Thank you, oh Hell beast, devil-
spawned, bastard seed passing for
a grocery store, pantomiming convenience,
for this amazing traffic jam of carts
at 6:00pm on a weekday. For only
employing two barely-competent cashiers
to sporadically disperse among the 15
checkout lanes that may or may not actually
function. For expecting me, and many others
to wait in line to wait
on ourselves in your automated stations
that require supervisory overrides
every three items, in lieu of wading
into the non-moving abyss of silver-wheeled
haulers, now dripping trails of would-be ice
cream in testimony of your failure.
For raising your prices $1.00 before claiming
roll-backs and reducing them 15¢. For being
infuriating and trauma-inducing. For every
son-of-a-bitching, god-damning, mother-fucking
tirade I spew both mentally and verbally. For being
smart enough not to sell automatic weapons.
For keeping your liquor nowhere near the front
of the store. For being unfortunately necessary.
[Insert spitting action here - directed at store
sign]. Thank you.
