Scooterbeast asserts dominance in Walmart candy aisle I get to see some pretty good fats where I live, and when it comes to whale watching nothing beats Walmart. You'll see the highest concentrations of the most absurdly porkly eatbeasts you've ever seen. Not just fat sightings, but encounters. Normal BMI humans are nearly extinct in a Walmart. Every single one of them are enormous, contorted, deformed, diseased and bedridden. Not your average American fat, your horrorstory sideshow freak kind of fats. A couple days ago I stopped by after work to pick of some candy for my kid's Valentine's party at school. 5 o'clock in the Walmart candy aisle is asking for trouble, but I went in anyways. It was the usual assortment of cheesehogs, but nothing I haven't seen before. Ballooned beer guts, low-hanging pannicula, beetus feet a-plenty. Nothing too remarkable. But then - BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP You don't really see a lot of oldfats, but there she was. 500 lbs of greasy glory backing up to get a better trajectory into the candy aisle because she took the corner too hard and nearly knocked down a display of chocolate hearts. Now there was no room in the aisle for her. About 4 people with carts, including myself, are in the area. The aisle is clearly inaccessible, and for her to get in, people have to move. Which I was trying to do, but that fat sack of shit just couldn't wait. She floored it. She hit that gas so hard it jerked her forward, knocking around the items in her already full cart. Oatmeal cream pies, instant mac-n-cheese and sausages tumbled around in the knowledge that their time was short. The crowd scattered. I had to retreat backwards so quickly that I couldn't even look behind me. Jaw dropped in disbelief, I looked at the she-beast. Her face was beaded with sweat, from the strenuous activity of sitting in air conditioning. Her breathing was heavy, labored even. Her eyes were crazed like a wild animal; you could tell the hunt for the beetus is the most primal part of her existence. She stopped within the first 3 feet of the aisle and tore into the cardboard display, reaching to the back of the shelf. She either knows exactly what she's looking for and has been looking for a long time, or wants a "fresher bag" of porkfeed. By this time I had escaped the aisle with my single bag of Swedish fish, but the horror of the scooterbeast frenzy lingered. It was as if she could not see the people and the carts around her, that nothing but the sweet beetus mattered. That she could be delivered unto endless bloodsugar bliss by just leaning forward and falling into the chocolatey abyss. I don't know how she made it to the store, as I'm sure stoplights and roadsigns don't register on the porkdar either.