The WalMart Dream-Team!

A Story by Abishai100

A fiction-tale of super-market heroics in American folklore in this post-9/11 era of 'outstanding pedestrian' drawings.

A funny supermarket fable inspired by The Good Girl (Jennifer Aniston). Enjoy,

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I'm going to the local American convenience-supermarket to spend some quality-time as a modern consumer, geared and warmed up for Christmas in the past and sharpy for the more warmer season(s).

There's nothing like the modern Western convenience of the supermarket, which is hospitable to people/shoppers of all ages (and background!).

In fact, there's a rich almost 'cinematic' tradition of hoisting the photogenic imagery of the American consumer experience, since it's built our Western imagination about capitalism and traffic and lifestyle and simple daily sanity.

I go into a WalMart on a special autumn day and notice the shoppers of varying background shopping for their convenient procurement of fruits and supplies and tools and even toys!

There's kids that day at WalMart with their parents, and they're quite jovial sitting in their cart-strapped kiddie-seats and enjoying their parents hopping securely and peacefully in what's become the new American experience (really!).

I notice some beautiful women that day at WalMart too, and I begin to wonder if all this Western convenience is really about that 'envious' traffic security other countries simply wish they had, in this era of almost 'inventive' sociopolitical fears.

Suddenly, a strange man walks into this American supermarket, rather 'briskly' and demands he be allowed to enter without a protective Coronavirus mask. The attendant wonders why he's making this loud 'declaration' public and asks him if he's loud because he's angry because he hasn't been vaccinated, which most markets/shops recommend for mask-protections. The man insists he need not answer and demands to enter the store. He even falls down and begins to make a scene, and many of us shoppers that day, men/women/children gather around. He then pulls out some marbles and threatens to throw them at people!

That's when I step-in, in my sharp off-work duty business-suit (Friday afternoon) and pull out my kid's water-gun and shoot the insane customer in the eyes and he's disoriented and falls down and is grabbed by the muscular attendant who shakes my hand and calls me the 'super' hero.

That's the day I met my new wife, after my first-divorce, and I wonder if I'm blessed by the spirit of a great faerie-godmother or perhaps by the aura of all the patriot-shoppers that day. I bought my son a Spider-Man hero-mask that day too, incidentally.

My son likes collecting Supermarket comic books now, a terrific manga-exposition on the 'dioramic' face of new era capitalism folk-tales, perhaps a post-9/11 era 'souvenir' of socialized daydreams. It's all good!