The House that Breeds Hate

Ain't it a Glorious day? All was right in the world, birds singing, sky is blue, wind was blowing, I had a a good day at work and I was actually nice to old people and small animals until I went to Wal-Mart. Let me put you in my shoes for this adventure.
At first you are thinking about shopping for the stuff you need and the only place to get that stuff is Wal-Mart. It's generally cheap, you can probably find it cheaper but you also need a jug of milk, fishing line, Moosehead, a box of crayons for the kids, and a pack of scibbies and driving all over the city would be much to expensive and time consuming. Wal-Mart = Convenience = Bullshit. Do the math. Anyway, the parking sucks because it's all backed up because some lazy dumbass wants to wait for the dude whose putting his recently bought shit in his car which happens to be close to the store front. You bite the bullet take the long walk to the store and then you are encountered by the super-Christian that wants to pray with you in middle of the fuckin' parking lot because you look like a super-heathen or you look like you can spare a few bucks, whatever. Next you grab a cart, the only one left and the damned thing has a busted wheel and a used diaper in it. Finally you get one, and it looks clean but it shakes and pulls to the right. Screw it, it's going to have to do. You look over at the cashiers, all clear, this should not take long. You reach into your pocket for your list..................................you forgot the list. At this point, you're cussing out loud and you flip-off a little kid who seems to find you amusing. It takes you 2 full hours to find all the stuff you thought you needed so much...now all your cart contains just a 30 pack of cheap yellow beer and the pack of scibbies because after this experience, that's really all you need. You're almost done. You get up to the front of the store to check out along with everybody else....and you happened to be behind a big fat lady with all her screaming kids and she's wearing the old lady perfume, y'know the rose smellin' kind, and she wants to pay with a fuckin' check. A CHECK! Now you are out of the store. All you want to do is drive home and veg with the fam. But no, there is a big redneck truck parked 12 inches from your car door. There is no justice. So you put everything in and you just want to key the insensitive prick's glossy finish and the dude comes back before you can exact the justice you so deserve. He gets in his truck and he just sits there....talking on his cell phone. Ok, you have no choice, you then halfway climb over your gear shift and then the asshole now decides to leave. You get out and get to the driver's side door and the super-Christian is back. All you can do is sneer and tell him to fuck off or you'll send him to Jesus sooner than he wants to. You get in and then you find out that you are low on gas and there's gum on your shoes and your awsome day now sucks. Can you relate? There should be a counseling center for Wal-Mart customers or at least a bar and strip-club.