my day basically went like this

It was after school, and after lacrosse practice. I needed Scotch tape. I went to the Wal-Mart down the road to procure some. Little did I know that this would become a battle with my own sanity before I left. Now, I can’t say that I’ve been shopping for Scotch tape in recent memory, so I wasn’t exactly sure where to find it. My best guess placed me in the aisle with all of the household cleaning supplies. No go. So I went an aisle over to find some immigrant worker stocking paper towels. Clearly, this guy would know where to find the Scotch tape. Or, at least, that’s what I thought at first.
"Excuse me, Sir? I’m looking for Scotch tape," I say.
The man looks up from his work, standing up to a good three and a half feet tall. Apparently, this particular Wal-Mart was looking to meet its Oompa Loompa quota. " Scotch tape?" he asks?
"Yeah, Scotch tape."
He stares at me blankly for a few seconds. "Spray?" he confusedly replies.
Oh, Jesus. This was a mistake. "No, it’s not a spray."
So, Oompy Boy takes me back to the aisle I was just in, points into it, and declares "Spray." Then, he walks off. And so we have strike one. I set off again to locate somebody that both worked there AND spoke English, a task that would prove nigh-impossible. I eventually run into this old lady dragging a cart of boxes around. I ask her where the Scotch tape is. She replies that it’s either in the aisle I was just in, or in the aisle with the carpet cleaners. Well, I was just in the aisle I was just in, and couldn’t find the Scotch tape even with the assistance of a little orange man. I relayed this information to the lady.
She took me back to the aisle I was just in, anyways. I hate people.
As soon as the lady realized that there was not, in fact, any Scotch tape in this aisle, I was pointed in the direction of carpet cleaners about halfway across the store. I embarked on my journey at once. I soon arrived, but alas, no Scotch tape. The carpet cleaners section contained, amazingly enough, only carpet cleaners. Apparently not having suffered enough from my previous two encounters, I again set out to seek the assistance of a salesperson. Each attempt proved increasingly difficult, as salespeople at this particular Wal-Mart were about as elusive as naked women at the Neverland Ranch. I had made it all the way to pool supplies before I managed to catch up to one unable to scurry away from me before I could plead for help, possibly because her fat ass seemed to weigh in excess of a metric ton. I ask her where I can find some Scotch tape.
" Scotch tape?" she asks.
Oh, Jesus. Here we go again. "Yeah, Scotch tape."
"Check the cleaning supplies aisle over in groceries," she suggests.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to fly. I politely inform her that her suggested avenue had already been explored, and that she had best provide a more suitable answer before I buried my foot deep inside of her size-52 ass.
"Umm… hardware?" she says. This was not a more suitable answer. My reply, though nonverbal, seemed to convey my feelings on the subject. Long live the power of the facepalm!
So, Tubby walks me over to another sales assistant, who she then proceeds to ask, "Yo Quiero Scotch tape?"
The other associate turns to look at her and then, in perfect English, replies, "what’s Scotch tape?"
Oh, God. Butterball spent a few seconds trying to explain it to her before finally turning to me and again pointing me in the direction of hardware. Eager to be away from the hungry clutches of a hideous beast likely to eat me at her next feeding time, I left for hardware.
Upon entering hardware, I encounter a Hispanic lady that strongly resembled Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue, only with more tattoos and considerably less attractive. I asked her where I may procure so Scotch tape and was pointed towards automotives. Fine. Automotives sounded like a better idea than hardware, so I went to go check it out. Alas, still no Scotch tape. So, I head back to the hardware whore and demand that I be shown to the Scotch tape in automotive. She complies, and I back off to automotives with the bassist from Motley Crue in tow. She searches for a little while, but is unable to find the object of my desire. Another sales rep, who was apparently lord and master of the automotive section appeared and was flagged down for help by the bitch from hardware. After presented with the situation, the Queen of Automotive Land formally declared that Scotch tape had been discontinued.
Right. Scotch tape has been discontinued. And I’m the king of fucking Spain.
The Automotive Mistress begins a long speech about how unpopular products are discontinued after awhile and I will have nothing of it. I cut her off and ask if they have any of a product just like Scotch tape. I am taken and dragged deep into the bowels of automotives in search of this mysterious substitute. Automotives Whore points me towards some leather polish. Way to go. I t

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