Making Groceries #66
Jan. 14th, 2006 09:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
loosechanjTwo middle-aged not obviously handicapped asshats were having a dogfight at the publix tonight. They were riding those gimpcarts, swerving and ramming each other, smacking each other upside the head. Then one whipped out an axe and nearly wacked off the other guys head. All it really needed was a good hard tug, and it woulda come off with his left arm too. He managed to whip out an AK-47 in time to squeeze off a couple sprays before the bloodspout coming out of his neck pushed him off his cart. All this over a package of cheezits. Two dead, and one pepsi display ruined. Will the carnage never end?
Then the store gimp dropped a 12 pack of miller bottles right in front of me. I slapped him so hard his kids are gonna be born dizzy, then grabbed him by the neck and screamed "YOU WASTED BEER YOU STUPID F**K!!!" while I disemboweled him with a rusty can opener that was conviently hanging nearby. To add insult to injury, the little rat bastard went and got a paper bag to clean it up with. Bright boy, that one. Of course, I'm being sarcastic. That was just too stupid to let him live, so I ran back to the scene of the dogfight to get the axe and I hacked off everything sticking out of this dumbass's torso. I just can't stand to see people doing their jobs badly.
The trip to walmart was pretty uneventful, up until I got into line behind this chatty cathy, and an enabler cashier. I didn't really mind though, I wasn't in any hurry. I checked my watch. Why I do that when I don't care what time it is, I dunno. When I got done putting my stuff on the register, I started listening in on the conversation. I guess the blabbermouth had said something about the cashiers at that walmart being slow or something, because Lothar (and I swear I am not making that name up) was going on about how shitty and old the equipment was, how that was why the cashiers were slow, and that the management had been claiming they were going to get it repaired/replaced for like 3 years now but they never had because they were cheap fuckers and never wanted to spend a goddamn dime and how the fuck were they supposed to do their jobs when...
Three men in black suits walked up behind him, grabbed his arms, and held him underneath one of those black hemispheres that hang out of the ceiling. A purple light descended from the sphere, and a look of utter terror appeared on the cashier's face for about half a second. It was only there for half a second because that's how long it took for the cashier's face to melt away into a disgusting mess of blood, snot, and whatever the fuck that blue shit was. As suddenly as they appeared, the three men were gone, taking the sad lump of bones with them, and a cashier named Fred finished ringing up our orders. He was nice.
Driving home I had no less than three asshats come to a complete and utter stop right in front of me while making right turns. I was too damn tired to do much of anything about it at the time, so I took down their license plate numbers to put on the molotov cocktails I was going to throw on them after the eggs. Hell, I needed something to do tomorrow anyway.
It's cold. And windy. Really fucking windy. Like, turn your ignition off and sail down the road windy. Or get arms like Arnold from fighting the crosswind windy. Or lay down and let the pressure wave from the atomic blast peel the flesh off your bones windy. Good thing I keep a spare set of skin that I peeled off a hobo in the closet. Don't worry, I washed him first. :-P
Then the store gimp dropped a 12 pack of miller bottles right in front of me. I slapped him so hard his kids are gonna be born dizzy, then grabbed him by the neck and screamed "YOU WASTED BEER YOU STUPID F**K!!!" while I disemboweled him with a rusty can opener that was conviently hanging nearby. To add insult to injury, the little rat bastard went and got a paper bag to clean it up with. Bright boy, that one. Of course, I'm being sarcastic. That was just too stupid to let him live, so I ran back to the scene of the dogfight to get the axe and I hacked off everything sticking out of this dumbass's torso. I just can't stand to see people doing their jobs badly.
The trip to walmart was pretty uneventful, up until I got into line behind this chatty cathy, and an enabler cashier. I didn't really mind though, I wasn't in any hurry. I checked my watch. Why I do that when I don't care what time it is, I dunno. When I got done putting my stuff on the register, I started listening in on the conversation. I guess the blabbermouth had said something about the cashiers at that walmart being slow or something, because Lothar (and I swear I am not making that name up) was going on about how shitty and old the equipment was, how that was why the cashiers were slow, and that the management had been claiming they were going to get it repaired/replaced for like 3 years now but they never had because they were cheap fuckers and never wanted to spend a goddamn dime and how the fuck were they supposed to do their jobs when...
Three men in black suits walked up behind him, grabbed his arms, and held him underneath one of those black hemispheres that hang out of the ceiling. A purple light descended from the sphere, and a look of utter terror appeared on the cashier's face for about half a second. It was only there for half a second because that's how long it took for the cashier's face to melt away into a disgusting mess of blood, snot, and whatever the fuck that blue shit was. As suddenly as they appeared, the three men were gone, taking the sad lump of bones with them, and a cashier named Fred finished ringing up our orders. He was nice.
Driving home I had no less than three asshats come to a complete and utter stop right in front of me while making right turns. I was too damn tired to do much of anything about it at the time, so I took down their license plate numbers to put on the molotov cocktails I was going to throw on them after the eggs. Hell, I needed something to do tomorrow anyway.
It's cold. And windy. Really fucking windy. Like, turn your ignition off and sail down the road windy. Or get arms like Arnold from fighting the crosswind windy. Or lay down and let the pressure wave from the atomic blast peel the flesh off your bones windy. Good thing I keep a spare set of skin that I peeled off a hobo in the closet. Don't worry, I washed him first. :-P
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no subject
Date: 2006-01-15 04:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-15 05:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-15 11:43 am (UTC)same here!