Walmart, Why Doeth Thee Not Have My Ground Blind?

I used to go hunting with my brother, uncle and two friends.  In the Fall of 2014, I decided to get a ground blind somewhat close to when I was going to be driving to a different state to do the hunting.  I checked around and found that I could get one delivered to a Walmart along the way, as I was heading down to the cabin.

You can figure out from the below what happened.  When it did happen I wrote the below and submitted it to their online order website.  I wrote it in one sitting, without going back and editing.  When you read it you will also agree there was no editing, or spell checking, or grammar blah blah.  I just typed, and submitted.

I did not get a reply.

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Dearest Walmart,

Walmart, how are you today? Good I hope. It’s been a while since you and I chatted so I thought I would take this occasion to send you an email.

You look nice today, has anyone told you that? No? Well you do.

Love the hair.

Last week I was looking for a ground blind and after much soul-searching I thought “Why not try my good friend Walmart?” It was the right choice. There was the ground blind I was looking for at a cheaper cost than I could get anywhere else!

I should not have been surprised. “Ah, it’s you….” I remember thinking when the realization hit that I would be purchasing my ground blind from you. I was on my laptop with a warm beverage curled up in a large chair on my back deck, the sun streaming through the trees.

A bird was also chirping.

My only concern was if my ground blind would arrive on time to leave for hunting in two Thursdays. Today was Tuesday and that would give 9 days to deliver. Imagine my delight when I noticed that it would arrive at my local Walmart (chosen carefully from the list of nearest Walmarts, all within 25 miles of my current location!) THIS COMING THURSDAY! Clearly doing business with you, Walmart, was the best choice!

I placed the order and went to bed, dreaming of being able to receive my arrival text (neat feature by the way!) and walk into my local Walmart and pick up my pre-paid ground blind! Walking into Walmart and hearing all the mom’s count to three so their kids know they mean business as well as smelling the greeters who curiously have the odor of formaldehyde would be like seeing an old friend after years apart and picking up where we left off!

I would also pick up some toothpaste as I am running low.

I woke up the next morning (hey the start of a blues song!) and checked my email. An order confirmation for my ground blind! Hurrah! I scanned the email noticing the festive logo you now have (kudos to whomever thought of that!) and sure enough, there was my order with the correct amount with a delivery date of …… the following Thursday! What? How can this be? An entire weeks difference? I was panicked, Walmart! I checked the date to be sure and yes, it was for the day that I WAS GOING TO BE DRIVING AWAY FROM WALMART AND TOWARDS HUNTING. I was confused.

I was also hungry so I made some toast.

I went back to walmart.com and went through the motions of placing another order. Sure enough the arrival date was THIS THURSDAY!

Treachery.

At first I thought there must be some mistake. How could Walmart lie to me? My non-belief turned to disappointment. My disappointment went to dismay. Dismay gave way to a bit of panic. Panic led to anger. Anger firmed up to resolve.

I purchased that ground blind from you because you had the right combination of price and delivery date, Walmart, how could you do this to me?

I better have my ground blind. Fail to get me my ground blind before I drive away, Walmart, and you will wish you had a ready supply of ground blinds on hand just for this purpose.

On my way out of town I am going to stop by my local Walmart and demand my ground blind. Failure to produce my ground blind will result in the following actions.

First I will not give away that nothing is amiss. I will thank the floor manager with the natty pants and back away with my hands held up, keeping my eyes on his in-store communicator. One move and I will duck into the nearest aisle and over a period of time I will make my way to the rear dock, out the store and over the fence.

Walmart you don’t realize I’ve been preparing for this day. For the last six days I’ve been eating four meals a day. Meal 1 is nothing but steak, and a 32 oz. one at that. Meal 2 is Chipotle. Meal 3 is always a bag of 10 White Castles (with onion chips) and meal 4 is a double dose of Metamucil. Six days worth. Showering has not occurred.

The first thing I will do is go to your halloween section and fart in all the face masks. Thick and viscous, the kids are going to be in for a treat when they try on that Spider Man and Wonder Woman mask!

Pleased with my opening volley I will head directly to the women’s section and try on five sets of french cut panties and three pair of Double D hooter hangers. The french cut panties will be put on and sawed back and forth like I’m trying to cut myself in half. When I’m done I’ll be as raw as a dog with a severe case of the mange on his ass that has dragged it back and forth across your living room carpet until it is stained red. The Double D hooter hangers are just because I like to wear them and feel pretty.

I like them plain and not fancy.

Next I will be going into your pharmacy area and opening up the boxes of condoms and replace with them with wet knaps. No disease or pregnancies will be prevented but several ladies are going to have fresh breath!

Mint scented, for your discriminating palate.

Remember my six day meal plan? By this time my stomach will have started to rumble.

Some cramping will occur.

I have two more stops, Walmart, to reward you for causing me to have to leave for my trip without my ground blind.

My next stop will have to be quick as I am having difficulties walking and concentrating with Hurricane Terrible about to come ashore near my sphincter.

I will skip my next stop… the pain will be unbearable.

I will head straight towards your bathroom, with malicious intent.

It may take a while to get to your bathroom, shuffling like a man who has bad knees and a bad back.

It takes a full 15 minutes to get to the rear of the store, only to find out that your bathrooms are at the front.

Walmart I will have arrived at your bathroom to find it has recently been checked by your sanitation manager for cleanliness. I hope for his sake that ended his shift and he is driving very far away with his phone off.

I am feeling cramping like only a new bride gets when she is getting ready to disappoint her groom during their honeymoon trip to Hawaii. Only this compensatory backdoor action will be far messier.

The tremors are increasing in intensity.

The log ride starts before all riders are buckled in place and the protective barrier is down only part way.

Only years of sphincter kegels allows me to remove all clothing and hang it on the provided hook.

Then I bend over and firmly grip my legs towards the bottom of my calves. And I relax. And then push. And I feel six days of layered hell attempting to escape an opening far smaller than the container it resides in. And it gushes.

And then I twerk. Oh how I twerk, dear Walmart! I shake dat ass like only the most desperate single mom can while trying to attract the scant dollars available on a Tuesday up on stage at the local strip joint. I shake it until my lower spine screams in pain.

Yet I continue.

Layer after layer of the foulest substance known to man coats the floor, wall, and some of the ceiling. I shudder with the pleasure of relieved pain, and I shiver as if a fever is about to break.

My tape worms hang on for their lives.

An explosive pocket of gas erupts and the wall looks curiously like a humorously large daisy that has been painted brown and then shitted on and thrown against a wall.

I finish.

My sphincter is burning.

I cleanup.

I leave.

Without my ground blind.

Screw you Walmart, you whore.

I am CERTAINLY not going to buy any toothpaste from you.

This visit.

Mike

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