It is that time of year. I hope that like me you did your Christmas shopping. I did most of mine at a mall located in 1973 (before the liberals shuttered all our malls and put our coal miners out of work).
On Christmas each year I go down to the local Walmart. It is busy with last minute holiday shoppers and most of my friends who gather to read magazines in the Walmart bathrooms (mainly lonely straight white men) are there. They don't have families, and while I have Chester Mann, Agent Mulder, and Chopper they aren't warm like the men who read magazines in the Walmart bathrooms.
I was pushing out a log and reading Field and Stream in the filthiest Walmart bathroom you've ever seen (aside from the one with the calamari) last Christmas with four lonely straight white men. We'd all eaten at this questionable diner, and we were bound up something incredible. It was at the point where each of us took three magazines from the racks into the toilets. We took note of the handwritten sign over the magazine rack that says "You get shit on it you buy it," which is new but comes as a result of my club's actions. I did not found this club. It has existed since the 16th century.
This year I learned that the Utica branch of the read magazines in the Walmart bathrooms club was doing something special. A lot of the guys were conspiring to airlift a ham from the food section directly into the toilets so we could pass it back and forth under the stalls while pushing out this year's king-sized yule logs. I suggested on the message board for the club (on the wall outside the Walmart by the handicapped parking spaces) that we also airlift other items to make it a true feast. Then we could slide the food back and forth to each other.
One of the problems that emerged as a result of this was that seven men were planning to attend, but there are only four stalls in that particular Walmart bathroom. So, we began calling around and looking for a Walmart with a larger capacity men's room. They all seemed about the same, so Tony, one of the Utica club's longest serving members, decided we could dynamite the wall between the men's and women's bathrooms and make them one and the same. This way we would have adequate stalls for our Christmas "party." This was going to be a real celebration.
Tonight we slipped into the store at different times. Tony waited out back at the loading bays and we got him inside with the high explosives he got from the Army depot. We lined it up along the edges of the wall between the two bathrooms and set it off. There was a shower of plastic and concrete, but then we had what we were looking for.
Three store employees came in looking alarmed, but I was able to break all their necks with my triple-grip kill function on my X-Man type hand. As their carcasses were dragged outside by some kind of sloth that came down from the ceiling (quite unexpectedly), we used the remote control drones that Phillippe had set up to airlift our food into the bathroom. Two more employees approached, but Glenn had gotten a propane tank from the store in anticipation of this. We ignited it and rolled it out in front of the employees and took them out along with some of the greeters and maintenance staff. We had time now for our festive holiday meal.
I got one of the center stalls (good deal) and I had control of the ham first. I slid it to Glenn, who slid me back mashed potatoes and some raw carrots (which I did not select). It was some good eating, just the potatoes and the ham. It was well-prepared, as are all of Walmart's foods. It really is a good place to shop and spend all your money. I'd like to see you in there more often. I'd like to see you blow your whole check in there like I blow my whole load whenever I do laundry away from home.
There was cornbread and catfish, which Peter said would be a good idea. I was uncertain as it smelled like ass and was covered in sawdust. I suspected the drone had dropped it mid-flight and was concealing this harsh truth from us, the diners.
A break was taken before dessert and beers. I got some instant pudding and a Miller. It was a good cap to the meal.
There was a present exchange afterwards, but I hadn't gone shopping for anything. Presents were slid across the floor, under the stalls, as the food had been. I came up with the bright idea of cross of names on the "from" line and write mine instead. That way people would think I bought them a gift. After all, I want to get a fresh copy of Ebony when I go to Walmart to read, not one that has shit on it. Then I would have to (1) Smell it, (2) Touch it, (3) Buy it (due to policy).
It truly is the most wonderful time of the year.