Wal-Mart is the devil. It sucks. It has everything you could ever need and it's cheaper than anywhere else. It's the only place that you can buy bunk beds, sports bras, and frozen pizza at the same time. But it is truly miserable. It's not worth the trauma, and when I say trauma, I mean the damage done to you. Every time we go to the mega consumerville, my son and daughter get overwhelmed, hungry tired, start teething, start puking and then, of course, tandem screaming. And it's not just the screaming, it's the blood curdling screech that is piped up at the top of their lungs. And the worst part, it is not just my own children. Every parent that schleps their kids in and out of there must suffer the consequences.
 Let's say you need milk, and just milk. Okay then you look for the milk and what the hell? It's all the way, 3 miles to be exact, in the back of the f-ing store. The cruel deviants that design the store, drunk on the money and plight of modern middle America, cackle as they play the 'let's make it painful for mothers hauling their brood'.  As you snake your way through the barrage of fat carts the din begins to consume your mental state, until you realize that the din is coming from the cart and you get a random shoe slapped across the face. Just a little attention grabber. The train of thought has been lost by the screams and appeals for 'Candy! Chips! Ice cream! Crack! Porn! Drugs!' are coming from the little angels possessed by the demons of consumerism.  As they writhe towards the toys intentionally lain out to be grasped by their talons, the pleas triple in decibels.
"Why are we here again? Oh, right, right, I got it."
After waiting 25 minutes in line and looking over every cracked-out celebrity rag out there, you lay it all out for the disgruntled employee, when you tally up the prices it all adds up to about $85.00. Milk of magnesia, milk duds, 5 Milky Ways, cereal,  peanut butter, a stuffed cow, and of course- oh shit, where did it go? I got it right? Where the cock is it? I walked by it! Oh that's right, I was picking up 13 bags of Chips Ahoy! Up off of the ground after the hellion kicked down a kiosk made of something weaker than toilet paper. Then, like a stealth bomb, you cut a swathe to the door until the smiley lil bitch reminded you that you needed to pay. So now I have $85 of crap and milk like type products. Thanks again, Wal-Mart! The one flaw that I see is that you need to keep the booze right next to the fashion rags, so it'll just take a little edge off waiting in that f-ing line.