"wow," i said, pointing to the inbred redneck taking a shit in front of the home depot.
"now son," my dad began, "do not judge, lest we be judged."
I wasn't sure where my dad got that little tidbit from. Probably from the bible. Or maybe a fortune cookie.
We're entered the home depot, and my bloodshot were greeted by the sight of what seemed to be a million people scrambling, trying to procure as many wooden planks, emergency radios, and machine guns as they could wrap their arms around. No doubt, they were not only anticipating a category 5 hurricane, but possibly a post-hurricane zombie onslaught. I smiled a rare smile, comforted that I was not the only one who wouldn't take chances when it came to flesh-eating zombies.
"How are we going to navigate through these bands of rednecks and morons?" I asked my dad.
He glared at me. I knew we wanted me to use my psychic powers to shield him as he burrowed through the swarms of people, but I had never used my gift while high, and I was uncertain as to what would happen. Maybe nothing, but maybe the world would explode. But I also didn't want my dad to know I was high. I held my options in painstaking consideration, splicing both and examining them carefully. I opted to use my gift in the end.
I started to chant. "Kalli Mah. Kalli Mah." The ground beneath us started to tremble, and all the lights that kept the store in a state of sterile white exploded. Suddenly, small groups of people erupted in flame.
"wow, nice job son," my dad said as we made our ways past the crowds of people running around on fire, flailing their arms about and colliding with each other. Their screams crackled and exploded and were very bad sounding. We got all of our supplies and left without paying.