I went to Walmart a few weeks ago, because they were having a sale on wife beaters. Not actually people who beat wives, even though I’m sure they work there, but white tank tops. They were like 99 cents for a pack of 100, but whatever. I don’t actually wear them, I use them to sling grapefruits at my neighbor’s cats. You’d be surprised how quickly you’ll go through a 100 of them, so I planned on buying five packs. Anyway, when I got to the store, there were a ton of people there for the sale –well actually, maybe 2 tons of people, I’m not really good at guessing weights. I was really surprised that for such a great deal targeted at the Walmart demographic, that only eight people showed up.
They were big, really big, so big in fact that every one of them was driving those little three-wheeled buggies. I don’t even know what you call them, but when I went over to the sale area to grab some shirts, it seemed like they were all backing up at the same time. It sounded like a tacky disco with all the beeping. I started to dance, because I can. Then I stuffed the five packs of t-shirts down my pants, and walked out of the store like some kind of common criminal. I might get a tattoo now.