Black Friday remorse

This note, scrawled in blood in the margins of a sales circular, was found among the debris left behind after Black Friday at a local Wal Mart:

Dear son,
I want you to know that I died tonight, here at Wal Mart, pinned between a pallet of slow-cookers and a bin full of discount DVDs, with the screams of other shoppers and chants of "World Star!" ringing in my ears. Even now, as the eternal darkness descends, I am within sight of a dwindling stack of PS4s, one of which I had hoped to get you for a Christmas gift. So close and yet so far. As the life ebbs from my mangled body and I wait to be hauled off, along with all the others, to the mass grave that is located behind every Wal Mart, I want you to know I don't regret a single thing I ever did in my life.
Except this.
In hindsight, hoo boy, this was an incredibly bad idea and I shouldn't have done it. I mean, you already have a perfectly good XBox. So I guess I only have one regret, but it's a pretty significant one, and essentially, it's all your fault. Anyway, Merry Christmas. you greedy little shit.