Useless thread MCMXCV - John Price is full of yogurt - An intervention
- Thread starter End of Line
- Start date
John Price
Gang Gang
- Sep 19, 2008
- 385,260
- 30,648
Sega Dreamcast
party like it's 1999
Watching my team play a game they definitely should win just isn't as fun as watching a game against a good opponent.
A win isn't that satisfying, while losing is that much more disappointing.
And that's why college football sucks, ranked teams squashing unranked teams is a waste of time
A win isn't that satisfying, while losing is that much more disappointing.
And that's why college football sucks, ranked teams squashing unranked teams is a waste of time
Last edited:
SoupNazi
Gee Wally/SoupNazi 2024
- Feb 6, 2010
- 27,091
- 17,221
He keeps spelling AJ Hinch’s name Hinsch.Your disdain of the Guards is just bizarre.......and obviously rooted in the change of nickname.
"Kindergarten Kyle"
And keeps making this claim that Cleveland had a championship caliber roster. It isn’t even good trolling.
SoupNazi
Gee Wally/SoupNazi 2024
- Feb 6, 2010
- 27,091
- 17,221
Uh oh. That cough syrup will have you dancing on the table.
John Price
Gang Gang
- Sep 19, 2008
- 385,260
- 30,648
PanthersPens62
Paul & Stanley
SoupNazi
Gee Wally/SoupNazi 2024
- Feb 6, 2010
- 27,091
- 17,221
It was just another dull Tuesday at Walmart, where employees were clocking in for another day of enduring the strange, the absurd, and the downright incomprehensible. Little did they know, today would be the day @John Price, a 40-year-old veteran of the HFBoards Useless Thread and self-proclaimed connoisseur of consumer justice, would arrive.
John’s appearance was hard to miss. Standing at a diminutive five-foot-four, his balding head gleamed under the fluorescent lights, and his slightly-too-tight “Gamer for Life” hoodie was paired with baggy cargo shorts that were filled with crumpled receipts and who-knows-what else. But what truly set him apart were the three plushies he cradled in his arms: a battered Pikachu, a faded Charizard, and a giant, floppy stuffed giraffe he lovingly referred to as “Gerald.”
John waddled through the automatic doors with determination, his plush companions riding shotgun as he clutched a plastic grocery bag containing what he believed was the evidence of Walmart’s greatest corporate failure.
The greeter, Martha, who had seen more than her fair share of unusual customers, raised an eyebrow at the sight of John. “Welcome to Walmart,” she said cheerily, masking her curiosity. “What brings you in today?”
John nodded solemnly. “Justice,” he said cryptically, heading straight for the Customer Service desk, the plushies tucked firmly under one arm.
At the desk, Linda, the seasoned clerk, glanced up from her register. “Good morning! How can I help you today?”
John dropped his bag onto the counter with an exaggerated thud. “I’m here to return this,” he said, placing Pikachu down to help free his hands. The yellow plush slumped sideways, looking just as weary as Linda suddenly felt.
Linda’s smile flickered as she opened the bag. Her expression shifted to confusion, then horror, as she realized what lay inside: a partially unraveled roll of toilet paper, stained and used.
“Sir,” she said slowly, “is this... used toilet paper?”
John nodded emphatically. “Yes, and it’s defective. I demand a refund.”
Linda blinked, her professionalism clashing with an instinctive urge to call for security. “I’m sorry, but we can’t accept that as a return. Hygiene products are non-refundable.”
John frowned, setting Charizard on the counter beside Pikachu. He gently placed Gerald next to them as though their presence bolstered his argument. “Listen, Linda,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially. “This toilet paper tore mid-use. Do you have any idea how traumatic that is? Gerald here can’t even look at it anymore.”
Linda stared at Gerald’s floppy, lifeless face. “Sir, I’m really sorry, but—”
John cut her off, his voice rising. “I’ve been a loyal Walmart customer for years! I’ve spent thousands here. Thousands! I demand to speak to a manager.”
Linda sighed and paged her manager, a tall, no-nonsense man named Greg. When Greg arrived and saw the mess of plushies, toilet paper, and indignation before him, he raised an eyebrow. “What’s the issue here?”
“This toilet paper,” John began, pointing at the roll as though it were Exhibit A in a court case, “is a hazard. I wouldn’t be surprised if I have grounds for a lawsuit. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer—or, worse, I’ll make a thread about this on HFBoards.”
“HFBoards?” Greg asked, bewildered.
John waved a hand dismissively. “It’s a major online community. Thousands of people read my posts. Thousands! I’m practically an influencer.”
Greg pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sir, I’m sorry, but we can’t refund used toilet paper. That’s our policy. I’d be happy to give you a coupon for a new roll, though.”
“A coupon?” John barked. “This is outrageous! I’ve never been treated like this in my life.”
Behind him, the growing crowd of onlookers snickered. A teenager snapped a picture of John and his plushie trio, whispering to a friend, “This is going viral.”
John, oblivious to the ridicule, grabbed Gerald and turned to address the crowd. “Do you see this? Corporate greed at its finest! They’re too busy raking in profits to care about the little guy. Pikachu, Charizard, Gerald, and I—we’re the little guys!”
Greg, trying to suppress a smirk, handed John a customer feedback form. “Feel free to fill this out, sir.”
John snatched the form and stomped toward the exit, muttering about filing a Better Business Bureau complaint. His plushies jostled with every step, looking almost as defeated as he felt.
Later that evening, John typed furiously on his keyboard, crafting a lengthy post titled Walmart’s Toilet Paper Scam: A Plushie-Powered Exposé. Despite his efforts, it was promptly moved to the Useless Thread by the HFBoards moderators.
And so, John’s crusade ended as it had begun—pointless, absurd, and entirely ignored by the world outside his echo chamber of stuffed animals and internet rants.
John’s appearance was hard to miss. Standing at a diminutive five-foot-four, his balding head gleamed under the fluorescent lights, and his slightly-too-tight “Gamer for Life” hoodie was paired with baggy cargo shorts that were filled with crumpled receipts and who-knows-what else. But what truly set him apart were the three plushies he cradled in his arms: a battered Pikachu, a faded Charizard, and a giant, floppy stuffed giraffe he lovingly referred to as “Gerald.”
John waddled through the automatic doors with determination, his plush companions riding shotgun as he clutched a plastic grocery bag containing what he believed was the evidence of Walmart’s greatest corporate failure.
The greeter, Martha, who had seen more than her fair share of unusual customers, raised an eyebrow at the sight of John. “Welcome to Walmart,” she said cheerily, masking her curiosity. “What brings you in today?”
John nodded solemnly. “Justice,” he said cryptically, heading straight for the Customer Service desk, the plushies tucked firmly under one arm.
At the desk, Linda, the seasoned clerk, glanced up from her register. “Good morning! How can I help you today?”
John dropped his bag onto the counter with an exaggerated thud. “I’m here to return this,” he said, placing Pikachu down to help free his hands. The yellow plush slumped sideways, looking just as weary as Linda suddenly felt.
Linda’s smile flickered as she opened the bag. Her expression shifted to confusion, then horror, as she realized what lay inside: a partially unraveled roll of toilet paper, stained and used.
“Sir,” she said slowly, “is this... used toilet paper?”
John nodded emphatically. “Yes, and it’s defective. I demand a refund.”
Linda blinked, her professionalism clashing with an instinctive urge to call for security. “I’m sorry, but we can’t accept that as a return. Hygiene products are non-refundable.”
John frowned, setting Charizard on the counter beside Pikachu. He gently placed Gerald next to them as though their presence bolstered his argument. “Listen, Linda,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially. “This toilet paper tore mid-use. Do you have any idea how traumatic that is? Gerald here can’t even look at it anymore.”
Linda stared at Gerald’s floppy, lifeless face. “Sir, I’m really sorry, but—”
John cut her off, his voice rising. “I’ve been a loyal Walmart customer for years! I’ve spent thousands here. Thousands! I demand to speak to a manager.”
Linda sighed and paged her manager, a tall, no-nonsense man named Greg. When Greg arrived and saw the mess of plushies, toilet paper, and indignation before him, he raised an eyebrow. “What’s the issue here?”
“This toilet paper,” John began, pointing at the roll as though it were Exhibit A in a court case, “is a hazard. I wouldn’t be surprised if I have grounds for a lawsuit. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer—or, worse, I’ll make a thread about this on HFBoards.”
“HFBoards?” Greg asked, bewildered.
John waved a hand dismissively. “It’s a major online community. Thousands of people read my posts. Thousands! I’m practically an influencer.”
Greg pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sir, I’m sorry, but we can’t refund used toilet paper. That’s our policy. I’d be happy to give you a coupon for a new roll, though.”
“A coupon?” John barked. “This is outrageous! I’ve never been treated like this in my life.”
Behind him, the growing crowd of onlookers snickered. A teenager snapped a picture of John and his plushie trio, whispering to a friend, “This is going viral.”
John, oblivious to the ridicule, grabbed Gerald and turned to address the crowd. “Do you see this? Corporate greed at its finest! They’re too busy raking in profits to care about the little guy. Pikachu, Charizard, Gerald, and I—we’re the little guys!”
Greg, trying to suppress a smirk, handed John a customer feedback form. “Feel free to fill this out, sir.”
John snatched the form and stomped toward the exit, muttering about filing a Better Business Bureau complaint. His plushies jostled with every step, looking almost as defeated as he felt.
Later that evening, John typed furiously on his keyboard, crafting a lengthy post titled Walmart’s Toilet Paper Scam: A Plushie-Powered Exposé. Despite his efforts, it was promptly moved to the Useless Thread by the HFBoards moderators.
And so, John’s crusade ended as it had begun—pointless, absurd, and entirely ignored by the world outside his echo chamber of stuffed animals and internet rants.
SoupNazi
Gee Wally/SoupNazi 2024
- Feb 6, 2010
- 27,091
- 17,221
John Price
Gang Gang
- Sep 19, 2008
- 385,260
- 30,648
John Price
Gang Gang
- Sep 19, 2008
- 385,260
- 30,648
SoupNazi
Gee Wally/SoupNazi 2024
- Feb 6, 2010
- 27,091
- 17,221
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