First off… at my Wal-Mart in East Stroudsburg, there are literally 200 spots reserved for the handicapped. I mean COME ON!!!!! Do you really expect to do business with 200 gimps at once? Is it really necessary? 20 is more than enough (Unless you’re expecting Jerry Lewis to host a marathon there or something).
Something at Wulfgar’s touched on a subject very near and dear to my heart… Parking Lot Vultures. People who want your parking spot so bad that they are willing to risk life and limb to get it (even run over a poor defenseless puppy.)
I hate them!!! I hate them with a passion that I reserve only for Jethro Tull fans!!!!!
Fie upon these foul creatures… better yet, Downs Syndrome upon all their descendants!!!!
Have you ever walked in a parking lot and have these predatory bastards slowly creeping up behind you? AS YOU’RE WALKING!?!!??!
I get smart. I walk up the wrong aisle, and zip between the cars to get mine and peel out.
One day they’re gonna do it to the wrong person. He’s gonna get angry… and, and…
OH NO!!! HE BECOMES THE HULK!!!!!
He’s gonna pick up a Hummer and smack you with it!!!! Yeah!!!! And you’re gonna fly, and end up in a parking lot where there’s a BINGO HALL AND THERE WILL BE HUNDREDS OF OLD LADIES PISSED THAT YOU’RE IN THEIR WAY!!!!!!!!! (Or a handicapped spot where a handicapped person gives you the finger with his good arm. Whichever is worse.)
Yeah…. and when that happens? I’m gonna laugh at you.
Serves you right for listening to Aqualung uhm, I mean being a parking lot vulture… yeah.
P.S.. I HATE YOU!!!!