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Wal-Mart's junk mail had appeared on the kitchen table. Flipping through the pages to tally how much money I would not be spending there this week, I noticed the 5 a.m. special on an all-in-one computer printer-scanner-copier for a scant $25!
That's a deal, especially for a guy years without a printer, who had grown tired of emailing documents to his family and friends with the plea, "Make me a copy, Guttenberg."
Choking back acid reflux (mmmm, Wal-Marty flavor), I looked at my wife and said, "We're going in."
Later
3:14 a.m -- I crawled into bed at the normal time. Unconsciousness followed within minutes.
4:01 a.m. -- The clock alarm squealed.
4:01:37 a.m. -- Donna stirred. "We've overslept," I said.
4:22 a.m. -- Cold in a cold car, the couple of us aimed for town.
4:23 a.m. -- "We are officially nuts," I said.
4:31 a.m. -- "Run! Hurry! Get it! Get it!" I barked, as we raced beyond the entrance doors, grabbing the last available shopping cart. That's an ominous sign, no shopping carts. I felt fear and started running deep into the store.
4:32 a.m. -- "Sorry, 'Shrek 3' display," I yelled, increasing my pace, having been slowed by bumping into the ogre. "Somebody will buy you off the linoleum."
"That's not Shrek," Donna said from behind, as I turned a sharp left and sparks flew from the speeding cart's axles.
"Oh," I said with compassion. "That lady'll be okay. She was next to the bronzers."
4:34 a.m. -- We found the shrink-wrapped pallets of desirable merchandise parked in the Electronics department. I towered over the $25 Lexmarks and Donna hovered next to expensive $34 Hewlett-Packard printers, our devious back-up selection. We waited. No items would be released until 5 a.m.
4:37 a.m. -- I counted only 20 "while supplies last" printers stacked at my knees. There were easily that many customers-in-waiting circled near me with more arrivals every minute, all with a glare of menace.
I knew that look. I, too, am a cheapskate.
4:38 a.m. -- I remarked, "There's going to be bloodshed, isn't there?"
4:38:07 a.m. -- An elderly woman sized me up, adding: "Virgin, ain't-cha?"
4:38:11 a.m. -- Looking down at my feet, swiveling, I blushed, gushed, "Tee hee."
4:57 a.m. -- Sweat dripped off my brow. I felt a chill and thought of Bambi's mother.
4:58 a.m. -- "The tocking! The ticks and the tocking! Make it stop!" I told 'em.
4:59 a.m. -- Bargain bounty hunters packed the aisles. The promise of fresh roadkill permeated the air, commingled with sounds of heavy breathers tensing.
5:00 a.m. -- "Okay!" signaled the clerk. Like piranhas on a cow, the mob devoured the entire stock of printers.
5:00:01 a.m. -- Sale over.
5:03 a.m. -- I fought my way through the crowd and rescued Donna from the losers' printer envy. She clutched her own box of
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"We save another $9," I said with a high hop and an airborne heels click, and a yawn.
For the next two hours, we examined the leftover pickings of $2.96 unwatchable DVDs, and pretend blenders.
We did hoard a dozen inexpensive bath towel sets in all our favorite colors, providing those colors could only be rust, off-rust, rust rust, rust rust rust, or lint.
Out front, I posed with the finest of fortuitous finds, the pink Volkswagen Barbie car.
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Liked it so much, we dove back into the Wal-Mart and elbowed and trampled, but in a Christian manner, to snag another.
"We are officially buggy," Donna said.
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Too-too caffeinated, we strolled hand-in-hand into the Wal-Mart for old times sake, just as the first annual grandmas slugfest over Chicken Dance Elmo and Little Mommy Bedtime Baby threatened to get ugly.
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.
Continued: "Dawn's Early Bite"