Disclaimer:  The following post makes light of the various characters one encounters upon entering a Walmart.  If description of said characters is likely to offend, please do not read.  This article is strictly for entertainment and also to help us process what we saw.  This is our story.

In the not too distant past Mr. and Mrs. Burrito Bowl ventured into unknown territory. We went to Walmart.

Our foray into the unknown started off innocently enough.  We needed supplies for my birthday party and we didn’t want to hit up Costco on a weekend.

Mr. Burrito Bowl: Didn’t we watch a documentary about how Walmart slaughters chickens in an inhumane way or something? Should we be supporting them?

Mrs. Burrito Bowl: That was a factory farming documentary and besides we aren’t supporting them because of that, we’re supporting them because they’re cheap.

Mr. Burrito Bowl: Noted.

“Damnit, you’re wearing a bra.”

We pulled into the parking lot.  It was a hot summer day.  Walmart people were out in full force.  Many of them were wearing pajama pants with various cartoon characters on them.  Many of them just weren’t wearing any pants.  Walmart has its own people.

“They know we aren’t one of them,” I whispered to Mrs. Burrito Bowl. She was dressed as if she knew she would be out in a place where other people could see her.

“Damnit, you’re wearing a bra,” I muttered under my breath.

“Honey, stop,” she said as we entered the store and passed not fewer than 4 separate women none of which were wearing appropriate attire for being out in public.

A man stood motionless in the doorway wearing cutoff jean short-shorts and cowboy boots.

“I feel scared and a little icky,” I said being judgmental.

We started collecting our items while the Netflix documentary of chickens being butchered flashed through my head.  To be fair I might have been thinking of a factory farm documentary but it seemed like even in that documentary they sold their chickens to Walmart.  It’s hard to say if my fears were unfounded or not.

“Well this place is f*cking great!”

“This place is awfu…hey wait!” I exclaimed, “Limes are only sixteen cents here?  Well this place is f*cking great!”

“Yeah, honey.  It’s cheap here,” Mrs. Burrito Bowl responded with a knowing smile.

“Why doesn’t everyone shop here all the time?” I asked.

“Well,” she started to explain, “It gets a bad rap because…”

“LUNCHABLES!!” A female voice from three aisles over pierced the air, “I got the kids lunchables and…HEY! Hey what else do you…I swear to God..This kid…Well what do YOU WANT?!?”

“It doesn’t have the best ambience,” Mrs. Burrito Bowl finished.

“Still, limes are sixteen cents,” I responded.

The voice from three aisles over continued her conversation with whoever was on the other line, and also everyone else in the general vicinity.

Walmart Cosplay Convention

We filled our grocery cart with everything we’d need to host a birthday party and also eat leftovers for the next several weeks.  Every few feet we ran into someone new who I can only assume has been featured in the “People of Walmart” calendar.

Overall it was amusing that, yes, people seemed to take the time to dress like they were going to Walmart before venturing into the store.  It was like a Walmart Cosplay convention only nobody knew there was a convention.

I contemplated getting autographs just in case any of the customers became internet famous but we were short on time and it was overwhelming trying to figure out where to start.  As I scanned the entire store I started internalizing how vastly we were outnumbered.  The walls were closing in on us.  My heart rate started to creep up as my eyes darted from person to person.

“Do you think we should get a mosquito repellant?” Mrs. Burrito Bowl asked as if she wasn’t secretly also mentally breaking.

“How can you think of mosquito repellent at a time like this?” I responded, “We need to get the f*ck out of here.”

“Maybe we should split-up.”  What? have you never watched a horror movie?

We picked register 5, the shortest line that had only two other people in front of us.  Neither of them had more than a couple of items.  Each item was held by the checker and scanned at a rate that could be described as glacial.  He moved unnaturally slow like a malfunctioning robot someone accidentally hit 1/2 speed on.

Still, there was only a total of 5 things needing to be scanned before it was our turn so we figured we were in the best line.

“I’m going to go get the mosquito repellent,” Mrs. Burrito Bowl said, foolishly splitting our group up.

“What?” I responded, “Have you never watched a horror movie?”

It was no use. She was gone.

Lady Xerxes and the Magical Register 2

“Register 2 is faster,” I turned towards a female voice only to be confronted with boobs and a name badge directly in my face.  My eyes shot up to the 6’7 lady looking down on me like Xerxes looking down on Leonidas in the movie 300.

I turned to look back at the 4 remaining items needing to be scanned before our turn, then at the roughly 347 items stacked up at register 2.  I looked back at the lady Xerxes.

“Trust me, it will be faster,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” I responded, but in my heart I felt fear.

As a result of her power I rolled our cart over to register 2.  The items in register 2 seemed to skip off the conveyer belt at double speed.  I gleefully watched as the checker made artwork out of the actual trash the people in front of us had bought with real money they owned.   In no time flat I was standing in front of her, mouth agape at her magical checkout abilities.

“It’s ok honey, we can go home now.”

“Your total is $147.17,” the magician said with a smile.  I looked down at the roughly $300 worth of items we purchased.

I glanced over to see the customer at register 5, who was initially in front of us, still had two items needing scanned before it would have been our turn.  My eyes scanned the store once more and I made eye contact with the kind lady Xerxes.  She gave me a knowing nod as we turned to head for the exits.

A man in jean short-shorts and a cowboy boot stood in the doorway but we went around him without much issue.

We passed under the automatic doors and out into the July sun but we didn’t feel like suntanning right then. We walked by a bald white guy in his 50s with a 5 foot dreadlocked rat tail.

I started to hyperventilate slightly. I thought back on my training and immediately began Wim Hof Breathing.

“It’s ok honey,” Mrs. Burrito Bowl said as she grabbed my hand. “We can go home now.”

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