Instinctively (I have been in this store before), I
head directly to the electronics section and cast a glance at the
Father's Day section as I pass it. I do not expect my children to
present me with a plastic loving cup that says, "#1 Redneck
There is lots of cheap stuff in the electronics
section, but one item in particular stands out from the rest. It's a
round portable CD player with a brand I never hear of selling for
$12.84. It's from China, of course. Why that's cheaper that most CD's,
even the ones that WalMart sells. Other items—telephones, boomboxes,
etc.—also have low-ball items with the same brand. Slave labor, I
I figure that I really have to buy something so I go
over to the paper products section and grab a three-pack of Kleenex. It's
three bucks and change and I pay $2.99 at Target. I'm not impressed,
especially for a place that needs maintenance badly.
I go by the magazine rack and find nothing of
interest. The invasion of Maxim and its ilk has not arrived here though
oddly the November 2003 issue of Esquire with a female pop idol
(her name and condition of undressed have been edited out to eliminate
spurious Google visits to this page) on the cover is alone in a rack away from the other magazines. Have the
puritan magazines cast it out from their midst? Is our female pop idol playing the role of Hester Prynne? Has it been sitting there for over
half a year? This is more than a little scary, so I figure that it's
time to leave.
On the way to the checkout, I look in the OTC drug
section for the primo antihistamine: Chlor-Trimeton in the12mg
candy-coated tablet. No luck. Then it strikes me that the store is
arranged all wrong. It should be organized by condition or state of
mind. I could use a "Sneezy" section. My store would have a
"Horny" section, too.
All three checkout lines were long and none of the
express lines were open. I was bombarded with candy and was glad that
the aftereffects of the Krispy Kreme glucose infusion made for excellent
aversion therapy. I was also able to resist a SpongeBob sponge for
$1.34. There's only room in this ironic universe for one of us. The lady
in front of me was getting grief because the Waltons had initiated a
vendetta against her particular piece of plastic. I paid and left. No
one asked to look inside the Krispy Kreme box.
I stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few items
on my way home. It was a Hannaford on the far end of the big-box mall
from Wal-Mart. It was immaculately clean and well-lighted with a few
small and discrete black hemispheres. I was through the express lane in
I'm done turning my donut box into a story. Maybe once
the pollen subsides I'll go back to Wal-Mart. Then, I'll really be able
to smell it. On second thought, maybe I won't.
Copyright 2004 by Ross M. Miller. Permission
granted to forward by electronic means and to excerpt or broadcast 250
words or less provided a citation is made to RiggedOnlinecom.