So, I went to the Walmart and just sat in a lawn chair that was on display near the check out lines. So much white trash, it's amazing. Droves and droves of white trash cattle just shuffling by me. Every so often someone would catch my eye as particularly white-trashy and I would just crack the fuck up.
People would stare and I would just say "Come on, look at that fat bitch! She's wearing shorts for christ sake. It's fucking disgusting." Or something like that.
Then theres the people walking by that have that look on their face that just screams "FUCKING KILL ME!" It's usually people with kids. Sometimes it's just a dude with an extra annoying wife or girlfriend and she's dragging him all through the store. Those poor bastards crack me up too.
"What?" Some black guy said to me as he walked passed. I was nearly falling out of my chair giggling my fucking ass off.
"She's not worth it man." I told him, hardly containing my laughter.
"What you say punk?" He asked. Looking like he was really ready to kill someone. His girlfriend was being that much of a bitch.
"What the fuck are you doing at a walmart, anyway?" I asked him, with a giggle. "You're black!" And after that remark, I really did fall out of my chair laughing. I mean seriously. Look around a fucking walmart. It's 99.99999% white.
Just then, his wild girlfriend appeared and punched him in the shoulder. "Stop messing with that poor white boy." She said and dragged the poor bastard away.
I was sad for a second, as I got back in my lounger. I was having fun with that guy. Was hoping he would swing at me or somthing. That would have made for some good fun.
Then, I saw her. The queen of white-trash Walmart. A big fat bitch in one of those Walmart scooters, with two small children. She was screaming at them "No! You can't have any cookies. Gimme those cookies!"
Okay, so kids can't have cookies. But she sure the fuck could have cookies. They were in a line to check out and her kids kept going batshit insane with all the cool stuff lined around the check out counter. Every kind of candy you can imagine, and even little toys and such.
One of her kids brought her a little plastic airplane which was like a dollar and she slapped it out of his hands. "Put that shit away!" She screamed at him. "You have more than enough toys at home." And she slapped his behind.
The boy screamed and started crying. She smacked him again "Shut the hell up, Bradly. Just wait until we get home and I tell your father how bad you've been."
Now this got me going. I swear my mother had used those same words to me just about every time we went anywhere without my dad. It was the standard threat and it almost always worked. Well until I got to about eight years old and became more of a man than my father ever was. But before eight, holy shit.
So, I took a little more interest in this stupid fat cunt. "Hey, leave the kid alone." I said, sitting up in my lounger.
"Mind your own business, asshole." She said to me. She hit Bradly a few more times just to show me she meant business.
I stood up and walked over to her. "Eat my ass, you fat cow." I said, as calmly as I could, just to divert her attention from smacking her kid.
"Oh my god! What did you just say?" She said, a bit shocked.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I said EAT MY MOTHERFUCKING ASS!" I screamed into her face.
One of the best things about Walmart is that nobody there gives a flying fuck. Not the employees. Most of them just want to die. Not the customers. Most of them just want to get their shit and get the fuck out of the soul-sucking store. None of them want to pay attention to anyone screaming or having a fit, because then they might have to spend one more second in fucking Walmart. Fuck that.
So, my altercation with this fat cow went completely unnoticed from those around us. "How dare you!" The fat bitch said, shaking her finger in my general direction. "My kids are here. You watch your mouth, mister."
So, I looked at her little kids and said "See you little fuckers later." Then, walked out of the store. I needed to take that fat bitch somewhere, to beat the living shit out of her. Something told me that beating someone to death might actually get some attention from other patrons and even the Walmart walking-dead staff.
I smoked a cigarette outside the store while I waited for the fat bitch to come rolling out in her Walmart scooter. I saw one of her kids come out first, looking for something. He saw me there and came over. "Thanks, mister." He said, looking up to me with a smile.
"For what?" I asked, without really caring. I was pretty focused on the job at hand, watching for his fat whore mother.
"For standing up to mom. She gets like that all the time and I never know what to do. She just smacks me and I can never do anything about it. So thanks for that."
I smiled, taking myself away from my task for a second. "No problem, little man. I'll take care of her. Trust me."
The boy's mom and sister came out of the store and headed to their car. "Get over here, Bradly! Don't talk to that nasty man." And Bradly ran off to follow his mom to her car.
I watched them load their shit into their car, then got in my truck and rolled up behind them, blocking their car. The fat bitch was screaming something at me, but I wasn't listening, focused on my task. I got my gun out of the glove box, stepped out of my truck and walked over to the fat cow, still sitting in her scooter.
"Get in the truck." I said to her with a firm voice.
"What?!" She exclaimed. "What the hell are you doing? You're blocking my car. Move it now, mister."
I pulled out my .45 and pointed it at her face. "Get in the truck." I said again. "Or don't. Whatever. I guess I can just shoot you here and be done with it. Or you could get in the truck and see where this journey will take you."
Her kids both heard the conversation, and without hesitation, they both bounded up into my truck, waiting with a smile. "Come on, mom!" The girl said.
In silence, the fat bitch finally got up out of her scooter and waddled over to my truck. I opened the back door of the cab and she tried to hop in but was having a bit of trouble getting up into it. So, I gave her a good shove and she was finally in.
"Good." I said, as she fell face first into the back seat of the cab. "Now don't say another word, or I'll shoot you. That's a promise." I saw her open her mouth to say something. "No, seriously. I'll just shoot you in the face and dump you on the pavement right now, if that's what you want." And she shut her goddamn mouth.
I slammed the door in that fat bitch's face and hopped up into the driver seat. "Yer my hero, mister!" Said Bradly.
"Don't call me mister. Call me dude, or man, or dickhead, or whatever, just don't call me mister. Okay?" I said with a bit of an evil grin.
"Okay, dickhead!" He said, with a laugh.
I drove them to an abandoned building that I knew in the area. I got them all out of the truck and walked behind the fat bitch with my .45 at the ready. "Inside." I said and motioned to the door of the building which had always been unlocked for some reason.
We all got inside and I took the fat whore to a chair in the middle of the warehouse. The chair was already covered with blood from a previous kill and the fat bitch looked at it in horror. "Oh my god!" She said in shock, apparently forgetting about our deal. I guess she wanted to get shot.
So, I obliged and shot her in the shoulder. "I told you. One more word and I would shoot you." I said, and she shut her whore mouth and sat down on the bloody seat.
I tied her to the chair and then went to get some more stuff from my truck. "Don't let that bitch go anywhere." I told the kids. They were laughing and playing, throwing garbage at the walls.
"Sure thing, mister... I mean Dickhead!" Said Bradly with a giggle.
I brought back a baseball bat and a ball gag. Put the ball gag in the fat bitch's mouth and secured it around the back of her head. "Now, what should we do with this stupid bitch of a mom you guys got here?" I asked the kids.
"I dunno." Said Bradly.
"Shoot her again!" Said his sister. "Again, again, again!" She chanted.
"You sure you don't want to smack her around a bit with this baseball bat?" I asked. I wouldn't mind shooting the fat whore again and again, but where's the fun in that? Then, she'd be dead in a matter of minutes. I wanted this to last. I wanted the kids to actually learn something.
Bradly spoke up. "I'll take a swing!" He volunteered. I handed him the baseball bat and he took to his mom like a pro, most likely fracturing both her kneecaps.
"Nice job." I told him, and he handed the baseball bat back to me. I looked at his sister, who was giving her mom a very cold stare.
"Can I shoot her?" She asked.
"Oh, alright." I said, and handed her a smaller pistol, a .22 that I had in my back pocket.
She pointed the gun more or less at her mom, and pulled the trigger several times, missing each time. The eyes on the fat bitch got wider and wider and she started a muffled scream from behind the gag.
I was tempted to shoot her again, just for making noise, but I didn't. Instead, I helped the girl shoot her mom with better accuracy. I showed her the sights on the gun and told her how to use it. She pulled the trigger and finally landed a round in her mom's stomach.
"I did it!" She exclaimed with glee.
"You sure did." I said, and took the small pistol from her hand. "Good job. Now, it's time your fat bitch of a mom to die." And I went up to the stupid whore and bashed her head in several times with the baseball bat. She was quite dead after that.
"Now, that's how it's done, children." I said, cold as ice. The kids just stood there, motionless, with their mouths agape, staring at their dead mom. They were just having fun, before. Just joking around. But this was real. Their mom was really fucking dead. Their tiny little brains couldn't quite comprehend it.
So, I left them there, to drink in the reality. Walked out to my truck and drove home.
"Fuck me. I'm never having kids." I said to myself.
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DISCLAIMER: This is fiction, you fucking idiots. It's just a goddamn story.
This blog can also be found at http://killeveryday.wordpress.com/
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