FicWad

My local Wal-Mart was very large. It had to be very large because it could have possibly been the only other Wal-Mart within a million-mile radius. The people from the nearby towns like Wilmette and Glenview and South Russell all drove to Winnetka to shop at our Wal-Mart. Naturally, it was a large supermarket.

And everyone knows that large supermarkets had large car parks. The Wal-Mart had been there even when I was a little girl. I had once tried to count the parking spaces when my mom left me in the car. There had been close to fifty parking spaces (I had never managed to count them all) and since then there had been more added.

The newest editions to the car park were three small sheltered areas that had two parking spaces in them. They were my favourite because they were closest to the door and when it rained my car didn't get wet until I pulled out of the parking space. But these spots were often taken so I parked in one of the many other empty spaces.

It was early in the afternoon and there were very few cars in the parking lot but the sheltered places were already taken. But there were lots of free spaces. Big, free, nice, empty spaces to park in. Lots of them. Yes, lots. Possibly hundreds.

So why the hell was a small, silver, girly car parked in between a red car and a black car in one of the sheltered places? The other cars were parked tidily in the parking spaces whilst some idiot had decided to park in between them in a space that they shouldn't have been able to get into. And to top it all off, that space was evidently a non-parking space.

I think I've just found my arch-nemesis.

I parked my car sensibly in an empty space. I no longer felt the need to buy cereal and ice cream bars. I wanted to know who drove the ugly little car into the non-parking space that was unbelievably tiny. So I sat in my car.

Need I remind you that it was early in the afternoon (when I should've been taking my afternoon nap) and that I had only come to Wal-Mart because my sister had requested that I do so, while she stayed home and cleaned, because we were running low on cereal. It was two thirty pm. So it was understandable that I fell asleep.

And when I woke up it was two forty-seven pm and the silver car was nowhere to be seen. I was angry that I hadn't found out who drove the silver car but I would be back. So I just went inside the supermarket and to the cereal, pens and the ice cream bars that I knew Courtney would shout at me for buying because of the calories and E numbers and shit.

During my time inside of Wal-Mart I discovered something horrible. I managed to find several boxes of cereal to buy with great ease because they lined the entire back wall. It was somewhat intimidating and downright terrifying... especially if you find it a struggle to reach the fourth shelf and impossible to reach the fifth like myself.

And finding some ice cream bars wasn't too hard. There was a chill that emanated from the frozen goods section. I just had to follow the chill. It was sort of like playing the hot and cold game but hot was 'not so close' and cold was 'close'.

But finding a pen was hell. Courtney had told me that she wanted blue pens. Personally, I was more in favour of black pens that any other pens. In fact, I hated almost all of the coloured pens and gel pens. And I didn't like those packs of twenty-five pens. Who was going to need twenty-five pens? All at once? Pssh.

I had spent my entire life buying good black pens. They came in packs of three and packs of five and sometimes in packs of seven (though I never bought those packs because I thought they were a tad excessive). I had always looked upon the other pens with disdain. Stupid coloured pens, stupid cheap pens, stupid biro pens etc.

And then when I wanted to buy a single coloured pen but not a really scaffy one, I couldn't find a pack less than twenty-five. I wanted blue pens and I knew that Courtney would not settle for any other coloured pen. They had mixed packs, of course, but that was a waste of money in my eyes.

The pens eyed me as I passed them for the sixteenth time. Or was it the seventeenth? I was losing track of time. My willpower was seeping out of me. I was losing energy fast. Perhaps I was dehydrated. That was always a possibility.

"Excuse me, miss, can I help you?" A boy who looked about fifteen years old asked me.

"What makes you think I need help?" I snapped irritably. It was the lack of blue pens talking. Had there not been a lack of blue pens, I would've been more polite.

"This is the fifth time you've walked down this aisle," he stated. "I thought perhaps you couldn't find the product you wanted."

"I need a single blue pen - just one!"

He looked terrified but he continued to talk to me anyway. Brave little boy. Hopefully God would reward him for his courage and send him to heaven.

"We don't have any single blue pens... but you could always buy a mixed packet..." His voice trailed away when he saw the look in my eyes. It was the type of look that a cat might wear before they ate a gerbil. I think the boy had just realised that he was my gerbil.

"Fine!" I exclaimed, snatching the packet away from him and marching to the cashier. I bought the mixed packet even though I didn't want to. It contained three black pens, two red pens and one blue pen. Now I had three black pens that I wouldn't finish because they were biros and two red pens that neither me or Courtney would use.

When a co-worker told me, a few days later, that I talked too little I decided to tell her about the pen conspiracy. I also mentioned the pencils and their evil plot. When I had finished she looked bored out of her mind and said, "Never talk to me about stationery again."

Some people just don't see the big picture in life. I pity her. The big picture is pencils and pens and shitty incorporations who want to cheat people out their money.



Author's Note: There wasn't much in this chapter, just meaningless ranting. But pay attention to the silver car episode. Perhaps there is more to that than we or you think. laughs evilly I feel so powerful. You are all at my mercy.

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