Going To The Pokemon Symphonic Evolutions Thing Tomorrow Night, Gotta Dress Like A Baws.

Going to the Pokemon Symphonic Evolutions thing tomorrow night, gotta dress like a baws.

where is the fiction

Retail Gothic

A customer pleads to be let in after closing time. They only need one item. They only ever need one Item.

A customer is looking for an item. You do not sell the item. You have never sold the item. You do not know what the item is.

An item does not scan. “It must be free” the customer jokes. You look at them, their mouth hangs open as they laugh. They have too many teeth. 

You ask your colleague how their day is going. They look back at you their eyes hollow and devoid of hope. You nod in understanding. No more is said.

A security barrier goes off. You look around but there is nobody there. There is just noise.

You say good morning to a customer. You hope it is still morning. You are no longer sure how time works. 

Colleagues  disappear as they move on to better things. You do not know where they go but sometimes you see them months later. Their eyes are bright and their smiles real. You know better than to question these things.

There is a man. He comes in every Wednesday. You have never seen him buy anything.

You see an actor from that happy show years before. They are looking at deodorant. They look sad. 

You go to the stockroom to find an item. You look around but there is nothing. The system says you have thirty two. The system always say you have thirty two.

You walk through the warehouse. All you can see in every direction is Christmas trees. It is July.

They ask to speak to a manager. You look around- there are no managers. you cannot remember the last time you saw a manager. What does a manager look like? 

If every sperm is sacred then my bed sheets can be considered holy shrouds.

:3

for the record this is how ridiculous pro life people sound

HOLD THE FUCK UP

DID THEY JUST RIDGE RACER IN FORZA

Conquer the rain. Conquer the night. Conquer the road. Forza 6 has arrived.