Thursday, April 7, 2011

Where Do They Come From?

It always amazes me when I go to Wal-mart on the weekends, what (not who) I will see. Where do they come from? And trust me, I assure you it only happens down here. They must just come in from somewhere out there, parts unknown. I don't think the mother ship is parked behind the store, although, honestly, I never looked

I've never seen more than 2 arms or legs on any given body, but never stayed around long enough to try to count digits. Even if you weren't from around here, trust me, you couldn't miss them. One would think they were members of some sponsored team, since most of them sport t-shirt, sweats, and jackets with logos of cigarette brands, automobile companies, and NASCAR. 

This past Saturday, I was in line behind a very large woman with tattoos, bleached hair pulled up with a banana clip, cropped pants, and red stilettos. She was accompanied by a "gentleman" twice her size dressed in a sleeveless camouflage shirt, blue jeans, and yellow crocs and two children that looked like they had crawled out from under a rock (or the car on blocks in the front yard) one dressed in a black Dale Earnhardt tee-shirt and the other in the requisite Winston Cigarette jacket. The man and woman were having a high level discussion over a dozen donuts, a frozen pizza, and a bottle of Trimspa Diet Pills. 

The conversation went like this, "But if I buy these pills, I can eat the pizza and the donuts. Anna Nicole Smith said she used these pills and that was how she loss weight." "Oh, yeah." "Yeah," she said as looked at the box of diet capsules.  Then the mother (I assume) came up and weighed in (no pun intended), "How 'bout some pills to make some old rich man marry you. That's what you need." About that time the younger woman turns around and hits the young boy in the black tee-shirt on the back of his head, "I've told you John, Jr. not to hit your sister. We don't hit other people. Do you get it?

Behind me in line are two dower Mennonite women dressed in their traditional knee length calico dresses with their small caps and sensible shoes quietly taking in the scene (and no less praying for their souls) and a very distinguished little African American woman in her Sunday-go-to-meeting outfit, complete with matching hat and purse. And, there I am in my blue jeans and sweater holding my Diet Cokes (with lime) and collards, thinking about how good those donuts look.

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