I am sorry that I talked shit about you all over town. Now that I have moved away, I know that I can not live without you.

You are like the fuck buddy one disparages till she moves out of the area - I didn’t know how much I needed you till you were gone. No, not just one fuck buddy. You are a veritable harem of cheap capitalistic goods. Oh how I miss the way your $0.88 fudge covered chocolate cookies would wink at me, asking if I wanted to get lucky. Or the way the $1.98 container of milk and honey scented bubble bath will poke out her bodacious curve as if to say, hey baby, I’ll give you a cheap thrill you didn’t know you needed till now. I miss my little renz-vous with your most coveted odalisques - super cheap underwear emblazed in glitter with the world “Princess”, ugly Olsen twins merchandise I’ll alter to reflect my own twisted third wave feminist agenda, low grade cat nip, and your crowning glory, a $4.38 2005 calendar dedicated to the virtues of the late Ronald Regan.

I am going to visit you in Dorchester today. Yes, I’ll feel the immediate feeling of crushing shame at my support of child labor and economic colonialism, only to be rescued from my conscience by the thrill of $0.77 six foot extension cords, $1.37 strings of cloisonné beads, $2.56 Cinnamon Life Cereal. Yes, that old familiar discomfort will soon fade as I turn my attentions to the instant gratification of super saver deals.

Wal-Mart, I love you, despite your many flaws, the way one loves a very beautiful trophy wife who happens to have recently been charged by the UN War Crimes Tribunal for genocide.

Wal-Mart, I promise that I will come back to visit you soon. And I’ll tell anybody who disses my patronage of you that they just don’t understand the love that you and I share.

Xo,

Jane Torpedo

PS - Karl Marx one said that religion is the opium of the masses. But I think that if Karl were alive today he’d agree that the profusion of cheap delights available at you, oh Wal-Mart, far surpasses religion in its universal appeal.