The Last Sane Man in Wally World

The Last Sane Man in Wally World

By TLB Contributing Author: Rico S. Giron

I stand in awe of the sheer level of stupidity that I witness at WW. I walked in this morning amid a real pandemic of WW shoppers jostling for baskets like preparations for a wartime attack. I did not see a single other WW shopper without a mask matching my “politically incorrect” Trump bravado. As I walked to the front entrance, the low ranking nazi WW clerk, in a very frightened and concerned manner, as if I was a 14^th century leper walking in naked, oozing whatever lepers ooze. “Sir, sir, you need a mask.” I deliberately ignored the low ranking nazi and went into the store simultaneously grabbing a cart that I knew had not been “disinfected.” When in a war, one must have courage ala Murphy style. Murphy was a WWII veteran that was credited to be the most courageous man in WWII. I know one day, my picture will grace the walls of every WW and Sammy’s Club across the nation in memory of how I defied the Corona-beer-us. My name will be spoken in hushed tones, “Can you believe the balls of the mother-phucker, he refused to wear a mask in the midst of the fake pandemic.”

As I kept walking into the dark depths of WW while ignoring the nazi, I heard her talk into her very high tech walkie talkie, “I am going to call the “Boss.”” I did notice, that even though it was clearly a walkie talkie, she had to stop every time she talked, I think walking and talking at the same time confused her. This is the high quality WW employee that we see in WW. I noticed something else, every time she wanted to talk into the walkie talkie, she had to look for the button to press. It seemed she had a hard time remembering the position of the button from the last time she pressed it.

While in the WW store, I received several different types of “looks.” From several women, a smile underneath their masks, I could tell by their eyes squinting. I could tell what they were thinking, “Finally, a man with cohones, I hate this phucking mask, my breath stinks, I have broken out in pimples, my breasts hurt, I am so sick of this sheer stupidity.” Other women deliberately went out of their way to avoid me and gave me sideways glances, like if I was masturbating in public. They didn’t want to look, but they had to. Like an accident on the side of the highway, every one slows down to witness the carnage. Get it. So …

On the other hand, several men, likewise, junior nazis, would stare at me with a look of, “Who the phuck do you think you are.” Naturally in my bravado, I stared them down until they broke their stare. I highly suspect they were Demo-rats, my state is a blue state. While a few cautiously smiled under their masks, I could tell by an ever so slight squint around their eyes. Secret admirers. I could discern the shape of a thumbs up sign under their masks. Very gratifying indeed. A few I shook hands with, open palm. Of course I had to force the issue. Most of the sheep are still convinced that the corona-beer-us is so SMMMMMaaaart that it can differentiate between a closed fist and an open palm. Again I displayed my “devil may care bravado” by deliberately shaking hands with an open palm. How will this ever end.

I kept expecting the “Boss Man” to show up with several goons to throw me out, but my fear failed to materialize. In preparation for the WW nazi cashier, I told my girlfriend that if I was accosted by the WW nazi forces, I would simply give her money to pay and I would walk out, my bravado unscathed. Much to my chagrin, this did not materialize either.

May the Farce be with you.

Live Long and prosper,

My voice is the Cry from the Wilderness.

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Read more great articles by Rico

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Notice from the Author

Any and all copyright restrictions are hereby lifted by the original author. This article (all parts) may be copied, cited, and reproduced in part or in whole with no restrictions on copyright. Rico S. Giron

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