"Well, it's your loss compadré." I tell the old guy. I ask myself why I'm occasionally ending my sentences with Spanish, because it's kinda weird. Damn you, American private education system. I think to myself, as I drive off to unload my supplies. I'm totally American, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a pendejo. Wait... DAMN IT! I catch a glimpse of that guy I met in Walmart, following the old man. I start to wonder in he's being hunted down, but shake the feeling off with a quick Twinkie that I pulled out of the passenger seat.

I pull in the truck to the back of my shop, and put it in "park". The first thing I do is take the stuff out of the passenger seat and start loading it into the freezer area of my bunker, to keep it cold. Then, I bring each individual box of Twinkies and store them on as many shelves as I can fit them on. I managed to get more than half of the boxes in the truck before I ran out of shelf room. So, logically I start stacking them in the back of the room. No use keeping them in both the truck and the bunker, better to keep them in one place.

After I am done with that, I lock the bunker up with my key, so no one will get them without my permission. Although I DO have enough Twinkies to keep myself alive for MANY years, minus the risk of a heart attack from the major increased weight. While I'm at it, I attach the car keys to my ring of keys that I already have for: the shop, the bunker, my car (now destroyed, so I discard it), my house, my office (which I don't stay in much), and my wife's car. After I'm done with that, I pick up my Desert Eagle and my Python, along with enough ammo to kill probably 100 nerds. After that, I start jogging to get more in-shape.