I am not one of those radicalized people who feel the need to constantly point out trouble or injustice. I observe everything but don’t always feel its my place to educate the masses as I am an extremely flawed individual and would have little tolerance for the “help” myself. That is unless you drag me in. And so begins today’s tale.

I was doing my Sunday early morning Walmart run. My wife refuses to shop there but they have great prices on the poisonous liquid to which I am addicted. Plus I buy all of the things my family goes through like toilet paper for example (like) toilet paper. Sunday morning in the place is relatively quiet so I can get in and out in great time. This morning there was a little snag at one of the few open registers as a dud did’t want to pay more than $2.50 for his clearance running shoes. I am perfectly clear on the facts of this case as I heard him repeat it five times to four different people. I had made great time and already half unloaded my cart, wait, did I mention that I buy all liquids deemed too heavy for my wife to carry? So I had laundry detergent, a case of water, a case of Gatorade, the girl’s Diet Coke, and MY Diet Coke (that explanation is for another time) and didn’t feel like repacking to save a little time.

Our check out girl was also paying a politeness penalty with the cheap shoe hole because she was wearing a hijab. I was behind a tallish ‘merican who was clearly throwing attitude toward the girl. This alone was pissing me off but I was just going to apologize for the asshole when it was my turn and tell her how professionally she handled the entire situation. Then the dude started trying to bring me in for backup. Can you believe “these people”? (most of the Walmart staff has browner than me skin so that’s what I think he was saying but the entire United Nations works there as the spoiled assholes in my area find that store and job beneath them) I just looked at him with a frozen face and tilted my head RCA Dog style. (look it up if you are too young to get the reference)

He didn’t like my noncommittal to the cause so he started to tell me the entire tale for which I gave not one shit. Still no reaction got me “And she doesn’t even have enough cash in her drawer for me to pay with cash!” It was finally time for me to talk. “Its early, maybe she just opened, why don’t you try being nice instead of acting like a giant douche.” he then asked me what I meant by douche and said something about people always using that word because they were too scared to swear in this politically correct blah blah blah… so I thought I should explain.

“A douche is the delivery device for a solution to supposedly keep lady parts clean. Its a bottle or a bag with an ugly nozzle on top that serves no other purpose than to cause half of the human population discomfort. Most likely invented by a man because I have yet to come across a system to deliver a cleaning solution down my dickhole. If people still have one around somewhere its crammed under the bathroom sink way in the back because its embarrassing to be around. I’d bet it makes other plastic containers uncomfortable. YOU are a douche.”

He didn’t talk to me anymore which was what I was going for but my tirade made it so the girl wouldn’t look me in the eyes. I even tried the aforementioned apology and praise thing but didn’t even get a smile in response. Probably went a little far for her with the dickhole thing. Oh well, I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.

Oh, and the shoes came back at $12.50 so he left them. When I was driving home I thought of so much I should have added not the least of which was douche being a French word. That one might have granted me some back so I could have delivered more forth.

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