I highly recommend being stuck inside a Wal Mart for three hours with no way to leave. It’s high entertainment indeed. Especially when you spend that three hours sitting in that little hovel of a cafeteria section that’s painted all hot pink and shit. But I wasn’t there by my choice. No, that would be the end of anyone’s life as they know it if they ever decided to sit three hours inside the wal mart cafeteria by their own accord. I’d punch them. I’d punch myself.

So I roll up in the destruction derby/parking lot of death at Wal Mart, get out of my car, and note a large stream of fluid trailing across the parking lot. I’m all like “Man someone’s car is fucked.” Then I laughed at my obvious superiority. My laugh continued as my eyes followed the trail as it eventually ended up right underneath MY fucking car. I dart to my hands and knees only to see my car has suddenly decided that this was the perfect time to just take a giant shit consisting of nothing but antifreeze. Wonderful, as I have zero knowledge of how to repair major car leakage. I can barely find the gascap most of the time. I reach to grab my phone to call someone, anyone…

Oh dear It seems I have forgotten my phone.

My only choice suddenly becomes clear; I have to wait until someone gets off work to come pick me up, as I don’t know anyone else’s phone number. This means that I’m going to have to sit in Wal Mart for a good three hours. THREE HOURS.

In it’s purest form, sitting at Wal Mart with no place to go, completely trapped, and unable to contact anyone you know is about on par with being in prison. A really crowded prison. Filled with screaming children and a creepy old greeter guy at the door that keeps looking at me. I can’t speak much of creepy, as I basically became the creepy guy that just kinda sits on a bench and stares at you because I have nothing better to do than to briefly latch onto someone else’s goings on. I see why they do it now. It keeps them from having to realize where they are and their miserable situation in life, no matter how short a time.

I sat and watched the mothers that had a babies before they were 18, the ones that had totally ruined any sort of dreams or aspirations for the rest of their life for one night of fuck with some guy that probably left them by morning anyway. You can always tell who they are. Their eyes, that horrible look of knowing this damn kid has ruined her life forever. I watched the old people scoot along doing their whole old people thing that they seem so good at doing. I watched a fat man eat four hot dogs that I don’t believe he ever chewed once. I watched some kid cry and scream like he was being eaten by a rabid dog because his mother wouldn’t buy him some stupid shit. I listened to those damned Wal Mart advertisements for what seemed 5,000 times. The sad thing of all this being that if this had been any other day, I would have went out of my way to avoid even paying any attention to them. But today, today this was high entertainment.

About two hours into it, the door greeter that replaced the old creepy guy about an hour ago comes up and asks if I need any help or anything, I’m sure becoming uncomfortable that I have been watching his every movement for the last twenty minutes. I reply with a “No I’m waiting on someone” that I don’t think he really believed. In his mind, he’s seen my type before. In his mind, I’m going to follow him home later that night, tie him to a chair, and feed him his pets alive. He took his break a few minutes later. I’m fairly sure that wasn’t a coincidence.

I decide that I’m hungry eventually. With nowhere else to go, I’m stuck with Wal Mart’s fine delicacies consisting of “Hot Dog” and “Bigger Hot Dog”. I choose hot dog. The poor fool behind the counter taking my order was nice enough to not acknowledge my presence there for a good five minutes, and then proceeded to act as if I had just asked her to build a giant monolithic statue in my name. I mean, for fuck sake people, I know you have a shit job. It’s okay. Really. I don’t expect you to lick gold off my ass. I just want my hot dog, the least you could do is not act like I just killed your children with a rake.

Eventually my ride came and my car was hauled into a Car X, and I was able to make my way back home. It all seemed odd after it was over. No man is supposed to spend that amount of time in Wal Mart. By choice or force. What I did must have been some sort of test of the human spirit. SOme sort of important study of science. Yes, that’s exactly what it was. I did what I did for science.

It’s the only way I can justify it all without punching myself.