Panic and Underwear

  Into Wal-Mart I went; I needed some new underwear. The cartoonish boxers I had on under my loose jeans were beyond repair; Scooby-Doo's face now looked like a large turd with a tongue. The waistband, once full of flexible vitality, was now as slack as stoner's face after a monster bong-rip. Had I not been wearing a belt, my drawers would surely have been inching down to bunch at my thigh-line or sucked up into the dark netherworld of my backside. Thankfully, I had indeed found a belt, and with it wrapped tightly around my ever-expanding waist (quite proud of my beer gut, am I), I strode forward into the wondrous world of Mr. Walton, the planet of the Wal-Martians.

Upon entering this strange world of retail, I immediately stumbled upon a dilemma; do I get a basket, just large enough to hold a few pairs of new undies, or should I go with a cart in case I discover something utterly unnecessary to my daily life, one that I absolutely must have? It was a frightful situation; with the myriad Wal-Martians droning past me, I found it difficult to think or even breathe - I had to make a decision NOW. With my fight-or-flight reflexes taking over, I grabbed a cart from the greeter, mumbled something that sounded like "thank you, sir", and rushed headfirst into the crowd. I was off.

Once I entered the flow of traffic inside the store, my nerves began to calm and I could think clearly again. Just now realizing I had snagged a cart, and not the smaller basket I'd planned on, I began to wander the home decor aisle. Browsing the lanes, I felt compelled to buy something big - big enough to just fit in my cart, but not take up too much space. I could feel the Wal-Mart magic washing through me, as though it was taking over my soul. I tried weakly to push the sensation away, but failed - my resistance had worn low from the initial overwhelming barrage I'd suffered earlier.

As the foggy haze induced by the Wal-Muzak clouded my brain further and further, I became more interested in the housewares being offered by Mr. Walton's lackeys. A lovely computer desk here (much too large), a lampshade made of Llama hair there(too small to fill up the buggy); my jaw stood agape at the fantastic quality of merchandise here.

Of a sudden, my eyes alit on It. The Thing that I would take home with me; that one purchase of purchases that would complete my Wal-Mart experience; the faux-wicker laundry hamper. With stars in my vision and little birds singing merrily in my ears, I grinned widely at a passing Wal-Martian and hauled the box of my hamper down from the top shelf where it had been waiting for me. Placing it in my buggy-cart, I strolled down the aisle, head held high in pride, for I was Josh, King of the Home Decor Aisle.

From seemingly nowhere, a gentleman with a blue smock appeared beside me and asked if I'd found everything I needed. I turned to face him and reply "Why yes, I most certainly did, my friend!", but when I spun to greet this Wal-Martian, something happened. The muzak faded out. The false smile on the smocked fellow's face melted into a grimace of pain. The Wal-Mart glamour I had succumbed to so easily just minutes earlier began to lift from my weary mind. Panic set in.

Once again, the fight-or-flight mechanism kicked in, this time more mightily than ever before. Grabbing the now-disgustingly cheesy-looking hamper from my cart, I hurled it toward another Smock-Martian, impeding his progress momentarily. Glancing at the first Smocky, I saw he was regaining his consciousness, as though he was affected by the glamour too; fearing he was beyond saving, I thrust the cart into his midsection once, twice, thrice, then ran at top speed toward the exit. In my single-minded race to freedom, only briefly did my original plan pass through my brain; there would be no underwear bought today. Passing through the exit, nearly overwhelmed with relief, I smiled; I had won, dammit. I had won.