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At a time when most sane people were just rousing themselves from slumber and mist still blanketed the rolling hills, a hundred minivans and ever gas-consuming SUVs of the American middle class formed the foundation for an entire society of automobiles that would find themselves parked in the dutifully clean Walmart parking lot later that day. In but a single half hour, as if they were but simple automatons instinctively migrating to their home away from home, an entire army of soccer moms and elderly couples converged on this particular Walmart located in Carlisle. Some appeared excited at the prospect of nearly lascivious spending of hard earned dollars on the vast array of cheap and admittedly inferior goods. Others merely looked aggravated that they had not thought to leave their high pitched and struggling children at home, and the rest forlornly approached either entrance with an air of apprehension, knowing that their pockets would soon be lighter and the bags on their arms much heavier with the weight of greed and poor taste.

When the parking lot was filled to capacity and those that had arrived far too late were routinely cruising down the innumerable rows of stationary vehicles vainly looking for a place to stop, the sun peeked out briefly from behind the dark clouds, reflected on the hopelessness of humanity, and vanished again to rest up for another day. As if that weren't cause enough to scorn the day, a certain repugnant odor began to sweep through the parking lot, the origin of which has remained a mystery through today. Once enough bravery could be summoned to briskly stride across the crosswalk, the crisp hiss of industrial air conditioners greeted the ears just within the automatic doors.

However, the feeling of welcome was quickly replaced with the indomitable aura of controlled encouragement, sly and subliminal messages such as a glaring blue sign advertising one of a countless “always low prices, always” messages in bold white letters, seducing the figurative sweet teeth of single moms and the fabulously wealthy alike. Immediately, the eye was bombarded with a flurry of low prices and flamboyant images, an intimate orgy of clever marketing, mass production, and hapless beholders. Oh, such enticement would instill infidelity in the heartiest! Each passerby would grow short of breath and weakly legged, their eyes rolling to the heavens in irrepressible ecstasy. Walking past the elderly greeter resulted in a climax of epic proportions, screams of joy and all release from the bondage of suburban life. Were it not for those fortunate enough to have a natural resistance to poor taste and full bank accounts, the others would collapse where they stood, laying contentedly until hunger would force them to crawl into the McDonald's an insurmountable ten feet away.

Once inside, a myriad of possibilities and discoveries lay open to any courageous explorer. Anything and everything except anything worth money was available for a disturbingly low price at Walmart, from all manners of clothing and medical supplies to food and entertainment. However, exploring was a risky practice, as the threat of becoming quite lost was an entirely valid concern of and goal for many children.

Located in the far corner, the entertainment section lay with its paltry selection of DVDs, CDs, and video games geared for children. Gloomy teenagers paced around, waiting for their parents to finish grocery shopping, occasionally glancing at a relatively unremarkable demo playing on the flat panel displays above. No smiles were to be found there amongst the walking dead, vampires forced out of their native habitats in the bowels of their homes. Nearby, wary travelers with bared steel and trembling hands forged through the toy section, hoping against hope that they would be spared an ambush from the excitable and deadly children racing through those aisles. Indeed, the toy section deserved no mention here, except perhaps to say that it was a Hell within Hell itself, where no soul dared venture. To infiltrate that land was to die, unless a particularly charismatic person could convince the vile children that Satan slew Santa and freed his people from the clutches of capitalism.

The most meritorious of all the parts in Walmart was the clothing section. In the women's lingerie, angry female humanoids, often stunted and twisted past all recognition of beautiful humanity, glowered at any male passerby, and men could be found consciously peering elsewhere as they briskly strode past. Yet for all its low prices, Walmart was guilty of false advertising. Women, in fact, could not be bought at Walmart. Asking a woman standing by a prominent promotion if she was on sale as well was apparently just cause for a gibe and a slap, though the more nimble could evade the latter.

Walmart was a word which rolled off the tongue like sweet caramel, a delicious blend of industrialist America and the implacable quality of big business to dominate politics. It was a place of wondrous opportunity where a man can buy a bra without raising an eyebrow. It was the American Dream come into fruition. Yet upon their exodus from the monstrous store, a person could feel the oily sickness of faithlessness at work. As if in the passion of the act, they betrayed their dearest love with a gleam in their eye and a curl in their lip. Walmart was a nightmare come true, the foreshadowing of an apocalypse. May God save them all.