That's when she went to snarling beast mode... a hideous daemon-possessed monster, climbing up walls like a spider.
I barely escaped the rage of the crazed starlet and ran back into the store, taking shelter in the stockroom, surrounded by mountains of undistributed products I couldn't find on the shelves earlier. I quickly stuffed a jar of Cajun Injector Creole Butter in my pocket and called the police.
Meanwhile, the Tasmanian devil outside pulled a machine gun out of her kangaroo pouch and proceeded to destroy the Walmart*, much like we all need to admit we want to do when there's 30 registers and only 4 cashiers to run them. Then I woke up.
Moral of the story is, Walmart must be destroyed, Kate Hudson probably has some deeply hidden underlying issues and my subconscious arms me with only a single wooden chopstick. Thanks a lot Subconscious.
*no Walmart employees (or hapless customers for that matter) were harmed in the making of this delusion.