Walmart and the horn of Helm’s Deep

Why do I keep going there? I loath Walmart. I loath the people there and most of all I loath myself for stepping foot into that backwoods carnival. Yet I go, I try to go at 1 or 2 in the morning. Not that don’t want to be seen there just that the orcs and assorted Nair-do-wells are huddled in a RV doing meth and singing Sweet Home Alabama.

Dear reader if I haven’t mentioned it before I would like to state for the record that I have a very strange phobia about Walmart. I cant be in there longer than 10 min’s or I freak out. Ask anyone that has gone with me and they will tell you I have a Darwinian shot clock. I guess that the melange of inbreeding and the lack of teeth or footwear just spooks me and 10 min’s is my hair trigger. No matter what I’m doing, at the 10 min mark I just walk. Yet again I digress.

So I am shopping for my useless goods and it hits, I need to tinkle. Lets just say that I have a very industrious bladder and when I have to go I really have to go. So I’m in Walmarts door-less bathroom, I say door-less not to give the impression that I’m peeing in view of everyone its just that the configuration of the entrance is like a corn maze. You have to walk around a few corners and such. As restrooms go its pretty nice, clean and spacious. Modern looking with subway tiles all over. So I’m at the urinal doing my thing when I fart. Not your normal fart. The kind that makes you look behind you to see if there are any casualties. Like when you fire a sam missile and you are worried about the backwash of stage 1 ignition. Well as a well-versed bathroom farter I spun my head in search of someone to blame this on. This is a technique I developed years ago and it has served me well. You fart then let someone else exit the bathroom before you thereby taking the brunt of the scorn. I forgot, it is 1 am and there is nobody.

Now this was no ordinary flatus. It wasn’t the most violent one that I have laid down but definitely in the top 10. What made it worse was the fact that someone decided to model the acoustics in there after the Sistine Chapel. After I got past the initial fear(yes my own farts scare me, they remind me of the evil spirits leaving the Ark in Indian Jones). I thought that it might be ok as the din of all the Hee-Hawwers coming through line might hide the blast. Then I remembered the hour and as I exited my gaze was met with 3 employees looking at me with disgust. I was embarrassed and scurried for something to say, preferable something monosyllabic so that they might understand better.

I just told them that somebody might want to check on “that guy in there” and made hast for the door.

My 10 minutes had just elapsed.