Mongoloidism (the story went) is a defect in which the child of caucasoid parents atavistically expresses the traits of a previous, less advanced stage of human evolution—the mongoloid stage. The mongoloid child, as a throwback to a more primitive type of human, is mentally deficient.
Does that sound like some of the people that work at Wal-Mart to you? Let me tell you a little story that I am not too proud of myself to disclose, but I feel like I need a place to rant about these "things" that work at my local Wal-Marts. First off, I had a very important meeting to get to on Tuesday morning. I got in my truck and it was dead. Poor Amy had to come pick me up and let me use her car. So we get home, that evening and take the battery out of my truck and head to the great land known as White Settlement. My reasoning for going there was we had two stops to make and that one was the closet. Yes there are hillbillies there, and other assortments of the living dead, but having had luck there before, I was sure it would be fine. I mean Amy was born in White Settlement. ( I may need to do some more investigating there...) Keep in mind that we are both dog sick. I am hacking up all sorts of goodness and my temper is short. Also I am attempting to get back home by 7:30 for the Mavs ass whipping of the LA Laker. I mean Lakers. (Another story.)
So we go in, and as usual there is no one to help you in automotive. Then this scraggly Flo-esque chick with no teeth to speak of emerges from the depths of Wal-Marts corridors. Amy had already looked up the number and it had an F next to the number. There were several next to it with he correct number but not an F in the number. So we ask Wal Mart mongoloid employee number one. Frustrated that she actually has to help us she shifts her toothless carcass over to us and we ask her about the F being in the number. And she replies, "It don't make no difference, it's the same battery." We say, are you sure, cause it says in this book here that it is the F270, not the 270. She says again, "it don't make no difference." So we decide to trust the Mongoloid, and we get the battery. Now, I have been told that with the proliferation of computers that many Mongoloids actually own them now. You would think after about a dozen times or two the grammar checker would tell the Mongoloid that "It don't make no difference" is incorrect. But again we trust the Mongoloid. So we get home, eat our Wendys that was right next to the Wal-Mart and the game has just begun. How perfect I had thought. We got our errands run and are now eating right before tip-off. Perfect. Amy, having serious doubts of the Mongoloid's advice goes in the garage and puts the new battery in. I follow her and she tells me that the contacts will not reach. Never trust the Mongoloid. So we put the Tivo on pause and proceed to go to the Hulen Wal-Mart.
Now mind you this Wal-Mart is less Mongoloidish, and was Amy's first suggestion to begin with. Since Amy is usually right, I felt good that we could resolve the earlier issue. We walk into automotive with the battery and there is a line with two people in it. We are the 3rd. We check the racks and notice again they do not have this battery. I tell Amy, well maybe we should ask this Wal-Mart guy in automotive to see if they have any in the back. So we wait, And we wait. As we are waiting, I start looking at the Wal Mart employee and begin to notice some Mongoloid-esqe features, Large forehead, popping eyes, etc. but I keep my hopes up that he is just a normal run of the mill fat-ass. The first in line leave and then this European couple all dressed in PINK jumpsuits cut in front of us and make the newly anoited Mongoloid leave his post to go open a car stereo case on the next aisle. he then proceeds to take them in front of us and takes out a car stereo book and slowly turns page after page at a pace so slow that only a Mongoloid would need. Now normally I would blow this off if the Mongoloid had turned to me and said excuse me I'll be with you in just a moment. But there was nothing. Not even eye contact or anything whatsoever.
Amy turns to me and asks me if I want to go. Having not slept much the night before due to illness and coughing strongly I agreed. However something in me at that moment took over. I grabbed the battery and bumped into the Euro-trash pink duo on the way out and turned to the Mongoloid and said, "I'm sick of dealing with Mongoloids and Hillbillies like you." We then proceeded to walk out and get in the car. At this point we were pissed. I pondered the thought if Wal-Mart still sold guns. But that passed. The game was way past half-time. It then dawned on us that there was only one other alternative. Wal-Mart on McCart. The Ultimate Mongoloid Megaplex. It was time for war.
We arrive at the Wal-Mart #3 and go to automotive. Already the mood is dark as a huge truck sits with lightslooming in the parking lot as if they were waiting for a drop off of some type. We go in and there is no one there. Automotive has closed. We go to the battery rack, and we find that mine is not there. Amy panics and goes afoot in the jungle to find help. I do find a more expensive version of my battery. I have had enough. I decide to go for it and get this one. We double check it and it looks good. We go to check out and there is no one there to check us out in Auto. So Amy goes back into the jungle of incompetence and is told that we need to speak with Jamal and quickly leaves Amy. Are we to take some cardboard and yarn and make a big foghorn and say "JAMAL to AUTO"? Amy goes out to the Garage and finds Jamal cleaning up. He tells us that Auto is closed and he can't help us today. But that if we like we can go all the WAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY to the front of the store to Customer service and that they can exchange the battery. Dodging other Mongs, we get up there and AGAIN someone cuts in line in front of us. I was livid and ready to slap some bitches silly at this point. We get up there and the lady says this: "you have to ring that up in Automotive and they closed right now" We stared at her and didn't say a word. We told her Jamal told us to come here, and for some reason she rang it up without a problem. Amazing. In actuality, we could have gone in the back and taken the battery off the shelf and drove away without apying a dime. I don't think Jamal would have cared really as when we left he was having a little domestic dispute with the Mrs Jamal. So we got home, game is in the forth, and yes the battery worked and yes the Laker was defeated. So that was a silver lining to the Horror of the Mongoloids.
If the Mongoloid could read this, I am sorry for calling you that. That was not a cool thing to do. However in retrospect, do not trust The Mongoloid...
