WALMERICA - GET TO WORK
Walmerica: A Time Travel Adventure into the Corporate Abyss
Wow! Holy damn! I… holy Hell!
I just got back… oh-my-god... O.K., O.K., starting to breathe...
You won't believe this—I hardly believe it myself—but it happened.
The other day, while I was messing around with some coding scripts, I accidentally triggered some kind of event horizon in my bathroom.
Before I could even get my vape I was sucked into the hungry portal, like a cheeseburger on a friday night in downtown Omaha. I got BADLY slimed in the horrible process.
The horrible turbulence knocked me unconscious, and when I came to, I was laying on my back in a large corn field. The corn were all horribly mutated, the size of volkswagons.
I couldn't help but think then, that the only place such things could exist would be in America, and since they didn't exist anywhere that I knew of in the good old U.S of A, this must have been the FUTURE.
I considered for a moment if smoking mutated corn husks would releve one's anxiety, but the thought passed as the brutal sun above was now cooking me with vigor, and a sudden panic rose up inside as I made my way quickly now, through the corn, pushing my way through, cursing all the way.
I finally emerged from the field to a dirt embankment, that I ascended with terrible strain.
Had it gotten hotter?
At the top of the embankment a highway of about 19 lanes stretched across like some final, bonus level of Frogger never even considered for implication.
Walking down the left side of the road was a long procession of bedraggled and weary looking men and women. They looked like they had been through it, and their skin were more like tough hides, weathered by this inscrutable weather.
Mercifully, an old man finally approached presenting a half-empty (yeah that's right) bottle of water in his hand. He smiled a single toothed smile at me.
Welcome to the United States of Walmart (USW)
When my throat stopped burning from the sudden and violent dehydration, and only barely because the water had been a little shy of boiling, I mustered out the croak: where...what...is this?
The old man gave a half interested shrug, walking away to join what looked like his now unpleased (or maybe always unpleased) wife.
"Yer in
I joined the herd. Some had makeshift umbrellas and hissed at others who came under their soothing canopies. What else could I do, I wondered, when in Rome...
Eventually we came upon a "INFORMATION CENTER" that I assumed to be this place's version of a library.
The old man passed me and pointed towards the building "they got shitters in der." He said proudly, as he went to join the long queue that had formed at its door.
I went into the Information Center. A single crow was perched at the "help desk" pecking at something dead, the former librarian it displaced, I assumed.
I walked around the place. Big and empty and the shelves cleared of everything but rat turds.
Like some miracle, I saw a handful of computer terminals, one that even looked similar to my own.
I sat down and mashed the keys to bring up any news I could. Outside, the rabble had become restless and some loud carnage was taking place. Something about toilet paper.
I hit the home button and was brought to this homepage. I knew I had come to the dark future I had always dreaded.
(ENHANCE!)
The Comment Section from Hell
Employee 738748374-Z: [ASSIGNED ROLE]
Lazy little libs!!! I worked my way up from worker drone to CLASS 8 WHIPMASTER. I now own my own existence CUBE WITH BATHROOM, haha.
Employee 5845748-D: [ASSIGNED ROLE] SCIENTIST PRISONER]
Just a thought here, but perhaps we could get some of the stockpiles of Tylenol for our crippling cancer pains?
!!! MESSAGE INTERCEPTED: YOU ARE A COMMUNIST !!!
MANDATORY SENTENCE: 35 YEARS IN THE SULFUR MINES.
THE GREAT ESCAPE
Before I could do more digging, a bunch of armed goons busted into the room, wielding large clubs. They took one look at me and quickly approached will ill-intent in their eye's.
These guys were terrifying—7-foot-tall genetic anomalies wearing high-vis tactical vests and wielding 'Great Value' shock-batons.
Before they could grab me, I weaseled between the legs of one of the oaf's legs, and out the INFORMATION CENTER'S front doors.
Behind me, in hot pursuit as I sprinted down the highway, sucking in the incinerated air, one of the goon's wailed, either in agony or ectasy: "LOW LOW PRICES" in booming baritone, his voice sounding like a blender full of gravel.
"Initializing
"You will now experience the Wal-Merica App directly in your frontal lobe. Side effects include a sudden desire to work double shifts and a per
My mind started to drift and fill with advertisments, when I heard it. A faint, rhythmic *thump-thump-thump* from the heavens.
Suddenly the portal had returned, and before the goon could react I slipped his meaty hooks, and darted off into my exit, which spat me back into my apartment, a little harder than I would have enjoyed.
I looked at my computer to see my cat, Fuzz Aldrin, was sitting perched on my keyboard. Licking his paws. He must of fixed the HTML I thought.
I was home, back in the present, and outside, the rain battered my window. I slumped into the couch and turned on the t.v.
Like it or Lump it, I said to my cat, who seemed at that moment, to nod in agreement.
Employee 4958587-D: [ASSIGNED ROLE] SULFUR MINER]
Hope all the libs have to work in the sulfur mines. Sam Walton earned every penny! Support The Walmart Marines!