The WalMart Story
I have told this story before in another forum and because I have no new publishing news to report (and am at least 30 days away from hearing any based on my early December drinking/submission binge) I’m going to retell “The WalMart Story” to keep my blog alive:
Ok: So after my workout I had to go to WalMart to pick up a few items.
I’m in an interminable lineup at the till – the woman behind me has a sleeveless tee-shirt on and I can see she’s got some of those “jailhouse” tattoos. By “jailhouse” I mean they look like they are done with a razor and a bic pen. And you know what? I can just “feel” her looking at me. Basically: She’s eye-raping me. Totally.
Then … it dawns on me. Fresh from the gym I am still sweating a bit – and gym sweat – like any ultra-manly sweat off of an ultra-man doing something ultra-manly (as opposed to – let’s say – the sweat on a guy after the 5-0 stop him to ask why he’s parked across from the playground for 2 hours at a stretch during working hours) – it’s full of pheromones.
For those of you who don’t know already let me just say this: Ultra-manly pheromones drive. Chicks. Mad. Seriously – it’s like magical fully aroused male sex-panther musk. When the ladies get a whiff they lose control.
Finally I could tolerate my eye-rapist no more so I turned to her and forgetting to use my “inside” voice said “I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!!!”
I’ll be damned nine different ways if she – and a few people in line behind her – didn’t just pack on up and go to another till far, far away.
I didn’t initially realize there were more Pervs than her but whatever – you know me – I judge people by their actions.
Wal Mart eh? Full of pervs or what?
My Name is Steve Passey and I write Fiction.