Welcome to the Thunderdome: The Slot
I’ve made no bones about my distaste for Wal-mart … or should I say the dregs of society that frequent the bastion of commercialism and Everyday Low Prices.
(I realize that I am the part of those dregs … but I listen to waaaaayyyy better music.)
I took a risky trip over the weekend. It’s the like the Death Star of reprobates, trustees from the county jail, imbeciles and TB patients.
The Wal-mart in Waxahachie, Texas.
I knew it was bad news. Why did I go? Convenience. That always gets you.
After 10 minutes inside, I texted a friend “I think I’ve somehow added a chromosome due to exposure and now have Down’s syndrome.”
Still, the onus is on me to control my surroundings.
Attempting escape in the check-out line, I look to my left. And I saw this. I took a photo.
I don’t know a lot about Redbox (I am a Netflix patron myself), but I am 100 percent sure that isn’t the slot you return the DVDs, ma’am.
(Note: Please do not use Redbox. You too might gain a chromosome.)
– Mad Dad
Crib Keeper’s Note: Shout out to the car keys hanging on that ever so classy assy. Through the magic of a dangling carabiner the jingles give her tingles. Those poor keys are the real heroes.