This month marks the expiration of my Costco membership. I can't really imagine why I felt compelled to get one in the first place. I am a young, single, gay man and the things that I need and desire to own are not for sale at warehouse prices. I suppose part of the allure was having heard Sandra Bernhard tell the story of how she took Britney Spears there to purchase copious amounts of toilet paper. "I like to buy my paper products in bulk." Sandra said. Who doesn't? I asked myself as I drove deep into the valley to where I had passed this local bastion of commerce. The parking lot was so crowded, it took me at least ten minutes to find a space. As I approached the monolithic building, my pulse quickened. Was this the answer to all life's problems? A blast of conditioned air hit me as I entered. I immediately went to the membership counter and signed up. Forty bucks for a one year admission seemed a little steep, but I was sure I would recoup it in the incredible savings. Now, it was time to shop.
I wandered the aisles, careful to avoid the baby carriages and gigantic shopping carts of the many family units that filled the store. I was truly amazed to see how literally everything could be sold in ridiculously large quantities. Who couldn't appreciate a 5 gallon jar of spaghetti sauce? Wide screen TV's, power tools, golf shorts, candy bars, it was overwhelming. After the initial shock wore off, I tried to find something I could justify buying. None of the bestselling books interested me. Their DVD and CD selection was lame. I could never consume any of the food products before they expired. The clothes were ugly. I didn't have room for a patio set or a china hutch. Slowly, I began to realize that I had made a horrible mistake.
Babies were crying. Old ladies were trying to get me to taste their summer sausages. Poorly parented children ran willy-nilly, to and fro. Couples argued over hams and pies. I was in hell... and I needed out. But I couldn't leave without buying something. So, I made a selection and headed to the deeper level of the underworld, which was checking out. The lines were all insanely long. Where was the express line for attractive, young folks who just needed one little thing? I was astonished by the purchases I witnessed my fellow members making. I guess your baby will need all those diapers after it eats fifty cans of chili... Once out, I ran to the car and vowed never to return. This place was evil, pure evil...
How sad is it that someone could be buried in a coffin purchased at Costco? I drove home, shaken. It was a good thing that I now had 1500 B-vitamins to help calm my nerves. I was happy to receive a letter recently, reminding me that my membership to Satan World was almost expired. Would I like to renew? No, thank you!