Lydia heard voices echo across the empty store, but she knew she'd have plenty of time to introduce herself later. The animals came first and by the looks of it, they needed help. Desperately. Whoever was in charge of the Pet Department last seemed to have left it without warning, abandoning the poor creatures. Taking a closer look at the gerbil's cage in front of her, their bedding was filled with more poo than Lydia thought was possible to come from a tiny rodent. "Don't worry little guys, you'll be--WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Lydia said as two skinny gerbils threw themselves at each other. Not breeding like one would expect, but...attacking, a flurry of claws and teeth, biting through flesh. She'd never seen anything like it. "Stop that!" Lydia shouted at them, pounding her fist on the glass cage. They stopped and blinked their tiny black eyes at her, before biting at each other again. Lydia did the only thing she could think of and lifted the top off the cage. Her stomach lurched. A heavy scent lingered in the air, wafting up to her nose. The stench of death. Lydia gagged and pulled the hem of her t-shirt up over her mouth as she reached in with her other hand to grab the more violent of the gerbils. The rodent squirmed and gnawed at her skin, but she hurriedly walked around the counter and picked up one of the pet cardboard boxes she'd spotted. Without a second thought, she dropped the crazed gerbil in the box and closed it tight. Lydia held her sides, the shock and adrenaline rush kicking in. What the heck just happened?! Her stunned gaze went back to the cage where the remaining beaten-up gerbil was sipping at an empty water bottle. The other gerbils were still snuggled together in the plastic house like the first time she saw them. Apparently, they were sleeping forever. How long had things been in this condition? Weeks? Lydia decided to look at the next pet section, the birds. Bad idea. The sight of seven parakeet corpses caused her stomach to rumble again threateningly. Three more parakeets sat alive on a perch, one in a dormant state with its once beautiful feathers in shreds, another flapping and chirping madly, and the last, glaring at her. Lydia bit her trembling lip, her expression apologetic to the bird before she dragged her feet to the fish tank. As expected, dozens of them were floating in their water and a few lucky ones continued to swim through the graveyard. Tears slipped down her cheeks, illuminated in the blue florescent light. How could someone do this?! It was cruel, heartless, irresponsible! She could report the place for animal abuse! Lydia sighed, wiping her face. No, she needed this job and the surviving animals needed her. Who else could they depend on? "Ok...you got this, yeah, you totally can do this, Lydia." She said aloud to herself. She was still very freaked out, but first things first, the animals needed food and water. She'd feel even worse if the rest died because of her. Lydia was able to find the food easily enough, but of course, it had gone bad. She opened brand new bags and tried to keep her gag reflex in check as she poured food into the bowls and water into the bottles. She made sure to put food in the cardboard box for the gerbil who had gone to extreme cannibalistic measures, the scene which had now been seared into her brain. Lydia dried the last of her tears as she began the walk back to the store entrance, hoping to find someone...anyone, to get rid of the corpses. Soon she turned the corner to see Charlie talking with a few others. "Hello, excuse me!" Lydia called out, approaching them. She didn't try to hide the urgency in her voice. "Can someone help me please?!"
A woman, in distress! Bale turned towards the sound, his jaw nearly dropping at the sight of the perfect redhead. Her eyes, her skin, her naturally red-hair, that desperate expression as she begged for aid. All of it...perfect. "Yes! I'm Bale! What's wrong!? How can I help?" He said running over to her, his expression that of deep concern.
Chunk turned around, catching a whiff of death and decay coming from the pet section. What in God's name? Had the animals been shipped in two weeks ago without anyone to care for them before Lydia showed up? The man eating Lucky Charms seemed blissfully unaware of what was going on. It was just as well. "Can someone help me please?!" He heard Lydia say. Chunk turned and watched as the hunk approached her. "Yes! I'm Bale! What's wrong!? How can I help?" Good. At least someone was going to help her. If Chunk tried removing the dead bodies himself, he would probably not eat again for days. It was too much, really, thinking that the man who owned this store could be so senseless that he'd left the store unattended and let the animals die. Surely he hadn't known. Surely there had been a mistake. Chunk needed to have a word with Charlie. Better yet, he needed to contact Mr. King. That idea burst like a bubble inside his mind as Chunk's dead grandfather's voice came to him from the grave. Though he knew it wasn't real, the voice, like a memory, still had the power to haunt his conscious mind. You can't contact Mr. King, Chunk-o. You know Goddamn good and well you can't. There's a reason he chose Charlie, the man who enjoys staring at the insides of his eyelids, to run this place. Don't be a fool. And don't do anything stupid. You've already fucked up enough, don't you think? "Yes," Chunk whispered. He'd made some mistakes he wished he could take back. But what could he do about that now? He had to stay here--had to keep this job. He had no choice in the matter. Don't think about the dead pets, he thought to himself. Don't think about the dead pets or the mess of wires hanging from the ceiling in the break room. Don't think about the broken light bulbs, or the ceiling tiles lying on the floor, or Russian chick or the hunk or the redhead. Just find a place to make yourself useful and stay out of everyone's way. It was the best thing to do right now, really. Chunk looked back at Lucky Charms, hoping he would snap out of his cereal-induced daze. "Hey, can you hear me?" He asked, waving a hand in front of the man's face.
Garrison stared at Ivanna; his smile had finally vanished from his face at the woman’s aggressive attitude. Garrison glanced at the paper she’d handed for a moment before calmly reaching into his pocket and retrieving a silver flask. He took a small sip and gave a refreshing sigh. Garrison's grin returned looking between Ivan and Chunk. "So you want me to sign this then?" He asked showing his teeth. Ivan's gaze lingered on the janitor as he collected her discarded cup and departed, as sweet as can be. Oh, so he was one of those passive aggressive types… those were her favorite. Two could play that game. Ahem, anyway, she quickly returned her attention to the man in charge. "Yeah," she said flatly. "Unless you wanna review my handiwork first and deduct whatever damages I allegedly caused. I don't do shitty work. I thought your boss knew that when he hired me." "This here?" He said pointing at the paper. "Yup. That there," she said. "Need a pen?" "On this dotted line?" Garrison asked. "On this very piece of paper." "Shall I hold your hand?" Garrison leaned closer to her. "If you'd like?" He outstretched it. "I'll need that pen to." She gently took his hand, pressed her favorite ballpoint pen into his palm, and carefully closed his fingers around it with a smile. "Right there, Garebear," she said, guiding the tip to the line marked 'supervisor signature.' "Awww you called me Garebear." He said, his face lightning up as he signed his name. "I probably should note that I'm not actually in charge though." He admitted finishing the signature with a little smiley face. "I know," Ivan said with a smile. "I faxed a copy to HR and another to the manager, to see who'll take the bait. Hope they're not complete morons, but, after reviewing the sales figures from the last eight quarters, I ain't gettin' my hopes up." She realized now would probably be a good time to introduce herself. "Ivan," she said, giving his hand a really stiff shake. "Or Roxy. Whatever works. I handle loss prevention. That means if you break something, steal something, lose something, intentionally waste this company's time, or --god forbid-- sign a $500 invoice that some stranger just shoved in your face, I'll be so far up your ass, you can't sit without my permission." "That's cool." Garrison said casually chewing on the pen, not really caring what she'd just told him but his eyes went wide for a moment. "Roxy.....Roxy you said?" His friendly grin faded slightly. "How ironic." Ivan's eyes narrowed on him. She didn't like being the butt of a joke she didn't understand. "Yeah… ironic," she said, pretending to know what the heck he was talking about. "Well ironic for me." Garrison shrugged. "Unless you knew her but I'm pretty sure she's dead now." He said happily. Garrison was silent for several moments. "My apologies for getting sidetracked." He chuckled. "But its funny how fate put two Roxy's into my working area within the last five years, though I doubt you'll bring as much fun as that kid did." He tipped his hat. "But thankfully less work." "Less work, huh?" Ivan said with a sinister grin. "Bet the janitor don't think so," she snickered. "I'll make sure Shop'N'Drop gets it's money's worth outta him… and you too, Garebear. See ya 'round. I'ma go recount the storeroom 'fore we open." "Feel welcomed." He said. "But watch out for the fishman." --- Garrison whistled along not much caring what he signed or being bothered to care, to care about something only meant to put effort into it and effort was tasking. He smiled at Chunk's back listening to the man whisper loudly to himself for a moment. He heard screaming over near the pet section and then people talking about a horrible smell, he raised an eyebrow. "Oh RIGHT!" He snapped his fingers. "The animals...." He was supposed to feed them. Dead? Yes probably dead, h gave a soft laugh, oh well it was an honest mistake. He'd have to have King place an order for more rodents and whatever the heck was back there. "This day sure has a been a pill." He said to himself. "And the customers aren't even getting in yet......probably should close the pet department today."
It seemed the beefcake had run off to help a pretty girl in the pets department. Well, pretty, if you liked that sort of thing. Georgette sighed, finally alone now, she decided to wander off in search of breakfast. Her ringing ear was proof that Garrison had bellowed it was OK. She grabbed herself a chocolate milk and wound her way round to the bakery section, where a sample of sad looking pastries sat. She picked up a croissant and tapped it against the counter. It was rock hard. She squeezed a few more and eventually found one that wouldn't break her teeth. It would be fine dipped in chocolate milk, which she did as she walked back round the empty store. With a little brain fuel, she began to think back to her interview. Where did that guy tell her she'd be working? She had completely zoned out by that point. As she passed along the cold meat area she stopped and carefully eyed up the giant fish-man...thing...briefly moving into the back storage area. She looked at the date on the bottle of chocolate milk. Yep, went off two days ago.
Jimi was doing his thing, being an absolute beast. "All Along the Watchtower," Teddy sang the words quietly with the heart felt passion of a radio groupie, slowly nodding his head to the entrancing beats. All along the horizon he stared, out at the crop fields nearby that blocked his view, filling his vision with green. Green. The way the morning sun hit the car park, it looked a little green. The crops, yea, they were green. Even the sky had a tinge of green to it. "Greeeeeeeeen." He breathed. He stuffed more Lucky Charms into his mouth, holding them in his gerbil cheeks before proceeding to add milk from the carton. Most of the sweet white nectar filled his fleshy cereal bowl, but some leaked out only to be mopped up by Teddy's wild beard. "Swo goowd." He mumbled. Jimi was tearing it up on the guitar, the solo was off the chain, out of this world, he was killing it... A violent wave of skin assaulted Teddy's view, shaking madly in front of his face and Teddy stared out at it dumbfounded, gazing up past the wrist and elbow to see a man attached to it. He seemed mad. "Sup dude." Teddy said after swallowing the giant mouthful, then taking off his orange headphones. The man's face had not shifted in any way after this response, still creased with black lines and furrowed. Definitely mad. Maybe offer him something. Teddy kept his sunglasses locked with the man's eyes and gazed down at the cereal box, picked it up and shook it in the direction of the janitor. "Lucky Charms?"
Bale's words were a relief to her ears, but the man himself was a relief to her eyes after what she'd just witnessed. Toned muscles and a figure like his she'd seen in photoshopped pictures, never right in front of her...speaking to her. It was all too much, too fast, Lydia started crying again. "They're dead!" She said between her tears. Bale felt as if he'd just been stabbed in the heart by this girl's grief. "Hey, it's ok. Start at the beginning. First, what's your name?" He asked kindly, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Lydia," she said, sniffling. "Lydia Everett and I work in the Pet Department and oh my gosh." She put her hands on her head, still processing the horrific image. "Gerbils were trying to eat each other!" "Oh, that's horrible. I'm sorry, Lydia." He replied, his tone laced with genuine disgust. "So, you need help cleaning out the cages?" "Yeah, only two gerbils, three birds, and a couple fish survived." Lydia said. "The rest are going to need to go, but it's bad...really bad, maybe we should have a janitor take them. Do we have one of those?" "Um, yeah, but I think he's cleaning up a mess on aisle nine right now. We could go ask him. Or I could...if you need a moment." Lydia's tears disappeared as she offered a smile. "Thanks but I'll be fine...it's just, you know first day stress and all. I've always thought hamsters were way better than gerbils anyway. Guess I was right." She brushed away a piece of hair stuck to her face as she stepped forward. "Aisle nine, sure. Let's go!" Bale walked beside her, his heart fluttering at the sight of her smile. Even that was perfect. "It's my first day too. I'm working as a cashier and stock boy. What made you choose Shop'n'drop?" Lydia nibbled on her lip, watching her feet instead of staring at him. "Last choice. I tried The Pet Palace across the street but they never even asked me for an interview. Still have no idea why...uh, what about you?" "It was the easiest place to get a job straight out of high school." He shrugged. "So you must like animals then. To want to work in a pet shop." "Not like, I LOVE them!" She said, raising her head up suddenly. "I'd like to go to college for zoology more than work at a pet store, but I have to pay my own way, so it's work first, dream later." "I get that." Bale nodded. "Its good to have a passion. Makes you feel alive inside. No matter what anyone tells you. It's what drives you forward, to overcome whatever gets in your way." He looked up at the ceiling as he spoke, as if thinking of his own passion. "Wow," Lydia said, sneaking another peek at him. "Is your passion like motivational speaking or something because you're really good!" "Oh, no." Bale blushed slightly. He rubbed the back of his neck. "My passion is dancing. I'm a Danseur. Which is to say, a male ballerina." He lifted his chin high. "I don't care what people say, ballet isn't just for women!" "Gosh, I hate when people say certain stuff are only for women or men too. It's annoying." Lydia said, rolling her eyes. "That's cool you do that. Have you danced since you were young?" Bale smiled brightly. This girl was turning out to be perfect inside as well as out. "Yes. My mother was an instructor for years. I've been dancing since I could stand." He looked down at her. "So, since your an animal lover, does that mean you're also a vegetarian?" "I would be, but I have a lot of food allergies and meat is one of the main foods I can eat. Only do organic though." Lydia said. "It's just something I've had to learn to live with." "Well that's depressingly unperfect." He said with sympathy. They make it to aisle nine and find the janitor with another guy, finishing his cleaning. "Chunk? Was it? We could use your help in the pet department." Bale says. "Lots of dead animals and what-not."
"Bad, bad, bad, good, bad, bad, good, good, bad, bad, bad, ugh, really bad, good, bad, bad…" Ivan roamed the aisles, pushing a shopping cart, dumping every damaged or expired piece of merchandise she could find. She hadn't even searched a third of the store yet and was already estimating that 70% of the things she found were spoiled rotten, empty packages opened by dishonest customers, or battered to the point that they couldn't sell them. She had already filled one cart and pushed it to the back. There would probably four or five more full carts before she finished the entire store. "Wouldn't drink that if I were you, Pinky," she said as she passed a girl with colorful hair, eying a suspicious carton of milk. Rather than stop and collect the chocolate yogurt, Ivan continued on. They were only about forty-five minutes from opening time and this place still needed a lot of work before it was ready to receive customers. Meanwhile she secretly eavesdropped on the sappy soap opera bullshit going in the pet department, three aisles over. Ugh, I think I'm gonna puke, she thought as she listened to them talk about hopes and dreams and other American propaganda nonsense. She waited until she heard them leave, then deviated from her planned route, straight into the pet department. "Big fucking deal about nothing," Ivan muttered as she opened the nearest cage and began chucking gerbil corpses into her cart, right next to the other ruined merchandise. The survivors cowered near the back, fearing for their lives.
Two new people had arrived. Teddy waited for a moment, but finally felt it was right to stand, especially now there was some sort of SnD congregation happening. "Chunk? Was it? We could use your help in the pet department." said the new guy. "Lots of dead animals and what-not." Awww no way. "That's a bummer dude," Teddy started, putting out his hand as if to spout some great philosophical knowledge, staring at the pair through his Ray-Bans. "But you know what they say..." He continued starring at them waiting for the pair to fill in the next part. It was clearly so obvious, yet they said nothing, which caught Teddy off guard - enough to forget what he was going to say. Still holding his hand out in the air and starring, the situation was becoming increasingly awkward for Bane and Lydia but Teddy did not twig, still deep in thought. Eureka! "Lion King." That was all Teddy said. He seemed pleased with his answer, showing a toothy grin through his beard. The philosophical hand went back into the cereal and he threw individual marshmallows into his mouth with a surprising amount of accuracy. "Circle of life and all that. 'cept when Scar's a dick... man, you gotta hate that lion." He starred at the pair once more.
A busy Russian blur swept past Georgette as she tentatively sniffed the chocolate drink "Wouldn't drink that if I were you, Pinky,” and careered off down the aisle. Georgette wondered if the chocolate and stale croissant had masked the taste of gone off milk. Either way, she quickly scanned the area and propped the bottle up on a nearby shelf and scuttled away from the scene of the crime. She really needed to find something to do. She hadn't taken the interview all that seriously- if you couldn't get a job at Shop'n'Drop there was something seriously wrong with you- they were rumoured to recruit serial killers and crazy ex secret service people and all sorts. Was it pets? There had been a weird conversation about cats, so Georgette decided that was maybe the best, and easiest, place to look busy until she sussed the place out. As she approached the saw the Russian blur muttering angrily and hurling scrappy bits of fur into the already full shopping cart. She skirted round to the cash register and pulled herself up to sit on the counter, only then noticing the odd odour that seemed to rise in the area. "Urgh, kinda smells like the bathroom at Fatfox's Pizza over here."
Pinky strolled into the pet department and took a seat on the counter. Ivan watched her from the corner of her eye, but remained focused on cleaning out the gerbil cage. The dead bodies were all piled in her cart. Now she was just gathering up the… leftovers. Ugh… "Urgh, kinda smells like the bathroom at Fatfox's Pizza over here," Pinky said. "Really? 'Cuz it smells like dead gerbil to me," Ivan said as she scooped up a handful of claw and fur and bone and dumped it into a plastic bag. She had begun the job without gloves but slipped on a pair of yellow hazmat mitts shortly before Pinky arrived. "I've heard dead people smell worse," she added. "Not that I'd know. I'm usually gone 'fore they start to stink." She paused. Probably shouldn't have said that. Change the subject! "I could go for some Fatfox," she said with a nervous laugh. "Maybe I'll order a couple for lunch. Wanna pitch in a few bucks?" Because that's what normal employees do, right, order pizza for everyone… and not talk about homicide scenes.
Georgette fiddled with one of her bracelets. The conversation had taken a slightly bizarre turn but the mention of pizza perked her up. She smiled and nodded. “Sure, pizza would be cool.” If anything, she liked the Russian's dreadlocks and was still hungry after her unsatisfying scavenged breakfast. “Dead gerbils huh?” she said, watching bits of gunk and sticky fur plop into the cart. A bit tumbled down and splattered against the floor. At least there wouldn't be much to do with most of the animals dead, she thought grimly. “I guess I should...do...something. Disinfectant?” she was about to hop back off the counter but a scuffling box caught her attention. She poked it, and watched the cardboard shudder. “What's this?” She lifted the box up and opened the top flaps. Inside, an angry and tattered little rodent glared back at her. “Err, hi there...” she said, tipping the box closer to take a better look, then called over to the Russian girl. “This one isn't dead?” The rodent sprung at her face and smacked into her forehead, snuffling and grunting in abject fury. Georgette squealed. Flinging the box in the air her legs tipped backwards over her head and she fell from the counter with a thump.
Ivan put the clean-up job on hold for a moment to inspect the raw, natural beauty of a gerbil skull, picked clean by an army of Shop'N'Drop cockroaches. The gleaming white bone was actually quite beautiful in its elegance. Might make a nice necklace if she mounted it on a chain… "This one isn't dead," Pinky said. "Hammers, aisle ten. Rat poison, aisle three," Ivan said, paying the girl no mind. "Quick 'n dirty or slow n' clean. Take yer pick." Seconds later, there was a squeal and a loud thump as the pink-haired girl fell from her perch. Whether that sound had come from Georgette or the furious ball of fur assaulting her head was anyone's guess. With a sigh, Ivan gently set down the skull, careful not to break it, then walked over to her distressed co-worker, knelt down, and grabbed the gerbil -- and a fistful of Georgette's hair… which turned out to be real. Well, today was just full of surprises. "I think he likes pink," Ivan said once she'd separated the screeching menace from its victim. She held it at arm's length, ignoring its futile attempts to scratch and nip at her rubber-gloved hands. "So, this little bastard thinks he's in charge, huh? Thinks he can fuck with my people? I say we rip his freaking head off and mount it on a pike, in case any of these other little shits get any wise ideas." The gerbil suddenly stopped moving, though its beady little eyes quivered with fear. "What you think, Pinky?" she said, watching the girl from the corner of her eye. "Pet-Girl's too soft, no? She already put him in solitary," she nodded to the box. "That ain't work. Next up: death row. There's a new warden in town."
"Not this one," Chunk said, snatching the rodent from her hands. Holding it by the scruff of its neck, listening to it shriek, he grabbed a Happy Meal shaped box labeled Live Animals and threw it inside. "Think I'll keep it. I like the crazy ones. Maybe that's why I like you," he said to Ivan with a cold smile.
“I’m glad to see you’re all getting along.” Garrison said seemingly materializing out of thin air behind the gathered group. He frowned for a brief second at cages that belonged to the now dead animals but it quickly returned once he began addressing the new workers again. "Who knew me forgetting to feed the animals would bring us all closer together." He laughed. "The store will be opening soon now and I think because of our great teamwork so far we should join hands for a prayer to wish us luck." Garrison gently closed his eyes putting his hands in prayer motion. “Rub a dub dub, thanks for the grub, YAY GOD!" He sighed producing his flask and taking a sip again. "Oh my apologies." He said with a chuckle. "Would anyone like to try some my prison hooch?"
Lydia continued to stare back at the overweight man as she had for the last few minutes he'd spoke...barely. His long pauses, crunch of dehydrated marshmallows, and Lion King discussion was enough to make her eyes glaze over and rosebud lips part open in a confused daze. She hadn't even noticed the janitor had left them, that is until a shout that sounded a lot like 'Yay God' pulled her out of her current state. Lydia ended the staring contest and turned to look at Bale who had an equally perplexed expression. "Yeah, you're right," she finally said to the man. "I hate Scar too." She couldn't believe what she was saying. Was this guy's dumbness contagious or something?! "Anyway...um," Lydia muttered, warily glancing at the Lucky Charms box in his hand. "I'm Lydia, what's your name?"
"Oh yes, Garrison. Ivan here seems a bit uptight--wanted to kill one of the rodents who has been driven mad by the lack of food and water. Seems she could use a drink to calm her nerves."
Seeing Lydia, Chunk turned and walked briskly away. She and Lucky Charms, it seemed were having a conversation about...the Lion King? "Yeah, you're right," she finally said to the man. "I hate Scar too." "Lydia!" He hissed, trying to keep his voice from being heard by Garrison and the others. His Jedi mind trick on Ivan had been a calculated risk. What he'd said had been true. He did like her. But she was one crazy ass bitch, and it was always the crazy ones who fucked you over in the end, wasn't it? "Lydia, what is going on? This place is insane. Charlie's Angels? Dead animals? Lucky Charms? Drinking hooch on the job? This place is doomed."
Georgette rubbed her head, which was sore from the fall and also from the insane gerbil that had tried to burrow into her skull. Had it ripped some of her hair out? She frantically tried to feel if a patch was missing but it didn’t seem to have done too much damage. She glared at the Happy Meals box where her attacker was now housed. Thankfully, it's new owner didn’t have any hair to latch onto. She looked up at Garrison, who had emerged again to rally his troops with the offer of a prayer and booze. “That little fucker better pray it never sees me again or it will be a hammer,” she muttered angrily and took the flask from him. It was too early for hard liquor but her ordeal had left her shaky. She took a quick swig, it was hot and sour and made her face contort. She handed it across to her saviour. She was Russian; she probably drank vodka for breakfast. “Thanks,” she said with a nod. “Pizza is on me, I think.” She withdrew her hand from her head and found a tiny dot of blood on her finger tip. Then, with a deep frown she asked, “Can you get rabies from gerbils?”
Before Lydia could reply, the girl who had been bitten spoke up. “That little fucker better pray it never sees me again or it will be a hammer. Can you get rabies from gerbils?” Chunk raced back to retrieve his new gerbil. "No. Not these anyway. They're totally safe. Had Garrison been taking care of them," he shot the incompetent manager a look of contempt, "they wouldn't be suffering the physical, physiological, and psychological effects of dehydration and starvation. That's what led to his psychotic behavior. He's lucky he survived at all. The rest of the animals, I'm sure, are in a similar state of shock." He collected the cardboard box containing his sick gerbil and looked back at the girl. "I suggest you focus on saving them before they die as well." With that, Chunk took his sick gerbil and left the store.
"Yay, he quit," Ivan said as she watched Chunk leave the store. "Now we drink." She downed the last of Gary's juice and handed the empty flask to him. "I hate snitches. I hate people who throw up on my fucking floor. Hope he comes back for his paycheck; I got a .38 severance package for him." She took out her own vial of vodka and took another swig; much better than that weak swill Gary was passing around. Ivan muttered something in Russian then began to shuffle away, pushing her cart of damaged goods. "Hope that gerbil crawls up his ass… Pinky, handle the bird cages, or am I the only one who's gonna do work 'round here!"
“Pinky, handle the bird cages, or am I the only one who's gonna do work 'round here!" snapped the Russian, her eyes darkened as she made not so empty threats against the now AWOL janitor. “Sure, bird cages,” Georgette nodded, looking at the feathery mess above her. It was the heavy burden born by those in the pet department, apparently. “No problemo. I’ll be back. Just going to go find some gloves. Maybe that other girl is around somewhere, too.” She spun round and headed towards the back room. Her nails were perfectly groomed gleaming black with silver tips, no way was she going to risk them getting chipped on dead birds. As she made her way into the back room she saw the Lucky Charms thief, sitting and engaging in some strange starring contest with Bale and the pretty girl he’d ran off to help. That box of cereal was still clamped to his hand and bits of green clover crumb stuck to his chin. “Hello again,” Georgette smiled at Bale as she walked past to a sink area above a cupboard. Rooting around for a minute, she came across a pair of yellow washing up gloves. They were grubby and cracking but they’d protect her nails, and then picked up a quarter-full bottle of disinfectant and a semi usable scrubbing brush. “Soooo….” she said as she snapped on the gloves. “You guys are missing one hell of a party in the pet department. It’s OK though. Well…not ok.” She frowned and shuddered at the thought of the zombie-rodent biting her scalp and scurrying through her hair. “The janitor stole a pyschotic gerbil. But other than that, it’s OK.”
"I am Mufasa." Teddy stood dead straight and pushed out his chest proudly. "I am King of all Lions." After holding his breath for a while, Teddy puffed his cheeks out and laughed lazily, allowing his gut to hang. "Jokes." Again, Teddy had forgotten her question. Noting his theme of Disney movies he laughed again, not really contemplating the other people around him. The new pair seemed cool enough, Lydia was pretty awesome and the dude... well the dude Teddy didn't want to stand next to, in fear of accentuating his girth. But yea, the dude seemed cool enough. "I'm Teddy by the by, huggable, lovable and all round IT nerd." Rather than shake his grubby hand with the pair, Teddy wiped it on his lab coat and felt it right to just give them a nod and a salute, in case people weren't the touchy-feely kind. He'd have to work his way up to the friendly bear hug. Hmmph. Bears aren't friendly. "Ha." He snorted a little. A thought popped into his head. "Do you guys work in furniture? I could use a couple of office chairs, if you have any spare?" At that time another girl walked past with striking pink hair. "The janitor stole a pyschotic gerbil. But other than that, it's OK." She said as she put on cleaning gloves. Teddy looked at her a little dumbfounded and pointed to his forehead. "Hey blood head girl, you got blood on your head. Also do you have spare office chairs?"
CUSTOMERS!! Once the chaotic of the gerbil situation died down and time began to roll on. The group had to quickly scramble together to an attempt a proper opening. And even once the sliding doors were unlocked and the new employees set up shop…..the only customers were amoeba. Garrison is his infinite wisdom had remained calm as ever at the ghost of the store his boss had been expecting him to run now that they had a staff on hand. The senior employee had been sleepily watching Ivan fix the break room she'd torn to pieces. His drool leaking on the table every time he'd doze off. --- When a few customers finally did arrive, five in total there was no friendly greeting or a bright smile but instead the smell of death still hanging in the air and one of the women who'd gone into the food aisles swore she smelled spoiled milk coming from one of the shelves. It had been a nerve wracking four hours without a single soul and now.....well the store itself was doing it best to drive the possible consumers away but others seemed to pay no mind to the terrible odor or the simple feeling of dread that screamed "I'm a failure at life!" That it gave off. For example a man in his late forties and a long trench coat was busy browsing around the toy section, looking at a few things but mostly whistling an annoying tune. Then there was a woman who was in hysterics and screaming for employee help claiming she'd been attacked, she was frantically moving her stubby legs to the front of the store, various cuts and bruises on her which was drawing the attention of the other three customers. Including the lady who liked she was about to barf after taking a whiff of the bad produce and two teens who'd be chattering non stop with one another up until now about if they saw some kinda giant fish skulking around the in back of the store.
Target sighted. Aisle fourteen. Caucasian male, average build, long trenchcoat. Age… too damn old to be browsing the toy section. Caution! Possible shoplifter! Caution! Ivan trailed the suspect, following him in the adjacent aisle, watching through the shelves. She studied every move he made, every step, every turn, every toy he picked up and put down. When she was satisfied she’d gathered enough intelligence, she swooped in for the kill, quickening her steps so she would meet him just as he reached the end of the aisle. She seemed to come out of nowhere. The man gasped when he suddenly found himself face to face with a bright-eyed employee of this fine establishment, eager to fulfill his every shopping need. “Hello, sir, welcome to Shop’N’Drop. How may help you?” Ivan said, standing straight as a board, with her hands clasped behind her back. “You like toy department, no? Tell Ivan what you need. I show you much toys for plenty fun.” The man looked very confused. Ivan suddenly became sad. “Oh, me so sorry. Ivan’s English not so good, but she try hard, yes. Anything for customer! How may Ivan help customer today?” Retail rule number one: customers buy more when they feel sorry for the employees. Oh, I’m just a poor Russian girl, fresh off the refugee boat from Siberia. Look, I can barely speak English. But if you buy LOTS OF STUFF it will improve my quality of life… even though I’m not paid on commission. Works every time. “You like Barbie doll, yes?” she said, guiding the poor American schmuck back into the aisle. “Look here, many Barbies. Buy Ken, too. Make happy American family!”
