You Are Now Entering The Twilight Zone

I lied to myself today. I told myself I would just "run into WalMart" since I had a half hour before I had to be at the baby shower I was going to. The lie is that you can NEVER "run into WalMart". Never.

There is a disruption in the space time continuum as you walk in the sliding doors.

"Hi! Welcome to WalMart!" they say. Or so you think. Really, it is a secret code that stalls your personal space time continuum.

No matter how fast you walk, it is never fast enough. Even if you just stick to your list, inevitably, the last thing on your list will be impossible to find. You will look for a clerk, but the only ones you can find will be holding their name badges in their hands making a beeline for the doors- eager themselves to break free from the time suck. When you do finally find your clerk, he/she will direct you to either one or the other department. They will, of course, be on opposite ends of the store. Coincidentally, neither one will have your item. That item, you will finally learn, will be in the department next to the first one- yep, on the other side of the store. Finding the right department, you will see that the stock of said item is pitifully low- neither model will fit your needs.

You pull your cell phone out of your pocket- your only life line to the outside world- only to see that you have spent 45 actual minutes inside the timeless abyss. Now, to check out....

You quickly find the shortest line and hop in it. And then the lighted number on the pole starts to blink. It must be an electrical phenomenon, because as you contemplate moving, all the other lights either start blinking or shut down entirely. You sigh and resign yourself to the line you are in.

Standing, as you are, with no where to go and nothing to do, you begin to contemplate the company around you. Amazingly, they all look like they hit their heads on the shallow end of the gene pool. Maybe, just maybe, they have been here so long that they have given up all hope and have taken to interbreeding. Hm, it's a theory. I mean, there is a restaurant, all manner of food, bathrooms, cell phone vendors, and, come April, tax preparation specialists. It's just a theory.

When you finally break free from the swirling vortex and break for the door, they say to you on your way out, "Thank you for shopping at WalMart! Come back soon!"

No way, Buddy. Not for a long time.