《Short Fiction, with a twist!》


 Opening Shift

    This was going to take not giving a shit to a new level. Fred looked at the orders sheet from corporate. It looked like they wanted nothing more than to pretend that the economy was still in one piece and they still made some money.


    Sighing, Fed set the sheet down. The office he was standing in didn''t really belong to anyone, but the staff was required to come in and do some reports every day. On yet another day, the store was understaffed by people who didn''t know how much effort was required to do the jobs they asked for. He hurriedly filled out some reports, showing he did close out the safe correctly, watch the cameras, and pulled some boxes from the back. Finally, he went out and pulled the lever behind the counter. It was big and silver with a red handle. It could have come from a cartoon, it was so out of place on the wall. Fred hung out while registers came online, avoiding the eyes of the customers outside the store.


    "The store opens at 10, they can just freaken wait." Fred mumbled to himself. It probably wasn''t smart, the systems were coming online, and the mics could come online at any point. The high-pitched dings of the registers sounded as they came online one after the other. Fred quickly wound his way out from behind the counter, it wasn''t goo


    d for him to stay back there. He checked his watch, looking to see how much time he had. The time said 9:57, just enough for him to run down a few aisles making sure there was nothing on the floor. He would never hear the end of it if a customer got stuck halfway through the store. The loss in profits alone would endanger his job.


    <hr>


    Rushing back to the front, Fred looked out at the cashiers. They stared at him blankly, as usual. The lights from the register screens illuminated the counter in front of each cashier, ready to be used when ever. He sighed, ready to open the store. He walked up front and popped the door open with his key. The customers rushed in as a single file, each stopping at a seemingly random spot and grabbing the weirdest things. Fred sighed, heading into the aisles proper. At least the customer''s would only bother him around the front desk, which was how corporate wanted it.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    He was half way through housewares when the intercom started dinging. "Supervisor toRegister 3, Supervisor toRegister 3." The prerecorded messages set his teeth on edge, but it was Fred''s call to action as it were. He turned towards the front end.


    As Fred arrived, he saw the mess building at the register. The customer just kept putting products down on the counter, without regard for what the cashier was doing as normal. The cashier''s hand was not functioning, and was struggling with a large box of diapers as it turned out. The tone deaf cries of "Please forgive me, a supervisor will take care of you whenhearrives." and "Please hurry up, I have other places to be today." were blaring from the the pair of them, while the rest of the store ran like clockwork.


    Fred swung around the counter, grabbing the box of diapers out of the cashiers hand while inspecting it. The hand would need to be repaired quick or he would be in trouble. Quickly, he processed the customer''s transaction. Finally, he turned the lights on the register off. signaling the other customers to find another register. The customer thanked him while moving away "Thank you so much,Sir, you are much more competent than your staff." Fred watched the customer leave with its purchases, steel body moving quickly to the next store, along its track. He turned back to the cashier who now hung limply to the side. Pulling of the machines hand, he opened the drawer underneath. Pulling out another hand Fred attached it, and turned the mess back online. The Automation of everything was a pain but he at least had a job. Sighing, Fred headed back to the aisles to avoid work until something else broke down.

 Writers Block

    Elliot put on his writer''s mask and glared at the computer monitor. The text cursor blinked in and out of existence, demanding additions to his opus. Squinting, he typed in a small bit ¡°The man reached for the pistol, his hand shaking.¡± Sighing, Elliot deleted the words. All the text tonight was just coming out crap after all. Leaning back, he pushed the chair back and spun it around. Maybe the nausea would give him some inspiration.


    <hr>


    The chair slowed to a stop facing the wall of book selves. Elliot sat up and leaned forward. Maybe he could get some inspiration from a real author. Standing up, he steadied himself on the desk. Stretching his back, he felt the lingering effects of the spin work themselves away. Elliot crossed the room and pulled the first book he saw off the shelf.


    The book weighed heavily in his hands. A collection of stories of Heinlein¡¯s, bound by leather with gold leaf text. The collection wasn¡¯t a rare book, though Elliot claimed it to be the best book in his collection. He thumbed through the pages, stopping on several of the stories. The stories screamed out to be read, demanding he stop skimming the pages. He continued to turn the pages, nothing inside the tome getting his attention. Sighing Elliot put the book back on the shelf, and looked around for another.


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Turning back to face the screen, Elliot blinked. The book didn''t look to be getting any more done tonight. He saved and quit, standing up to leave the room. The bookshelf taunted him again, "I was always told to beware becoming the mask. What do I do when when that''s all I want, and it doesn''t happen?" Its possible the liquor cabinet would know the answer.


    The cabinet stood empty, he drank it all last night apparently. Elliot couldn''t be sure whether the blackout drinking or that it happened more and more frequently alarmed him more. "I suppose the cabinet gave me my answer. No retreating from this tonight." Since additions to the manuscript were a no go tonight, he could at least actually read something to ease his mind.