Based on my tweets from last Saturday night/Sunday morning, most hashtagged #WalMartTales:
So I went to WalMart at 11:00 p.m. Do not judge me.
I needed a shovel.
So, I pick up my shovel, my paper towels, and my dog food and head to the register, there’s a customer ahead of me and he’s got just one item:
A box of what must be 50 Trojan Magnum condoms.
When I see something or somebody like this out in the world, I immediately must have some kind of backstory, some kind of explanation.
I can’t just ask a stranger, “50 condoms? For real?”.
So I have to fill in the blanks on my own, using only what I can gather from the 45 seconds we’ve spent in line together.
And while I hate to judge a book by it’s cover, this gent didn’t look super-sexually active. So I have to put my thinking cap hat on.
(At this point, I’m also trying to do the math in my head as to how much time in his life this guy would spend just putting on those 50 rubbers.)
So first I’m thinking he’s on some kind of scavenger hunt, but no. Not enough items, probably.
Second idea: He’s pledging a frat. But it’s summer, so no.
Third option, and the one I settled on: He’s just moved into a house or apartment or dorm with like, 5 other dudes and he was just crazy optimistic for all of them.
The epilogue to Walmart Tales:
It’s my turn to checkout after Captain Safe-Sex walks off. Cashier asks, “How are you doing tonight?”
"Not as good as that guy,” I replied. She agreed.
And then she rang up my shovel and my paper towels. At 11:30 at night. “What, you hiding a body?”
She clearly didn’t have as much time as I did to make some shit up, so she just had to ask. Maybe I’ll be so bold next time.