Overview
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I ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ hate Walmart. The entire ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ store is run by meth heads and kept alive by obese riddled ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ Scooter people. If you can walk down an isle without seeing some kind of package ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ ripped open, you sure as hell aren’t at Walmart. If you can make it through the register lines without spending half your ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ day behind an overweight child screaming for another can of ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ diet Coke, you sure as hell aren’t at Walmart. If you can talk to an employee without physically recoiling from the intense ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ stench of their breath, or the horrid sight of their ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ meth teeth, you sure as hell aren’t at Walmart. If you can last in that store for more than five ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ minutes without developing suicidal tendencies, you sure as hell aren’t at Walmart
