I have a problem. Okay, I have many problems. But those are none of your concern. Stop messing in my business, you Nosy Nancies. If it is not too much to ask, will you all just back the freak off, as movie drunk Sandra Bullock, wired on caffeine, shouted to her therapy group at the rehab center, early on in her sentence of 28 Days, before she hooked up with Viggo Mortensen the sex addict.
My current problem involves The Devil's Playground. How The Devil can have less variety, and smaller packages at the same old prices, yet take up more aisle space with bedraggled displays is beyooooond me. You'd think there would be more wide-open aisles, less junk crammed into the finite square-footage.
It's like one of those M.C. Escher freaky staircases. A conundrum. An enigma. I cannot find brands I once bought there. Some have been replaced by The Devil's own Great Value brand. Others are simply gone, missing from the shelves where their competitors still reside. And there are pallets of merchandise blocking the main aisles. Not new merchandise. Old standby merchandise. Is The Devil double-stocking? Are the same items on shelves as usual, and also lined up down the aisles?
That's the only plausible answer. Before long, The Devil is going to have to redesign the carts, replace them with tiny Dollar Store carts in order to get down the aisles. That means the beeping fat-rider carts will need to be streamlined. And the broad-beamed beeper-riders will wonder what's up. Just last week, my butt fit in the seat of this annoying conveyance, and now I can't get to the back of the Playground for my sugar-free 35 calorie Jello chocolate pudding.
The Devil conspires against his captive customers.