Wal-Wars of Mart

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Summer officially began this week.

The night had a crisp fresh scent to it as pink lighting from the sun reflects off of the pollution as the the longest day of the year draws to an end.

I needed to get some miscellaneous items for myself. It was getting late even though the sun was just setting, so I decided to go to Wal-Mart to pick up what I needed, some minor personal effects, nothing big.

I hope in my car and head off to Wal-Mart, I get to the parking lot only to discover that there isn't a parking place to be found.

Yeah, apparently I'm like the only minority that doesn't do all their shopping including groceries at Wal-Mart. I have to park near the Taco Bell across the street where there are white people who are happy about buying some real authentic Mexican food here in America. I wanted to tell them that if they want to pay me 79 cents I'd be more than happy to take a dump in a tortilla, wrap it up so they could get their burrito with for even a more authentic feeling.

Anyways, as I'm walking over to Wal-Mart I grab a cart. To my dismay one of the front wheels on my shopping cart sticks and makes this weird screeching nose about every 10 steps or so. The only other free shopping cart I see is in the far off distance so I said screw it, I'll just deal with this one.

I make my way to the front of Wal-Mart and I walk up to the automatic opening doors only to get a whiff of an unusual smell. It sorta reminded me of when you go to an apartment complex and the weird people across the way always cook these god-awful meals that smells of greasy Mexicans mixed with spicery Asians, a dash of Pepper, and a pinch of Salt. Pepper is Black people for you idiots out there....and Salt obviously are the White people, there is just a pinch of Salt because the majority of the white people were making a run for the boarder over at Taco Bell. The rest of the salt were the white trash trailer chicks with daisy dukes cutoffs at Wal-Mart that were so crack whorishly skinny it looks like just one leg was protruding from their waist.

As I walk into the mammoth- they- have- everything -in -one -place -so -all -minorities -shop -there - store, there was a greeter standing there.

Only she didn't greet me.

I think the 93 year old blue Wal-Mart apron wearing white lady had croaked because she didn't even move as I passed by her.


My squeaking shopping cart leads me to the little girls clothing section when all of a sudden I turn into a chick that's shopping for her girlfriends first baby shower:

"Oh My God, this is so cute," I say as I hold up a pair of capri pants.

Running across the aisle I pick up a long pink silk nightgown.

"I have to buy this for Curly," I say as I cover my mouth and giggle.

I accidentally ran over the foot of a 6 year old Asian girl to get the last Dora the Explorer t-shirt to go with the new capri pants. The little girl starts crying and I pretend like I didn't see her and say, "Oh I didn't see you there." The mom comes over and starts chirping like a bird in her native tongue and then proceeds to flick the girl in the nose. This prompted the little girl to stop crying while it prompted me to want to start laughing....it took every ounce of strength in me to hold it in and turn away. I start fake coughing to help suppress the laughing. Then I felt bad since I was the one that caused the little Asian girl to get flicked in the nose in the first place.

But then I got over it.

With my shopping cart full of new clothes for Curly Top I head over to the electronic section to shop around. I pick up a Celia Cruz, Queen of Salsa, CD titled "Edición limitada" ..... Limited Edition.

I'm walking down the aisle when all of a sudden I see something in the kids section. I get closer because I can't believe my eyes. I look again and mouth silently, "Mother Fucker."

It's a Scooby-Doo cartoon titled, Monster of Mexico.....why does this piss me off? Hello!!! Look at these 3 titles right here:

Monster of Mexico.
Scooby-Doo and the goofy retarded gang head south of the border to solve the mysterious appearance of the Chupacabra - Mexico's very own Big Foot!


Out in theatres right now is a movie titled, A Day Without A Mexican.
One morning California wakes up to find that one 1/3 of its population has disappeared. The realization that what has disappeared is the very thing that keeps the "California Dream" running - cooks, gardeners, nannies, construction workers, and farmers. That's right...no more Mexicans.


Not to long ago you may remember a movie titled, The Mexican.
A white man tries to transport an ancient gun called The Mexican, believed to carry a curse, (see the underlying message here?) while his white girlfriend pressures him to give up his criminal ways.

Mexicans get shit on all the time. It all started when Mexico sold 50% of America for some guacamole and tortilla chips after the Mexican-American war...I know this because I studied the one paragraph in my US history book in High School on the subject. Since then, it has been all down hill.

These movies just proves my point, there isn't another minority group that would have their nationality in a movie title.

Think about it:

Monster of Iraq
The Fab 5 from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy head East to solve the mysterious appearance of a dictator - Iraq's very own U.S. President.

An Asian Without A Car
One morning California wakes up to find that 2 percent of its population has disappeared. The realization that what has disappeared is the very thing that makes them late every morning for work. That's right...no more Bad Drivers.

The Negro
The story follows a young white man going through the hardships of asking his parents to pay for a Prestigious College intuition so he doesn't have to attend his hometown University.

You will never see any movies like that ever come out of Hollywood.

Never ever, like Michael Jackson's Never Never Ranch ever!

I finally make my way to the cash register completely disgusted. I put all my items on the counter, mainly purchasing a ton of new clothes for Curly Top. I get my check book out and yes Houston, I signed my check with a can of spray paint.

I walk pass the greeter that is still in the same exact position as when I first arrived still not moving and no signs of breathing. As with every other customer of Wal-Mart, I walk out of the store with no smile and unhappy like I just stepped in shit. Damn society putting my fellow brothern Latinos down.

I walk the 1/2 mile with my squeaky cart back to my car fighting my natural Mexican urges to steal hubcaps along the way thus completing the longest day of the year.