I’ve wondered around Wal-Mart for an immeasurable amount of time. I say ‘immeasurable’ because once your physical body passes through the portal under the black hole marked ‘Grocery,’ and the elder gatekeeper greets you, time, space-time, whatever you want to call it, ceases to obey the laws of physics. Minutes are made of syrup, and not that runny knock-off brand of syrup either. I’m talking Log Cabin minutes. Reference points disappear. The gatekeeper offers you a weighted receptacle. This is to slow you down. It also sends a subliminal message that you must now fill said receptacle. As your Will begins to leave your body, the automaton drags you forward. You believe you are in control. That you are the one manipulating the receptacle. You are not. The connection you made when you placed both hands on the bar has short circuited your Will. The connection from the wheels to the floor connects the receptacle to The Dark Sam. There is now a direct flow of Consumerism flowing from The Dark Sam into you.
Now there is the Labyrinth. You creep slowly up and down every single isle. You may feel as if you have only traversed the isles necessary to that little piece of paper you call a list. The one you left on your kitchen table. But you have not. You are skipping forward in jilted sequences of awareness. But you always follow The Dark Sam’s complete path. It is manifest. Behold.
And at some predestined locus of points, The Dark Sam will whisper the slightest hint of a suggestion in your pliant ear. You and your party should separate. Continue to separate parts of the Labyrinth. You may start to resist, small remnants of your Will that splintered on exodus. You do not wish to lose your mate to the Lost Path. But The Dark Sam whispers into your very Soul. That it’s not that big of a store. That your mate will be right where they said they would when you return. That you won’t both be circling the Labyrinth in the same direction, just out of sight of the other, for twenty Log Cabin minutes. And when your receptacle is full, you approach the debit card portal.
This portal is congested. The Dark Sam requires a sacrifice upon the altar with no quantity key. This is proof, by the way, of The Sam’s inherit darkness. The Sam is efficient. It would be efficient to have a quantity key on the self-directed altars. Yet there are none. You must pass all twenty packs of Kool-Aid before the debit altar. Individually. Separately. This is senseless. Chaos. Darkness. The Sam is Dark. Behold The Dark Sam.
I digress. Anyway, I’m headed to the self-checkout and I stop short. There is a decision dork blocking my path. There are four self-checkouts. Two in one lane and two in the other. There is a person checking out at each of them. Situated about ten feet back from them, and directly in the middle, is the decision dork.
He stands there. Indifferent to the other shoppers. Undecided. Being line greedy. Holding things up. I walk around the side and come in diagonally and get behind the lady at the front left. After about five seconds, decision dork has made up some excuse in this mind to walk past me and the lady, then turns and looks at me like he’s confused (which I’m sure he is) and says, “Are ya’ll together?”
I respond, not in a confrontational voice, but in a tone that says I’m not in the least bit confused, “No.”
“Oh,” he says. “Ok,” and walks back to his original location.
I realize at this point that I’m displaying a contradictory behavior akin to a five year old and the obstinate jurisprudence of all people over the age of 70. I don’t care. Pick a fucking line you inconsiderate jizzweed.
What this douchebag wanted to do was call me out on breaking in line. In itself very 5th grade if you think about it. But then he decided to not go the distance. Why? Maybe my tone. But I think it was more the fact that he started to form a verbal argument and then realized he couldn’t. How can you call someone on line-breaking when you’re not in line yourself? You can’t dipwad! You can’t be in all four lines at one time. Here’s the thing. If you’re one of these people, one of these indecisive, greedy little fucks who wants to not be in line and still get ahead of everyone else, you’d better be prepared for a 270 lb anal retentive geek with redneck, confrontational tendencies to ‘cut’ in front of you and go the distance.
All hail The Dark Sam.