I stopped by Marshall’s earlier today to pick up a couple of t-shirts. What should have taken just a few minutes ended up lasting an eternity due to the ever so thoughtful guy in front of me, who happened to pick the only 3 items in the entire store with no price tags. Their method of solving this perplexing dilemma was to send an elderly retarded lady on a wild goose chase to find the prices. She may have also been blind, and I believe she probably had rickets. It was like being forced to watch an episode of Murder She Wrote. After a few minutes they sent a rescue team of one to find her. It was mid-afternoon at this point and I checked to see how long I had been in the store since I entered somewhere around, I don’t know… 1988. I was hoping they’d give me a discount on my Slippery When Wet and Kid n’ Play t-shirts. Of course there was only one register open, so I was forced to endure this excruciatingly long game of autistic capture the flag in its entirety. While I was waiting, I had the joy of witnessing an apparently motherless child wandering into the adjacent register booth. The off-duty cashier flipped out and yelled at the little mongrel’s now present grandmother because something might fall on the child’s giant head. She said that it was irresponsible because he could get hurt. This kid seriously had the most enormous, indestructible head I’ve ever seen outside of a comic book. They could use his head as a wrecking ball to destroy run down crackhouses used by prostitutes and homeless squatters. If I could glue his head to the front of my car I would enter demolition derbies and become a folk hero. They’d name a brand of jerky after me. I feel bad for whatever poor item happens to fall on this baby monsters cranium. I also feel for the small monster’s mother if she wasn’t fortunate enough to have a c-section. I finally completed my transaction and exited the store only become even more frustrated when I learned that my 8-tracks are now obsolete.