Republic of Walmart

There are no Kroger stores around
So no double coupon days
Nor triple
No gas discounts
No Kroger deli
No Kroger store

And I'm not sure why it matters

My groceries from Walmart seem too ghetto
Even when I get a hoity toity brand
Not to mention the horrid GMO's
It fills my belly
Expands my fat cells
Which is ok
Because I noticed they recently increased the maximum size jeans they carry

Groceries from the 'better' store in town
They are one third more expensive
But it's smaller and tidier
More organics are available
And there are far fewer Walmart shoppers
If you know what I mean

The class warfare in this small Northern town
Is plain to see
The lines are drawn
If you feel poor
You go to Walmart
If you feel rich
You go to the other one
Which in turn makes you feel poor
Thereby sending you to Walmart the next time
Which disgusts you
Sending you back to the deluxe muffin tops place once again

Eventually there will be only one store
Which will have little apartments and villas
For all the Walmart shoppers to live
It's the only place we will be able to afford

And in the far off future
In this country called The Republic of Walmart
We will all pledge allegiance to the winking smily face flag
We will die to defend it

All for the love of lower prices

The Road to Dunlapp

It felt like I had needles in my feet
Down on the floorboard of the old Plymouth had to be the coldest part of the car
I'd worn my better boots
But they were no match for the ten below outside temps
The weak sputtering fan of the defroster could barely keep the inside of the windshield clear

My radio started losing the station from the last town I'd passed
A one horse type of affair
With a shuttered post office
The only lights I'd seen on had been the gas station I'd filled up at
Finding that the car was only getting eleven miles per gallon
Had only added to my bad mood

I grasped the chromed plastic knob with the black center
Turning it slowly through the whining static
Until I heard something like music
It was christian radio
So I kept searching
But that was the only thing that came in

So it was to the classic strains of "My God is a Rocking God"
That I rolled past the Welcome to Dunlapp sign
Which proclaimed them to be the 1994 State Spelling Bee runners up

Good for them I thought

Fresh snow covered streets greeted my headlights as I turned off the main road
Vort Street
Now that's a helluva name
I was looking for house number fifty three B

About halfway down the street there it was
Looking perfectly ordinary
This place that Craigslist had sent me

I kind of half wanted to turn around
Was this going to be one of those urban legend stories?
Where I walk through the door
And the next thing I know I wake up in a tub full of ice missing a kidney?

Who can say

But this guy advertised a time machine for three hundred bucks

That's why I'm here

Ol' Wifeliss

I worked the engraving knife carefully
It was just a hobby for me
But I took pride in it
Nothing I ever did turned out as nice as the Colt engraving shop
But it was far better than a two year old's work
Take that as you will

The brand new cast iron frying pan weighted down my lap
A reassuring press down
Pressing down my emotions
Providing me a center of focus

My knife slowly worked a "W" into the metal
In classic Old English style
Moving on to an "I"
Then an "F"

My wife sat on the other side of the coffee table
To my left
Past the ugly dark wood turned lamp
With the tape patched shade
A pink box of Kleenex
Dozens of used tissues collected around it
An apple core
Browned
A red solo cup of wine
Trashy

Both of us facing the old RCA console color television
Kept alive by prayer to Baal
Some judicious repair work
And a government rebate provided digital converter box

Local programming wasn't anything special
But at least it gave me a break from HER

Steady hands worked an "E" into the virgin metal

One ham hand brushing greasy black hair out if her beady blue eyes
My wife kept talking
I tuned in for a second just to see what she was saying
She needed a grunt if assertion now and again
It made her think I was paying attention
Kept some arguments from happening

".....and the dentist says Joey's braces can be paid for on a payment plan
Which is pretty good
We could have them paid off in a year
Then Suzanne can get her braces
Which she really needs in my opinion
It might help us win some pageants
She hasn't been finishing higher than fourth all year
And I think it's because of her teeth you know....."

I grunt an affirmative
Because what else am I supposed to do

The letter "L" forms itself under my fingers

Just then Steve and Bobby tumble into the room
A whirl of dirt and motion
Like something out of a Warner Brothers cartoon
Bobby is dripping blood from his nose
Further staining the already ruined ten years ago office beige carpeting

Steve was yelling about his little brother
"Bobby started it!!
I didn't mean to hit him with the stick
It was his fault!"

A letter "I" took shape on the pan

Bobby for his part was crying uncontrollably
Adding tears and drool to the already copious amounts of fluid
Dripping from his face to the carpet
Making abstract shapes on the carpet

I nodded over at the wife
Who was sitting slack jawed now
Dried lasagna sauce from dinner collected in the corner of her mouth
Something stuck in between her top center teeth
Half trying to peer past them at her television show
Half pretending to be concerned about Bobby

"Talk to your mother"
I couldn't be bothered
I was now making a pretty letter "S"

Bobby ran and smashed his messy face into his mothers breast
Wrecking further her food stained T-shirt

From the next room
Baby Alex started crying
Having been woken from his nap

I let it all happen for a minute
While I finished my last letter
"S" finished off my immediate project

My eyes took in my work for a moment
The word glinting back at me
Shiny against the dull flat cast background

"WIFELISS"

I got up
Set the pan lettering side down on the coffee table
And went to hold baby Alex
Who probably smelled of wee

But at least had other redeeming qualities
One of which being
That he didn't look a bit like my wife

Time Machine For Sale

And this can't be any old namby pamby time machine either

I don't want to have to go in the nude
Because, well, that's just wrong and I won't do it
What was good enough for the Terminator
Just isn't good enough for me

It can't be something that only transports my consciousness
Because, why bother?
It could all just be a mad paoti dream if that's the case
Might as well be some cheesy hollywood movie from the 1980's

No, only the real deal will serve my purpose
A purpose that is painfully simple:
I want to go back
To the point a few minutes before I met my wife ten years ago
I want to sneak up on myself
And clobber myself over the head with a frying pan

Thereby ensuring that I won't meet my then future wife

I'll be home free
No wife
No kids
Just an awesome life

I should probably compose a note of some sort
Instructing myself to stay away from committed relationships
And a vasectomy
Definitely get a vasectomy

Don't want any hungry heirs to have to tend to

Where to find such a creature though?

I walk past the complaining wife
And the squalling squabbling children
Into my man cave
I lock the door behind me

Just me, brown shag carpet, all my books, and my computer
Where Google search is the logical first place to look

"Time Machine For Sale"
<Enter>

Modern Dysfunctional Love

I love thee!
I cry out in wretched ecstasy
Tortured by my muses
Which is shown by heart shaped bruises
My heart pumps out it's love juices

For you
As you know
Because I say

If you do deny me
I will suicide me
And you shall be left sobbing over my corpse
Wondering what could have been
Though at that point I'll be wondering when
You might feel sorry enough for me
To actually cleave to me
And I can sit up and stop pretending to be dead

Because I'm not stupid
You're just a chick
There are other fish in the sea

And then to prove my point
You run away from me
As if I never mattered
As If our relationship was all in my head
And I was just a creepy stalker standing over your bed
Which was never proven in court
So you have to stop saying it
My lawyer says so

I drop som acid to break my rhythm
Creating a new brain partition
From which I can boot a new love
For the next chick that happens along
But in so doing
I'm starting from scratch once again
Any lessons I learned from chasing after you
Will just have to be learned again
Becoming an endless circle of idiocy

You said people like me shouldn't breed
And maybe that's true
But a man has his needs
And at the time I needed you
Now I've forgotten your name
Moved on to new game

It's called internet porn
Stand back as I spill my man goo

Frying Pan Solution

The black cast iron frying pan feels heavy
And I know that it IS heavy
There are a couple dent's in my wood flooring to prove it

All the caked on crap from yesterdays omelette is slowly coming off
But not easily
Not happily
But then again that might just be me
Projecting my feelings onto a goddamned frying pan mess

You see
I couldn't stand her anymore

I used to love her
But I had to kill her
Just doesn't quite cover it
Mostly because I'm not dumb enough to do that

Besides
I don't really want to kill her
I don't hate her
I just don't want to be with her anymore
And I don't see any way out of it

Six kid's worth of child support would be no fun at all
Not to mention alimony
And the fact that I'd lose everything
Everything that means nothing really

I'm a coward anyways
I'd never have the guts to leave her
I just wish there was a way to change the past
To make it so that I never would have married her
To make it so that I could continue to be happy

And I was totally happy
I remember that
Just me and my two dogs

I even thought I was happy when I first met her a decade ago
The first year was awesome
It was disgusting in a "You complete me" kind of way

Fuck!

I always do this
I roll things over and over in my head
Never coming to a solution

The pan is finally clean

Setting it on the edge of the countertop
I grab for the towel
And I bump it
Sending it falling onto my foot

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
I hop to the couch in rhythm to my repeated cursing
Plopping down onto the broken down cushions
Cradling my throbbing foot
Which didn't seem broken
Just bent

And the heavy black cast iron frying pan sat there
Right on the floor
Still wet
Still heavy

That's when I had the idea
A frying pan solution
If you will
To all of my problems

Now all I needed was a time machine

Transgenderland

Transported to Transgenderland
I was transfixed
As I saw sexy hairless men sporting breasts
Masculine women with beards and strapped down tits

I was absolutely gender bendered
I didn't know what to do
Should I kiss the boys who looked like girls?
Or make out with the chicks who looked like dudes?

My upbringing had not prepared me for this
I felt deranged and overly wary
As if each person I met had a hand grenade in their pocket
Which could go off at the slightest interaction

Then someone bought me a drink
Shared a pizza with me
Told me I was cute

I found myself attracted to them
And only after I felt that
Did I stop for a second
And think about which genitalia they may have

I realized it just didn't matter
And we have a date tomorrow at eight