Dear Screaming Troll-Child,
Your ear-splitting cries of petulance are grating against my temporal lobe. You have been (loudly) voicing your displeasure for about fifteen minutes now, seemingly without pausing for breath. I wonder if this is a talent that is particular to you, or one that is merely particular to all screaming troll-children. (Time will tell.) And even though I have no desire to be in Wal-Mart either, I do not choose to scream out my hatred at top volume.
I wonder exactly what it is that has caused you to so violently project your negative opinion of this shopping establishment. Is it the horrible fluorescent lighting that makes everyone look about ten years older? Is it the apathy of every salesperson who so listlessly drags your merchandise across the price scanner? Is it the omnipresence of sad hillbillies wandering aimlessly up and down the discount aisles? No? You want a Batman action figure and your mother has told you no?
Well I guess that’s just too fucking bad for you. Kindly shut up before I snatch you out of your mother’s grasp and smack the living hell out of you. You’re giving me a goddamn headache.
Fucking kids.
With love,
Heinous Bitch
2 years ago • Notes