Walmart Banshee

I was pushing a shopping cart around Walmart the other day, dodging what I could only guess were rednecks and homeless people, wondering once again why I sacrificed a pleasant, odor-free environment just so I wouldn't have to drive too far, when I heard an ungodly commotion coming from the pet supplies aisle.

“Get the f--- off me, mother f---ers!!” some creature was shrieking. “Don't you touch me, b----! Get the f--- off me!!"

Naturally I was curious. After all, in normal circumstances, the most exciting part about shopping at Walmart is leaving the store. This was certainly more interesting than anything else that had happened that day, not counting what happened on T.V. I had to get a closer look, so I nonchalantly turned my cart in the direction of the screaming, which increased in volume as I approached. “Get the f--- off me! Get the f--- off me!!” the creature moaned over and over again. Soon I could make out that someone was being pinned by what looked like half a dozen cops. About that time I reminded myself that I hate “lookie-loos,” the kind that stare like stunned cattle at anything and everything, especially near car accidents, causing much more traffic than the accident ever could. So I decided to keep my distance, continue shopping, and let the cops do their job.

But the screaming kept going, on and on and on. It seemed like Walmart had a recording they were looping over the loudspeakers, although why they would choose a chorus of “Get the f--- off me,” to their normal new-age elevator music, I can't begin to explain. Reaching out to younger markets, probably.

As the screaming continued, I kept staring at items I had no intention to buy, just so I could listen for any new developments, all the while pretending non-interest. Most people were not so discreet, often walking right up to the cops before being shooed away. Finally, the cops stood up and begin to lead the angry screamer towards the front of the store. I was surprised to see that the detainee was no more than a small, pudgy girl, that couldn't have been older than 16. My first thought was, wow that girl has lungs! What a waste of talent, entertaining the masses at Walmart instead of on a stage at a death-metal concert. My second thought was, why are some people so easily provoked into hysteria? The girl was still screaming, at full force, “Get the f--- off me, b----!” to the female cop holding her arms. She was in her own, rage-induced world, hollering for no reason other than to keep up her strange pseudo-rhythm. My third thought was deeper still: do I really need eggs? I could have sworn I bought eggs just last week.

It seems like it would take A LOT to get me as riled up as that girl; like someone murdering my parents, and then murdering my friends, and then murdering all the band members in The Stills. Perhaps then I could reach her level of hysteria. As to what brought out this rage in the girl, I can only guess. Maybe some of Walmart's “falling prices” hit her in the face. Or maybe she was attacked by that scary smiley face from the commercials. I admit, I would be upset if that happened to me. In fact, just that “rollin' rollin' rollin'” song alone could drive me into an insane rage. I'm wetting myself from anger, just thinking about it.