The limousine pulled up at none other than Walmart. According to Amber, it was the place where people went to buy "walls… and stuff." Their sister was only aware of elite stores such as Hoochie Mama and Twigs 'R' Us (Shovel sure hopes that these stores don't actually exist).

"Walmart?"

"Si. It's-a cheap."

"Cheap? Since when did you start caring about effin' money?"

"Since I-a was a paper gangster!" He performed a flamboyant twirl, striking a pose that only a model would muster. He had been listening to far too much of Lady Gaga.

"…What?" Luigi was lost. He never truly understood pop culture references or allusions. He scratched his head, making way towards the entrance with Pavi not too far behind.

"Oh mah gawdz, eet's Luigi an' Pavi Largo!"

"…" Luigi shot a fierce glare, gritting his teeth. He quickly lost control, "Oh mah gawdz, it's a fucking peasant!" Stabbity, stab, stab. That was the end of that Walmart greeter. Hopefully, those applying to Walmart in the future have learned a very valuable lesson. From this day on, there was a different greeter every single time, because of Luigi effin' Largo.

Pavi stopped, pointing towards the Intimate Apparel. He held up a pair of thongs, "These're-a perfect for-a you!" Luigi's eyes bugged out. His jaw nearly hit the floor. The eldest Largo harshly pulled his younger brother away.

"What the fuck're you trying to pull, you fucking dimwit? Are you trying to make me fucking gay?" Pavi merely flashed an innocent look before striding towards the men's swimwear.

"Try-a this on… And-a this. And-a that. Oh! And-a this!" Luigi was covered by a mountain of clothing. His body trembled from yet another fit of ongoing rage, "Fuck Pavi. Some of this shit isn't even swimwear." Pavi was too busy to respond, however. The younger Largo was busy flirting with a woman. Luigi gave an annoyed sigh before entering the changing room.

Through stabbing and ripping apart many outfits, he found… The One. Just like your seemingly eternal search for the One to make your life complete; it called to him. It said, Luigiiiiiiiiiii…. You know you want meeeeeee. (But not really.) Luigi stepped out of the changing room.

An elderly woman happened to walk by and halted in her pace. She shrieked in sheer agony. Her eyes widened as the pain worked it's magic, "GAH! My eyes! Come take my eyes! I would rather be blind!" No, that was not Blind Mag. However, that day Mag happened to be there and this poor, pained woman happened to be the source of her inspiration.

"…"

"Hah. You-a can't see-a at all! And-a! You're a no Mag! Go-a home!" As Pavi spoke, the woman crashed into a random wall. Yes, kids. Walls can be random, especially if they block your way. A pile of purses muffled her madness.

"I look like a fucking dork…"

Pavi turned around, "No! Oh no! No, you-a don't!" He flailed his hands in protest, though he stifled a giggle.

"See! I do. You're a fucking, panty wearing liar!"

"No-a."

"Yuh huh."

"No-a!"

"Yes, you are!" He stomped his feet angrily.

"No-a! I'm not wearing panties!"

"Prove it." Luigi should have regretted ever uttering those words.

"…Bah Hahahah!" Pavi slapped his knees, bursting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. After a few minutes and death glares from Luigi, Paviche eventually calmed down. He wiped the tears from his eyes, "Dorktard!"

"Say what?"

"You-a look like a-uh dorktard."

"I think you're high on your own laughter."

"Maybe. Maybe-a not."

Luigi groaned, walking back into the room. He slammed the door shut as quickly as possible and hurriedly changed back into his attire. He held the swim suit as it snugly rested upon the hanger like that a perched bird. What did the suit look like? Well… Remember the old movies where the handsome stud wears the one-piece suit? It looked like that plus the red and white stripes.

"The heck're you doing?" He arched a brow. Pavi turned around, adjusting his button-down shirt, "Nothing." Luigi walked towards his brother, "You were shoplifting! Ha! Imagine that. The great playboy, Pavi Largo, stealing from a Walmart!"

"Shh!" Pavi put a finger to his false lips. Together, the Largo fratelli walked towards the registers. Luigi threw the suit onto the register lane thing whom Shovel couldn't remember the name of. (She was shanked by Luigi as a result). Pavi tossed a pack of gum on top of the hideous… swim suit thing, because that was all it could be reduced to- a piece of cloth made somewhere foreign.

"Get that off."

"Ah… What?"

"The gum. Off. Now."

"Why-a?"

"Because I said so."

"That-a doesn't work. You're-a not mi Papa! I'll-a pay you-a later."

"No, you won't. I know you. You're a cheap, slimy bastard."

Too late. It was all to no avail. The cashier had already scanned the chewing gum. Luigi fell to his knees, cursing to the Gods. His shout was all in vain even if it was in slow motion, "NOOOOOOOOOOOO…."

"That'll be $13.95," the cashier rolled her eyes.

"Yeah. $12.96 for the swim suit." Even though it's as fugly as sin. "And $0. 99 for the gum."

"Huh…" He quickly gave over the amount, receiving his change.

Meanwhile, the chauffeur drummed his fingers upon the dark, steering wheel. He looked around, not noticing anyone to be around. Thus, he began to sing… "I never meant to start a war. So, why does love have to feel like a BATTLEFIELD. BATTLEFIELD-" Shovel hated that song by the way. It was a rip off of Pat Benatar's and it was overplayed.

The two Largos entered the car. Pavi laughed as he clapped, "Bravi! Bravissime! You-a could be-a in the-a Genetic Opera!"

Luigi called out irritably, "Stfu and drive."

The driver was terribly flushed, "Yes, Sir."

And they were off… To the beach.