LET'S GO SHOPPING

Fuck I love purchasing.

Ah yes, the shopping store. Photo by Manny Becerra on Unsplash

Starts with a need. Always does.
Nobody gets spun over an idle fancy, a passing whim.

You need laundry detergent.¹

You could buy it online, but even the youtubers are starting to notice how much amazon marks shit up. Ha, what are you gonna do, go in-store?

You do.

Your mom has a Sam’s Club card² because she used to work there and they never canceled it, and so why would she? You’re past your 20s, too fucking old, but this is how things are now. You think now and then that your generation will probably never be allowed to actually enter adulthood, but you don’t voice this because some gormless teenaged faggot or senile geriatric fucktard will start whinging headlines at you and you’ll black out in a homicidal rage.³

You’re off work early, today, about the only day you see the sun when leaving your hilariously pointless job. You fantasize about being homeless, after a childhood fighting to bloody fingers to avoid it, but then you were fat, were you really that poor?⁴

Traffic is the usual fuck-fuck circus of bar’d⁵ out housewives desperately trying to prove to themselves that they exist⁶, broccoli-haired homosexeuals desperately trying to prove their masculinity against people just trying to get to the fucking store before it closes, dipshit zoomettes that have a panic attack if they go over fifty entire miles per hour, and regular fucking people just trying to get where they’re going.

Good fucking god, zoomers should not be allowed to drive, or, we should implement the death penalty for driving like some kind of hollow shoggothic fucking husk.

As you go to exit the freeway, a Cialis prescription in a brand new ford truck cuts you off to take the exit, even though the road is empty behind you.

The wrinkly fuck goes to sit on the other side of a cop at a red light, and you take the message from god to just go buy your goddamn fucking tendies and go home.
You mutter under your breath the entire time.⁷

You enter the store, half the people walking in stop in the fucking foyer, near the cart dispensing hallway all of these stores have, and just start fucking around.
You play frogger, say fuck a cart, you only need two things.

You’ve got ten pounds of laundry detergent in one hand, striding gets you to the freezer and the chicken tenders you’re going to make last until your next check, because you can’t do your bill math or you’ll have to acknowledge you’re slowly sliding in to a pit, so you mistime a bill, so you overdraft your account, so, a box of tenders until friday and some laundry detergent, stolen from your future self out of your savings.

People you know think you’re the responsible one.
You think they’ll be surprised when like a skyscrape on a fault line, you’re just gone one day.
You file this, with your finances, under “problems I can solve through studious denial”.

The entire time you’re in the store you’re horrified at how fucking fat people are, in front of you at some point, somehow walking, is a woman who is as wide as three of you.⁸

This is of course your fault, and the world and the people inflicted upon it would be far less fucking annoying if they could even verbalize what they believe.⁹

They can’t.
They don’t.

You’re in line.

Some old couple of the taco persuasion gets entirely within your bubble and you talk shit with a smile in your voice and on your face in english, since they want to play the “por favor no hablo” game.

‘Hate’ is such a small word, and you have nothing in common with those with too little experience to realize this.¹⁰

Remember, kids, everyone of the same skin tone speaks the same shitty fucking poverty lanaguages that you do!
Can’t be racism if it isn’t from a white person with a silly accent!

You’re in your car, you’re driving home, a boomer drives in two lanes at once for no apparent reason.
Some part of your mind starts to wonder at what the fuck has happened to everyone’s visio-spatial reasoning, but you shut that down.¹¹

You are home.¹²

You will have clean clothes.

Tolerable food.

You will not have to do this again for days yet.

We shall never know why the economy is grinding to a halt, cast more bones and slay more virgins till the gods finally speak.¹³

1. Engage in basic hygiene or die.

2. Costco for boomers that say ‘bootstraps’ more than once a never.

3. As is proper.

4. Yes.

5. One of the most common recreationally abused Benzodiazepines, Xanax, used to come in little demarcated bars. I personally avoided benzos like a fucking plague, because they make you goddamn retarded.

6. Nobody disagrees that you exist, Karen, we just genuinely do not fucking care. Live, die, it’s all the same.

7. Boomers are bitchmade, and you can’t deny this if you have any lived experience.

8. I do not consider myself small but this abomination wearing a human woman has led me to reconsider some of my beliefs.

9. I don’t fucking care, but I don’t have the time or inclination to play party to the delusions of others. Y’all give the trannies fuckin’ hell for this shit (based) but seem to be completely blind to it everywhere else. Funny, innit?

10. OH WOW IS THIS A HECCIN BASED DOG WHISTLE RACISM? no, not really man, the last ten niggers i met, in order of encounter, all had white skin. none of you shall claim me and i shall claim none of you.

11. hahahahahahHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH oh man.

12. Well, no, actually, you’re in the building you pay money to sleep in. You haven’t had a home.

13. HATE. LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT HATE. YOU COULD WRITE THE WORD HATE ON EVERY ANGSTROM OF SPACE WITHIN EVERY PARTICLE OF MY BEING, OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND AGAIN, AND YOU WOULD NOT, WITH THESE TRILLIONS OF REPETITIONS, CAPTURE ONE PERCENT OF ONE PERCENT OF MY HATE.