All I wanted was a Slushy
. But it was raining that day, and water falling from the sky encourages belligerency- at least in this
seemed the logical place to go for said cherry
fulfillment, but once you step through those irritatingly slow automatic doors, nothing is logical
I'd been armed with an umbrella, but the wind managed to aid the rain in sprinkling my body with freezing mist, and I was miffed. After having stepped into the bustling store, I took a few paces and then flung my umbrella down and to my side.
Now I admit, I could have moved the item with a little less jerkiness, but alas I was flustered, and so began the wrath of the greeter- who had unfortunately stepped into the zone of my umbrella flingation. I did not realize she was there, but those greeters have a way of not making themselves known, and the umbrella smacked her squarely upon her right shoulder, spraying rain mist all over her as well.
“I’m sorry,” I said hurriedly with a small smile. But when she turned to me, her face carried no sign of forgiveness. Instead, she delivered an expression of cold, hard steel. Silence seemed to suffuse the air around us. Her upper lip curled ever so slightly, so unusual to see on a 70-year-old woman.
“Aren’t you going to greet me?” I uttered in a small voice, attempting to lighten up the air between us. But she did not find this funny. Flames blazed in the beady eyes beneath her glasses. Her face scrunched in anger.
“We don’t greet bitches in this store!” she spat, her jowls shaking. I immediately arched one eyebrow, shocked by the lack of decorum this greeter had. This was no regular greeter, the kind who simply ignore you every time you walk in, no. This was a Wal-Mart greeter from Hell.
“Excuse me?” I said, flinging my umbrella towards her once again. The damp weapon struck her again on her arm, moistening her White Stag apparel. She grabbed the opposite end of the umbrella and jerked it to the side. The umbrella landed 10 feet away. A deeper silence surrounded us as a handful of people gathered to watch the carnage. The greeter and I kept a steady gaze on each other, moving in a circle one time as we attempted to stare each other down. She hunched over further than she normally was, put out both her hands, and wiggled her fingers with a "come hither" motion.
“Bring it on, miss thang,” she whispered. I didn’t exactly know what to do, since the idea of hitting an elderly woman had never crossed my mind. But she altered my thoughts very quickly when she came at me full force, bulldozing me to the floor. She was incredibly strong for such an elderly woman. Or then again, perhaps I was just weak. I was still shocked, but my anger began to rise. She lifted her leg and stood one faded brown pump on my stomach in a motion of victory. Her long skirt revealed to me her varicose veins up close and personal, the blue tentacles taunting me to me rise. She bent down slightly towards me to speak.
“You’s gonna be the Wal-Mart biotch!” she growled, cackling afterwards. She looked up and gazed proudly at all around her.
People began to cheer for the greeter, but I couldn’t let it end there. I could not allow this demonic senior citizen, this Perry Como-loving wrinkled wench to win.
“You’re goin’ down, homeslice,” I said as she continued to smile in triumph towards onlookers. I swiftly moved my arm to her leg, enough so to get her down on the same level. She yelled, and as I rose I found perhaps 6 other elderly employees walking towards me, the Cocoon Posse. They were snarling. The greeter remained on the ground once I got up, and I prepared to fight the six who were getting close.
“Aww forget it,” exclaimed the woman on the floor. “She ain’t worth it.”
The posse paused, eventually easing back. I stood momentarily, not sure what to do. I doubted I could get my slushy in peace, now.
“Wal-Mart greeter my ass!” I said to her as she rose. I began to back out.
“Screw you,” she replied. “Get lost.” And I laughed as I walked out, finding myself happier than I would have thought, knowing I would never re-enter another Wal-Mart on account of these events. Something always struck me about that place. Must be something in the aprons.
I in no way wish to offend elderly individuals. This is a joke born out of a silly mood.