The Fuller Family

THE FAMILY THAT SHOPS TOGETHER….

I seldom shop at a Walmart, but when I do, I use the one down the street.

That said…having lived in a small town for the past ten years, I’ve experienced first hand, that unique, small town phenomenon, more commonly known as “family shopping down south”.

When I say “family shopping”, I don’t mean an ordinary couple wit h a small child. I’m referring to the class of people who think shopping trips to Walmart, are family outings…..to be savored and enjoyed.

You’ve seen them… there… I’m sure….in the stores…. in the aisles…. the whole aisle…not just part of it…. but the whole damn aisle. The whole family is taking up the whole “frigging” aisle. My brother-in-law calls them THE FULLER FAMILY.

Let me introduce you.

Front and foremost,  leading  her clan into the store, would be Mother Fuller.  I first noticed MOTHER because of the commotion at the front of the store, as I was getting my cart.  The whole family, in all their Fuller glory, it seems, were trying to enter the store through the EXIT door, or trying to. Half way through, they realized the mistake and started bumping into each other, struggling to get back outside, to come in the right way.

Five minutes later I saw them again as Mother was bullying her way down the breakfast food aisle.  She was pushing a shopping cart loaded down with cereal, throw-away-diapers, and a screaming, squirming, snot-nosed kid.  The kid needed changing, or hosed-down and hung out to dry.

Mother Fuller apparently took her shopping excursions seriously because she was using her cart like a Captain used the bow of an ice breaker ship in the Arctic Ocean. This meant, you’d better not get in her way.

An ass’es breath behind Mother Fuller was Pa Fuller…meekly following and hanging onto another squirming Fuller kid. This kid was bigger and busied himself by adding to his belly button booger collection. A process it seemed, of which he was immensely proud.

Taking a closer look at Pa Fuller, we find that he had inadvertently forgotten to dispel his wad of chewing tobacco before entering the store, and his mouth was beginning to leak. Lucky for him, he found himself in the shoe department and decided to make good use of a size four woman’s rubber rain boot…..on sale for half price. “HHHHhhhhcckk-PTOOO!”, …he spit.

Five feet behind Pa and trying to appear nonchalantly-separate (in case anyone should be watching), would most likely be Miss Teen-Age Fuller. Miss Teen-Age Fuller rattled as she switched the phone from one ear to the other. The rattle came from metal piercing paraphernalia hanging from various body parts.

Since the Fuller Family already had most of the cereal aisle blocked, I made to decision to come back later for my Wheaties. In the meantime, as I was scurrying away….the Fuller family, unbelievably got bigger.   Grandma and Grandpa Fuller came shuffling around the corner, trying their best to catch up with the others.

Grandpa seemed to be the only normal looking member of the Fuller family…mainly because he appeared uncomfortable, not agitated or weird like the rest.

Grandma almost looked normal…like Grandpa….until she started scratching….then it got ugly.  I had to leave.  “To HELL with my Wheaties.”  I couldn’t reach ’em anyway.  Pa Fuller was looking for another place to spit!  Mother Fuller just rammed her shopping cart into one of those motorized handicap shopper carts.  Grandpa was missing and I needed a beer. Hell.  I needed two!

Relieved to be outside, away from them… As I was getting in my car to leave, I found Grandpa Fuller.  He was sitting outside under the awning of a Winnebago, in the Walmart parking lot,  hoisting a few.  Apparently I wasn’t the only one that needed a beer.

Written on the side of the camper was one of those “free-as-the-wind-signs” and it read… THE FULLER FAMILY–ON THE ROAD.

Well!  That explained everything.   The Fuller Family had been vacationing in Walmart’s parking lot.

I think I’ll go over and have a beer with Grandpa Fuller, put up my feet, chill out, and get me one of those PLT’s (parking lot tans).

If you ever see the Fuller Family at Walmart, ask them where Grandpa is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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