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  Humor stories > Funny stories : Someone at Walmart hates me

Someone at Walmart hates me

Funny stories Rating : 2.70, 17 votes. Reviews : 0 [add review]
On weekends while my wife is away at work I get grocery shopping done at your average grocery store chains, but always have to go Wal-mart to finish getting what would be lacking on the shopping list. Jordan and I usually go to Wal-mart, because, Barrett, my older son hates to go with me because he says I take too long. I simply reply to him that i’m just looking for the best deal. Yes, I do realize I sometimes lose track of time and stay to the point the kids are whining and crying saying I just want to go home. Well, a deal is a deal and I can’t stop looking for something that could help save a buck.
On one Saturday, Jordan and I head off to Wally-world, if you have not heard this, it means Wal-mart. Jordan usually sits in the shopping cart in the seat generally reserved for young children, but being a push-over of a dad she wanted to sit in the interior of the cart that is reserved for groceries. Well, on this day I didn’t have to get much on the list, just cereal, bread, cooking oil, milk for cereal and buttermilk for cornbread. Jordan who is four years old at the time and is accompanied by her diaper bag for just in moments she might have an accident. The bag usually consist of a change of clothes, baby wipes, a sippy cup with some sort of juice and diapers of course. I normally don’t like to take this bag in, but on this day she had her Nintendo DS and what I believe to be a Dora the explorer game. She usually plays it a little while, gets tired and tells me to hold it. When I am shopping I don’t want to hold onto a video game and so I thought when she gets done playing with it I would just put it into the diaper bag and not worry about it. Inside the store I retrieve a cart and place her and the bag into the back part that the groceries hold and pass the greeter on the way in. “Welcome to Wal-mart.” Said politely by a older grey haired gentleman.
Time goes on, and Jordan is getting tired of her game and hands it to me. I simply tuck it away into her bag and keep going. I make my rounds about the store and retrieve the items I intended to come to the store for. I place the bread in the children’s seat so it will stay I tack hopefully without Jordan crushing it accidentally. In the interior of the cart I place the cereal, cooking oil, milk and buttermilk in such a way Jordan still has room to sit. After getting all the items needed, then it’s time to look for some deals. Now, I have heard that time passes quickly when your having fun, but didn’t think fun was factored into looking for a good deal. That being said, Jordan is not having fun and time is not passing quickly. If a lesson be learned here, it is, keep your four year old child occupied at all times.
Walking around in the home supply isles, I have continued to tell her “don’t kick the groceries, you’re crushing the cereal. Now sit up and be still.” Me getting aggravated and her getting more restless by the moment we start over to the electronics. “Maybe we can find you a Dora the explorer movie.” I’d say something of that nature to get her to calm down and help me look. After looking through the videos I suspected she already had, I got sidetracked with something that caught my eye. I can not quite remember what It was, but that didn’t matter anymore because very soon everything was about to change. Jordan is whining and asking when we can go and I tell her once again, “in just a little bit.” Ignoring what she was doing at the moment started hearing something that sounded like someone taking huge gulps of something to drink. Gulp…Gulp…Gulp…Gulp… I have heard this sound before. It was very similar to taking a gallon jug of water, taking the top off and holding it upside down and pouring out the liquid. Gulp….Gulp…Gulp… Then there it was on the floor pooling up around my feet, a white liquid normally found in recipes and not spilled out on the floor of the entertainment center of Wal-mart. “Jordan, not the milk?” I painfully sounded.
What had happened is Jordan had got quite tired and restless and began to lay on her side and stretch her legs. When she stretched her legs out, her feet pressed the jug of milk until the top exploded. When she discovered what she had done she sit up real quick and managed to turn the milk on its side with the jugs contents discharging out onto the floor. Now, I have never been a person who likes milk. Don’t really know if it’s the taste, the texture or the natural place it comes from. I was never really keen on consuming anything that comes from an utter of an animal, but I have been able to consume any foods that milk or buttermilk was used in during the preparation of. Now, that being said, I don’t know the process of the development of buttermilk, but I do know is I can’t stand the smell of it. No, it was not milk at the base of my feet, it was indeed fowl smelling buttermilk. I jumped and looked into the shopping cart and grabbed the half empty gallon of buttermilk and set it upright in the buggy for the time being. While doing so, I realized not only did half the gallon of buttermilk spilled onto the floor, Jordan was covered jeans to shoes in the putrid liquid. The first instinct I had was to pick her up and leave, but she would be dripping like an ice cream cone in August, so I grabbed the handle of the cart and scrambled away from the buttermilk pool in front of the new release dvds. Slipping and sliding away from the scene with my own footprints getting dryer with every step, I made it into the shoe department where there is normally carpet. The carpeted floor helped conceal my location. Upon arriving in the shoe area I managed to compose myself and access the situation. Jordan was covered in buttermilk and my feet were also covered with the splatters it made as it hit the floor. I thought for a moment and realized I had brought her diaper bag in and thank god for that. In the bag contained an unopened package of baby wipes, and from the look of things I was about to make use of every single one. So started the clean-up, trying not to gag from the smell while wiping down her pants at first then her shoes and any other place it happened to get on her. Then cleaning went to my shoes and I managed to get it all done and have a couple of wipes left, just in case something else went wrong. Now, standing in the shoe department at Wal-mart with a girl that smells of Bulgarian buttermilk and crying out and me holding a handful of buttermilk soaked baby wipes in one hand and holding my nose clamped shut with the other hand I decided to do what any normal father would do. I took my hand from my nose, resisted the urge to puke, opened a nearby shoebox, stuffed all dirty wipes down into next to a pretty good looking pair of shoes, closed the box, picked Jordan up and headed for the door. I never looked back. Needless to say we rode the whole way home with the windows down. I came away from this knowing three things. One. I really do hate the smell of buttermilk. Two. Don’t let your child get too restless while shopping, and Three. Always have some baby wipes.

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