Depot Pop 6:45am, Fat Person Murdered

The insulation aisle smells like a dead rainforest.

Part 1

I’m listening to pop music at 6:45 am. I’m at Home Depot. Pop music in every indoor place was a giant mistake that won't go unpunished.

I find a dim corner, shelter from the fluorescent lights.

The insulation aisle smells like a dead rainforest. 

Everyone here is fat and retarded. Fat and retarded go hand in hand. 

My feet are on fire from walking on smooth concrete. 

How many dead indigenous are beneath this warehouse store? Did they curse this concrete? 

Did Native Americans know about stretching?

Yes. Who did they talk to, who did they rest with, when they were alone on a hunting trip or scouting mission? Their bodies. The trees and the sky. The stars and water and all the little animals. There were many animals. They spoke 1,000 languages. None of them html. 

“McDonald’s is for kids anyways,” says the employee with the largest ass I have ever seen. The how’s-that-even-possible level of fatass. 

Health insurance is $850 a month and you get nothing. How could that be?

The answer is gros…