Archive for August 10th, 2017

Walmartians Offer Columbine Special

Once upon a time the Walmartians moved into the towns and cities and drove all the locally-owned stores out of business by offering such can’t-miss super-cheap whizbangs as plastic toilets from China and Vietnamese televisions fashioned from shoelaces. The Walmartians employed phalanxes of scarifying old people who would hover menacingly at the entrances and shout “WELCOME TO WALMART” at top volume to all and every entering the edifice in search of rubber icepicks or picture-frames formed of Big Hunks. The stores were bigger DGz4-fFUwAAUSItthan nine aircraft carriers and were always open, all day and all of the night, for anyone who might feel a sudden midnight need for a glass pacifier or a jackhammer made of jujubees. Offering the Americans what they needed—asbestos toys, foodstuffs the human body instantly transforms into diahrrea—allowed the owners of the chain, the Walmartian family, to accumulate more dollars than the poorest 90 million of the Americans combined.

But the Walmarts are over now, in recent years reduced to little more than vast cavernous hidey-holes for yeehaws cooking up batches of methamphetamine. The stores are today known as Walmeths, and are avoided by anyone with teeth. Gone are the days when the news-tubes would recurrently pulse out scenes of certified horror, as the Americans trampled one another to secure in the Walmeths shoes sewn of petrified pizza, or lawnmowers made of twine. The Walmartians did not understand, until it was far too late, that this is a tubes-shopping world now, and so Bezos is beating them like a gong, draining all the money from the Walmeths and applying it to the project to shoot Mongo into space. The Walmartians are so helpless and hapless, in their belated and thoroughly club-footed attempts to tube, that they are best known for boners like offering via their tubes wig-caps described as “nigger brown.” The Walmeths are buggy whips, and they are over. Soon the barefoot beleaguered members of the Walmartian family will be shuffling into a soup kitchen, hoping there to find a crust, while Bezos will have purchased all the old Walmartian aircraft hangers—emptied now of the toasters made of hemp and the black velvet tombstones—and into them the MongoRoids shall be herded, until they can be transported to Imbecile Island.

The Walmartians are in their final days now, and so, in a desperate attempt to remind people they still exist, they recently elected to offer firearms as a back-to-school special. Walmeths remain the largest retailer of firearms and ammunition in the country, and apparently it was decided Right and Meet to encourage the young people to pick up a Glock or two to take to the school, along with the patented Walmeth concrete backpack and the gym clothes of 100% poison ivy.

When the Sane and Decent people noticed the Walmeths were peddling firearms as toys for tots, a Walmartian clanked out to address the news-tubes, roboting: “we regret this situation and are looking into how it could have happened.” But the deed was done. The Americans were reminded. That still there are Walmeths. For a while.

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