Caffeine and Magix

magicmumu:

matt-the-blind-cinnamon-roll:

jumpingjacktrash:

citizen-zero:

tbh I’d love a horror-comedy about a retail worker accidentally becoming a ghost/demon hunter because they’re just so unfazed by difficult and weird and bellicose customers that evil entities aren’t much more of a challenge.

“sir or ma'am or neuter, I’m going to have to ask you to stop crawling on the ceiling, you’re disturbing the other residents”

“please leave this place before I call the exorcist to remove you from the premises”

“company policy forbids me from accepting power from customers in exchange for my soul or firstborn child”

“sir, if you keep speaking to me like that, I’m going to have to end this spirit board conversation. have a good day, goodbye”

the walls start weeping blood. our hero gives a long-suffering sigh, walks away, comes back with a wheelie mop bucket and biohazard gloves. hey, it’s better than bathrooms on the overnight shift, at least blood’s not smelly when it’s fresh.

After facing Karen of the Many Coupons and Screaming Children, Asgortoh the Reaper of the Damned is no contest.

at least it pays more than minimum wage

As per usual, it starts from spite. Keely got two write ups (one for being late, the other for yelling a guest that they can’t fish the ice out of her drink) and she’s wondering if she’s going to jump ship before the third or rode this one out. Career-wise, it’d be smart to find a new place before her glowing recommendation turns into a hell-ish one, but on the other…

Well, on the other, this place sucks biscuits and any amount of grief she can cause is a huge plus.

“I need you to stop saying no to customers,” her manager says. “Just for today, I need you to say yes and accommodate customers in any way you can.”

Keely stares at him. “Or else it’s a write up?”

He nods, exhaustion like claw marks under his eyes. “Or else it’s a write up.”

Okay then.

————

“Can you take the cheese out of the quesadilla?”

“But then it’s just going to be a toasted tortilla.”

“I don’t like cheese.”

Keely breathes deeply. “Sounds good.”

She pretends not to hear their offended Gasp when they’re confronted with a plain tortilla.

Of course, she’s the one who has to remake it, so it’s not really a win.

She begins to plot.

——————

She gets through six stupid requests when she’s about had it. She has wiped down a booth three times, floor and seat, for a concerned mother. She has torn the lettuce into smaller chunks for a man who, she sees, just picks them out anyway.

She has modified a burrito so far that it’s just a salad even after telling the customer they should just order a salad.

She is done.

“Remember,” her manager says from the office. “I hear one ‘no’ and you’re out. Today.”

When did he get psychic?

So when The Customer comes up, she’s pretty much ready to do whatever they want to absorb proportions. She’s almost excited for it. Triple the steak? For free?

Of course.

“Hi how are you?” Keely asks.

The woman looks up through greasy hair. “I haven’t slept in three days and my house is haunted.”

Okay. Keely pretends to look through her register. Not the response she expected. “What can I help you with today?”

“Making my house not haunted,” the woman says sarcastically.

Keely freezers. And, look, she’s not Ella enchanted. She doesn’t have to do things no matter what her manager says.

But…

He did say she should say yes the whole day.

An unholy grin sweeps across her face. Second shift won’t be in for an hour. Her manager would have to cover.

“Of course,” she chirps. She whisks off her hat and, when the woman takes a step back In surprise, she swings her legs over the counter and lands silently on the other side. “Let’s go!”

The woman blinks. “ I wasn’t serious, I just—it’s been a long week.”

Keely is already heading for the door. “Anything for our loyal customers! Right, sir?!” She calls to the back.

“Right,” her manager says reflexively. Then, when he sees her booking it, “wait, where are you going?”

“We are doers!” She says and hits the double doors hard enough they both swing out into the wall. “Coming, miss?”

“I, uh, I’m not going to argue?” The woman says, struggling to keep up. She clicks open her car and whimpers when Keely throws that door open too. “Careful, please, this is a Porsche. I really don’t want to go home alone.”

“Great!” Keely buckles her seatbelt. “What type of haunting we talking? Victorian lady? Texas cowboy?”

“The pig demon from that 80s horror, I forget the name,” the woman says flatly. She starts the car with the touch of a button. “Still wanna come home with me?”

Keely, after a moments thought, shrugs. “I had to unclog the toilet last week after customers neglected to tell us it was full of shit for four hours. I’m good.”

The woman nods, unquestioning, and whisks them away just as the manager comes storiming our the front doors.

(via wanderlogged)