|Son of Walmart
Author: Myrika PM
Armageddon commences at 4:37 PM. Only Mary Lou, a diner waitress, can stop it. //REMOVED//Rated: Fiction T - English - Parody/Spiritual - Words: 463 - Reviews: 59 - Favs: 34 - Follows: 4 - Published: 09-20-07 - Status: Complete - id: 2417244
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Son of Wal-Mart
Mary-Lou was a human dumpling stuffed into a svelte size fourteen waitress uniform with dimpled arms and legs, her ample bosom straining the buttons, a truly awesome sight that had all male diners betting on when her feminine glories would spill out. Never had an event been so eagerly awaited, not since the Thanksgiving sale at Mabel's, which had resulted in fifteen black eyes, forty-six bloody noses, and two hundred eleven curses. All agreed that women were rabid creatures when it came to the last pair of designer shoes on sale for a mere twenty.
On this fair day, however, it was Armageddon. The world was scheduled to die at the precise time of 4:37 PM, although no one was really sure which time zone that was. The point was, this was the definite end-of-the-world.
No one had bothered to enlighten the citizens of Podunkville, so Mary-Lou darted to table and table, trying to take orders and trying not to slap Old Man Perkins and Older Man Townsend, who were wont to pinch her arse. "Look at her!" Perkins cackled, rubbing his hands, "God praise the Irish!"
The truth was that Mary-Lou wasn't Irish - she'd been born a proud mongrel of German-English-Polish-whatever mix - but a quirk of family genes had blessed her with flaming-red hair that curled past her shoulders in stubborn tangles, kept out of her face by a granny hairnet and two rubber bands.
Townsend glared at her with rheumy eyes. "God curse the Irish!" he roared, banging his fist against the cracked surface of their table. The assorted cups and saucers and condoms (even at his age, Townsend liked to say you had to be prepared) rattled. "They gave us those bloody elves! Prancing around in their green hats and tights-"
"Leprechauns," Mary-Lou said as she hurried past him. She dodged his snaking hand, and circled around the crayons the shrieking brat in the corner had thrown on the floor, and finally made it to the relative haven of the kitchen. "Where's that grilled cheese the Harrison boy asked for? Come on."
I have been plagiarized fourteen times in the last two weeks. For this reason I am taking down everything but the first chapter for my long stories, so I can preserve my timestamps and prove that I wrote the stories first. If you guys need more information, please refer to the plagiarism notes for my long stories. I am now in the process of taking down this one-shot.
I hope you guys understand my decision. Please feel free to contact me via email, Livejournal, PM, review, twitter, or my personal website. Check my FP profile. Thanks.