I've been babysitting my grandson, (the Master of Destruction), the past week, and I've decided that I am too old to babysit everyday. I'll tell you asshats why.
It started last night, with my daughter asking if I could take her car to the new Wal-Mart today and get a new tire put on. I was drunk, so of course I said yes.
Now, the Master of Destruction is 18 months old, and fate has fucking conspired against me regarding his teeth. His molars have started to erupt all at the same goddamn time, so he is a fussy, whiney, drooling carnivore. He gnaws on everything, including fingers that try and rub numbing gel on the offending area.
I finally gave the hell up and just started giving him the fucking gel, still in the box. His eyes light up and he snatches that shit out of my hand like the worlds smallest fucking junkie. He gnaws his way through the box and finally finds some of the numbing cherry goodness. Fuck you people, don't judge me. It is good for 4 minutes of peace and fucking quiet.
So, I took the MoD, and we took her car in. We entered through the auto section, and everything was fine so far. I gave my keys to Misty, the friendly Wal-Mart worker, and she handed me a slip of paper. The hell? Is this like a fucking coat check?
Misty told me that the slip of paper could be scanned at any price checker in the store. If the car was ready, the display would say so. How fucking cool is that! I was fascinated, but then again, I don't get out much.
I needed a few things, so the MoD I went to do some shopping with my magical piece of paper tightly clutched in my fist. I couldn’t wait to try it. Fuck you, I said I don't get out much.
We were in the electronics de[artment when I couldn’t fucking stand it any longer. I had to try the piece of paper. So what if it had only been 5 fucking minutes.
I put the MoD in the middle of the aisle so he couldn’t reach anything on either side, and I turned to the scanner. I waved my piece of paper underneath it and waited for the beep. Nothing. I tried again. Still fucking nothing. After the tenth goddamn pass, I decided to inspect the machine.
I leaned over and looked into the top. A red fucking laser hit my eye and I was temporarily blinded. I’m sure that my brain is one big goddamn tumor now and it’s all my fault. I carefully re-positioned my head to keep from having my brains seared out by the fucking laser beam , and I hear a huge crash behind me. Oh fuck me.
I turn around and my grandson has disappeared. In his place is a grinning fucking demon who has dislocated it’s own shoulder to reach a goddamn video display. There are movies all over the fucking floor and the demon is clapping it’s hands in extacy.
I leave the tumor machine and move toward the cart. The demon and I come face to face and I tell it that if it does one more goddamn thing to piss me off, I will drop it off at the zoo. It clamps its mouth down on the handle of the shopping cart and begins to gnaw. I consider this a comprimise. After I pick the motherfucking movies up, we continue our shopping.
I had promised the MoD a toy for something earlier in the week (read: bribed him to shut up, shut up, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT’S BEERALICIOUS, SAVE MY SANITY AND SHUT THE HELL UP, ALREADY) so off we went to the toy aisle. Of all the toys there, the demon insisted on a cheap blue toy cell phone. It chirped and warbled a few moronic phrases and the MoD seemed happy.
I tried the paper again at a scanner in the toy aisle and this time it beeped, but nothing showed up on the goddamn screen. I muttered, “Son of a bitch.” The demon giggled behind me and squealed, “Sombish! Sombishhhhh! Sombish!!!!!” I threatened to take the fucking toy away and it went back to gnawing on the handle and clutching the new toy.
By the time we reached the shit I actually needed, I was frustrated as hell. I had tried 4 goddamn scanners and none of them would work. It became like a motherfucking mission and may have even bordered on obsession.
We were in the toilet paper aisle. With a crazed look in my eye, I slowly waved the now sweaty and wrinkled strip of paper under the scanner. It made noise! The screen told me to wait….then…fucking...nothing. After doing this a million times, I was getting pissed off.
How dare those dickweeds give me false hope? Were they all sitting around the motherfucking security cameras, laughing their ass off at me? I was muttering, swearing, and even pleading with the goddamn machine. People were backing out of the aisle and going on to the next one. Why? Because the machine was in between two particularly fluffy displays of toilet paper and it looked like I was standing there talking to the goddamn Charmin.
The goddamn numbing gel was wearing off and the MoD started to scream up! and cry. I had had enough. It had been an hour and a half and we were at motherfucking Defcon 4 with the MoD. I went back to Misty and shoved the paper under her fucking nose.
“This doesn’t work. That is mean. Just fucking mean.” She checks on my car and tells me that it will be another half an hour. I point the the child in the basket who is now covered in snot and tears and bent into a position that is physically im-fucking-possible.
“Do you see that, Misty? You originally told me thirty fucking minutes. It’s been three times that long. I would have never, I repeat, NEVER, agreed to try to spend two hours in Wal-Mart with a teething goddamn toddler in tow. Does that look normal to you? (Pointing to the demon contortionist in the cart) Yeah, me, either. Another half an hour and he will take over, Misty. You don’t want that, do you?”
“Look, Misty. Please. Help. Me.” I push the cart into the waiting area and mush my face against the window. The teething demon is in the basket behind me speaking in motherfucking tongues.
Misty goes out and talks to some tire guy while pointing at me. He turns and looks at me. There is no doubt in my mind, that he was a guy with small children. He had my car ready in under ten minutes.
As for another trip to Wal-mart with a cranky toddler? I would rather be anally raped by Diana Ross wearing a strap-on while she sings “Ease on Down The Road”.
I need a goddamn drink.