Sunday's drive up your blog… with Ramblin' Rooster

The official blog of RoosterEgg.com

Drunk At Wal-Mart

with 19 comments

If you’ve ever wondered about who or what I am, here’s a little tidbit that should shed light on or otherwise clear the smoke of any hypothesis you may or may not have been working on.

 

I wear a pair of flip-flops that have a hole worn through the heel. So technically when I’m walking around, my right heel is actually walking on the ground.

 

I shop at Wal-Mart. Not because I’m proud or, god forbid, actually think I’m “living better”. I shop at Wal-Mart because it’s close to my house and it’s dirt cheap. After tonight, I may never be able to shop at store #321 again.

 

Don’t forget that I am a Midwest American, which means that I am surrounded by what majority defines as redneck, white trash, food stamp rollers or “those to whom all of society loathes”.

 

So when I enter a Wal-Mart, I see all kinds of things that would render normal Americans blind. Larger than spandex can stretch woman, men who’ve never heard of a tissue of what it’s for, children that have no pants and people without white, consecutively aligned teeth. A lot of times I see people walking through enjoying something they’ve put in their cart, but have yet to purchase. One couple had an open bag of tortilla chips and was dipping their chips into salsa they had poured into a baseball hat.

 

All I’m saying is that I thought that Wal-Mart was a free for all, a place of low priced merchandise and anarchy in the aisles. I’ve long wondered if on some occasion I’ll turn down an aisle filled with prostitutes or a wet bar over by sporting goods.

 

One day I walked in to Wal-Mart carrying an opened beer. My intent was not to stir up trouble of to disturb Gus, the four hundred pound security guard, and his nap. I was just in the middle of drinking my beer and didn’t want it to get warm in the car.

 

I got in the store alright and made it all the way to kitchen trash cans before the loud speaker cried out, “security, aisle 12, security, aisle 12”.

 

I wasn’t even sure if Wal-Mart had aisle numbers so I just kept walking and drinking. Two steps later, a couple of bad ass, Die Hard movie extras stood there in tight uniforms with their arms crossed blocking the aisle. All I could think was where was Gus?

 

I don’t have to tell you, I’m not going down at Wal-Mart for a Coors Light. I scaled the wall of plastic trash cans, bins and organized shelving and took off for produce. The goons gave chase, but my ninja move gave me all the lead I needed.

 

At produce I pelted the guards with everything from kiwi, ($0.69 each) to Pineapple, ($1.29 each). Have you ever been hit in the face with a pineapple? It hurts, trust me!

 

Following the bombardment of fresh fruit I run to the exit and laughed a madman’s laugh as I knew I had made it out. Once outside in the parking lot there was no way I was getting caught.

 

However, I didn’t plan on the eight mile long strand of carts being pulled in by the “cart wrangler” nor did I see them as I turned at full speed and demonstrated the how overrated the saying; “Unstoppable object meets an immovable object” really is.

 

Here’s some free advice, don’t take your beer into Wal-Mart.

 

Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

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19 Responses

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  1. I love it. With all of that – the people with the chips and baseball cap of salsa included – and you’re probably the first one banned from that wal-mart.

    You have my respect, Rooster.

    Don’t worry, I always laugh histerically at people I respect. 😆

    Claire Collins

    July 8, 2009 at 6:41 am

  2. I used to go to Wal-Mart in Florida. Not for their low prices, but because I whole heartedly support evil empires built by born again Christians who fancy divinity for themselves!!

    I don’t think it matters what state you’re in, the Wal-Mart people are the same everywhere. They are like low-priced, low-quality replicas of ordinary people. I believe the store sends out an overpowering radio signal that only 400 pound black women, white trash meth dealing families, and sundress and flip flop wearing great-grandmothers can hear.

    Scott Oglesby

    July 8, 2009 at 4:07 pm

    • Hmm a signal those people, you, me, and Rooster can hear… What’s that saying about us Scott?

      Claire Collins

      July 9, 2009 at 1:39 am

      • Claire Collins, thanks for mentioning that… Yeah, what are you trying to say Scott?!?!?

        Ramblin' Rooster

        July 9, 2009 at 3:27 am

      • Claire- You’re not going to paint me into the ‘those people’ trap, oh no! I remember how much trouble I got in the last time I used those dreaded words. I was casually talking about Australian sheep farmers and just mentioned that those people seem to get a little lonely. It wasn’t even a negative connotation. Well, let me tell you I got letters from just about every Australian sheep farmer on the planet. They boycotted several of my ventures including Lovejuice and put me out of business on the continent!

        I don’t hear the signal either! I only go when they accidentally leave my cage door open and I get scared, so I end up wandering around until I smell nice smells like burnt hot dogs and popcorn. Plus there is a ‘SafePlace’ sticker on the door so I know I’ll be safe until my handlers can find me again!!

        Scott Oglesby

        July 9, 2009 at 7:06 am

    • Scott Oglesby, “low-priced, low-quality replicas of ordinary people” – that’s brilliant. I might have that tattooed on me I love it so much.

      Ramblin' Rooster

      July 9, 2009 at 3:26 am

      • A tattoo of a phrase I coined would be the ultimate honor! It would make me immortal; well until you died too anyway. If you get that tattoo, I’ll get a tattoo of a rooster on my ass, I swear to God I will!! Then we’ll both be immortal!

        Scott Oglesby

        July 9, 2009 at 7:11 am

        • Scott Oglesby, ass immortals! That’s way better than blood brothers!

          Ramblin' Rooster

          July 10, 2009 at 3:17 am

          • Okay *sigh* I don’t know how I keep ending up in these conversations. I should really just break my own fingers. I ended up as the third twin. Now – what the hell am I getting tattood on my ass? A rooster holding a sign that says ” low-priced, low-quality replicas of ordinary people”? Good thing I got plenty of canvass.

            canv-ass.. HA! I cracked myself up!

            Claire Collins

            July 10, 2009 at 5:04 am

  3. Why don’t the 3 of us just start a reality show about tattoo artists who only do ass tats, and are trying to achieve immortality through their work? We could be sponsored by Wal-Mart, and do a spin off of low-priced, low quality people who are in their natural habitat in Wal-Mart, and get the audience heavily involved, oh yea, Jerry Springer has been done. Damn.

    Claire- no, no, no, there are huge differences between the people who stop in to try to find a good deal and/or support an evil empire and the people who end up eating salsa out of baseball hats. Rooster could dedicate a whole blog to “You might be a low-priced, low-quality replica of an ordinary person if…………..”

    Scott Oglesby

    July 10, 2009 at 6:52 am

    • That would be a great blog for Rooster! Maybe Saturday since he has to entertain us with his Rooster Riddle tomorrow.

      Claire Collins

      July 10, 2009 at 6:54 am

    • Scott Oglesby, you might be a low-priced, low-quality replica of an ordinary person if you tattoo your own ass.

      Ramblin' Rooster

      July 11, 2009 at 4:47 am

  4. That was you!
    I’ve heard the stories about the stealthy produce flinger.
    Employees were confused at first thinking this was a new fire escape test run. Then as they realized what was really happening started to secretly cheer you on.
    Although the excitement soon diminshed as a slew of customers started picking up flung produce and demanding some kind of discount.

    cupofmondays

    August 6, 2009 at 5:06 pm

    • cupofmondays, welcome to the roost and it was me! I can tell you right now, no discount was received. I like the way you think. Thanks for commenting.

      Ramblin' Rooster

      August 10, 2009 at 3:09 am


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