The Big Box Paradox

There’s something odd going on in my local big box store. By odd, I mean there are strange, unexplained happenings in the cavernous warehouse that defy the logic of our world.

There are unseen forces at work in these places and I’m convinced they are not as benign as the Big Box Overlords would have us believe. Dark forces are at work when you “really didn’t need anything,” yet your wallet is $200 lighter when you leave. Time has no meaning here. An hour or two slip away and you can’t explain what happened to you, other than you have a metric ton of shrink wrapped toilet paper in your cart.

more toilet paper than you need – ever
image by iwan gabovitch via flickr creative commons

During a recent expedition to a nearby big box store, I discovered some “truths” that expose the bulk shopping experience in a new and harrowing light.

Through some alien technology, weak minded individuals are identified and provided with cards that allow entry into the temple. The cult followers file through the doors after a dead-eyed “greeter” approves the card holder as a fellow cult member. I don’t want to jump to any conclusion and mention Tom Cruise and the big “S,” because I’ll end up with a rattlesnake in my mailbox. But, the restricted access to the inner sanctum makes one suspicious. (And, yes I do have a card – for research purposes, you understand)

Greeter at local big box
image by kevin o’mara via flickr creative commons

The interior is a sprawling hectare of dystopian landscape. Bare concrete floors, rows of towering metal shelves with light through skylights, so as not to forget what the outside world looked like. Wandering the Field of Rows becomes something of a pilgrimage, a slow semi-conscious trudge to the holy land – where you are given communion of day old carne asada, followed by wine tasting. The way some of these pilgrims force their way back in line evidences the religious zeal of the true cult member.

Welcome to the temple
image courtesy of nor.org

Wandering the rows of twenty-foot tall metal shelves made it clear that the big box was a self-sustaining colony, like a silo from a Hugh Howey novel. One row roasted the coffee for the followers, another provided the plants and vegetables, and yet another region of the colony held the cryogenically preserved boneless chicken wings, in handy 55 gallon bags. There cannot be an energy shortage, because I have seen the wall of batteries, containing sufficient stored energy to replace the western power grid. There are pharmacies here, books, optometry services, and booze by the tanker truckload to placate the crowds. I did obtain a sample of the latter in the form of a 2 liter bottle of gin, just to fit in, you understand. You never have to leave…

what it feels like in a big box store
image by life of pix via pixabay

The Big Box Overlords have something much more sinister going on. An advanced form of mind control is at work here. There can be no other explanation for entering with the intention of picking up some allergy medication and coming out with a barbecue grill and a five gallon tub of blueberries. Mind control…

There is a dark corner where I am always a bit reluctant to explore. They sell caskets here. Honest to God, bury your body in the dirt, caskets. Or do they? Have you ever seen one wheel out the front door? Nope. And why do they have the home surveillance cameras set up next to the caskets? Are they watching a portal to “the other side?” That would explain why there are more “people” inside than cars out in the parking lot.

Whatever it is that they have going on in that casket section creeps the bejesus out of me. When we start seeing cases of Soylent Green Crackers on the shelves, then we’ll know the Overlords have completed the “cradle to grave” consumer connection.

What gives you the willies from your big box store?