The People of Wal*Mart

Last night I needed something at Wal*Mart. Yes, I know it’s an evil conglomerate that destroys local economies and exploits the lower class. However, I needed a fan since my bedroom is only slightly cooler than boiling pitch and here in the boondocks there isn’t a surplus of retail options.

As I was ambling across the parking lot, I noticed a veritable mountain of a man scrutinizing me. There was no subtlety, no panache as he deliberately turned and watched me walk by with focused attentiveness. At first I thought my skirt was caught up or something equally embarrassing, until I realized with surprise that he was totally checking me out. (I’m really kind of oblivious when it comes to these kinds of things.)

While it may be hard to imagine an abashed giant, when he realized I caught him staring, he embarrassedly ducked his head, turned, and – WHAM – walked straight into a parked car. I swear that poor sedan cried uncle, he hit it so hard.

It gets so much better.

Some eighty year old, grey-haired grannie was coming out the doors and witnessed the whole spectacle. She shuffled over to me exclaimed “work it girlfriend” and gave me a high five. I nearly asphyxiated in hysterical laughter.

I swear I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.


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