

Suddenly she looks at her hands and says, "Jesus Christ! Look at my hands! They're all ORANGE from these freakin' Doritos!"

She walks over to the $3 white towels and wipes her hands on them!

I couldn't believe it.

Then, with a gap-toothed grimace she turns to me and says, "Don't tell anybody."

I promised her that I wouldn't, and ran away. 

I think I peed a little, and I had bad dreams that night.