I was at the Wal-Mart the other day to get some stink bait and saw something that we have all seen in Wal-Mart.
There was a woman yellin’ at her kids. No surprise there. Heck, I am surprised if I go into Wally World and there ain’t some kid getting yelled at.
Wal-Mart is where you are supposed to yell at your kids. It’s like a law or something. Momma used to load us up when we was kids to drive us to the Wal-Mart in Morrilton to yell at us and give us a whoopin’. Then since she was there, she might get her a soft pack of Marlboros.
But there is more than just parents whippin’ kids butts in Wal-Mart. There is a few types of people that you got a good chance of seein’ at a Wal-Mart no matter where you live.
Now, this is pretty much Wal-Mart only. It don’t apply to Kroger, Target or especially not a Dillards. But you might see some of these folks we are gonna discuss in a K-mart, Harp’s, Fred’s or Knight’s and for dang sure in a Dollar General Store. But, you will almost always see ’em at a Wal-Mart.
Here are some of the people you are likely to see at Wal-Mart:
Ancient Greeter Man – Nope. It ain’t the Crypt Keeper, but it may be a first cousin. His job is to welcome you to Wal-Mart and direct you to a buggy. That buggy has a 80% chance of having a wobbly front wheel.
When ever you go into the store and see this feller, you think this might be the last time you see him breathing. But, you have been saying that for almost 8-years and he is still there.
Planet Woman and Satellite Man – This here is a real common in Wal-Mart. She clocks in at least 350 to 400 pounds. She is wearing either worn cotton shorts that show off a couple of tree trunks for legs or a pair of warm up britches that look like its got a couple of pigs wrasslin’ in the butt-end and a xxxxl Tim McGraw: Indian Outlaw t-shirt from the ’90’s.
Her man is about 119 pounds, wears a faded Molly Hatchet 1981 tour t-shirt and a greasy ballcap that says something snappy like: “Yank My Doodle, It’s A Dandy”.
Satellite Man orbits Planet Woman and is there to do whatever she tells him to do. If he don’t do what she says, he might get hurt.
These two usually have a bunch of loud, dirty kids with no shoes. And she is usually yelling at all of them for bothering her, but ignores them when they are flying around and kicking people in the knees and cussing out the greeter.
Roadblock Annie – You know that woman who don’t get on one side of the aisle or another? The one that has to get right in the middle and stops? That is Roadblock Annie.
She is immune to your stares or to clearing your throat. She will just keep right on ignoring you.
She is over 65-years old and thinks she don’t have to move for anyone.
I find that I can usually get Roadblock Annie to move by saying someting out loud like, “Man, I bet that one is gonna stink!” or “Excuse me ma’am, do you wanna pet my snake?”
The Jr. League Talkers – Younger first cousins to Roadblock Annie, except they only block your way when they run into each other.
If you are behind one and hear “Oh Staci! I haven’t seen you in ages! blah-blah-blah-blah….” , you might as well either turn around and go the other way, OR if you wanna have some fun, just walk up and join in on the conversation. They will look at one another with their eyebrows raised, but most likely being Junior Leagers, they won’t be rude enough to ask how you know them, they will just assume you know the other one.
Stinky Pete – The guy that just looks like he stinks, and boy does he. Big bushy beard, dirty pants and shirt with sweat stains. Dirt everywhere on his exposed skin.
The smell that can only come from the mixture of cheap cigarette smoke, not bathing, not changing clothes for a few weeks. The flies chipped in a bought Stinky Pete a screen door.
The odor coming off Stinky Pete in waves is best described as a ‘funk’.
Don’t get within 25-feet. The smell of Stinky Pete can knock a buzzard off a gut wagon.
And that is just a few of the folks you will see in Wal-Mart.
If you ladies are feeling lucky and want a shot at being my future ex-wife, you can e-mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org