If it's a difficult spill, and you're all alone...
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If it's a difficult spill, and you're all alone...
It’s a lemon.
Flash Sentry held the little citrus fruit in his hand, studying it with the dedication of a scholar examining an ancient text.
For cripes sake, Flash, it’s a lemon. An ordinary, run-of-the-mill lemon. No matter how long you stare at it, nothing’s going to happen.
‘Shhhh”. Flash hushed the voice in his head. “There’s something off about this one.”
Flash, buddy, I know your manager, whatever he is, told you to check the produce aisle and all, but this is going too far. You’ve been poking and prodding that lemon for the last five minutes. Nothing’s happened.
Flash’s disassociated brain had a point. The lemon looked perfectly normal. The wrinkled, scaly rind was unblemished. There wasn’t a single spot or blemish on its hide. That’s what made him suspicious.
“I’ve got a feeling about this one.”
“Feeling. You have a ‘feeling’” Flash’s brain paused for a moment. Tell me Flash, if your feelings told you to bash your head against a brick wall, would you do it? If your precious feelings told you to throw yourself off a cliff, would you do it? If your feelings-
Before Flash’s brain could finish its rant, the lemon shuddered. A bump appeared underneath its skin, moving around rapidly. The teen smirked. Gotcha
A seam appeared along the lemon’s length, opening to reveal a disturbingly human eye, staring at Flash in apparent confusion.
“And you thought you could attain sapience without me knowing.” Flash gave a self-satisfied smirk. “Not on my watch”. He said, walking over to a chute mounted in the wall. The lemon looked at Flash, its two rind-brow shot open. Almost as if it was afraid.
“Sorry little guy. Rules are rules.” With that, Flash tossed the newly-awakened fruit into the chute. There was a flash of light, followed by a blast of intense heat and the acrid smell of burnt citrus fruit.
“And done!” Flash said, smoothing his navy blue hair and dusting off his hands. He smoothed a wrinkle out of his apron.
That lemon just grew an eye.
“ And…?”
That lemon. Just grew. A fully functional. Human eye. And you’re perfectly okay with this?
Flash frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“Flash, can you do me a favor?”
“Sure!”
I want you to take a good, long look at this place.
“Why?”
Just humor me.
“Okay okay.” Flash stopped for a moment, drinking in the store.
The Store was busy, as always.
In the produce aisle, two kids kept tossing wadded-up balls of paper into the Infinite Watermelon, watching them tumble into the wet, sugary abyss, while their mother stocked up on self-replicating oranges and tomalgatoes. By the drinks cooler, an employee in a hazmat suit waved a Geiger counter over every surface. Behind one of the checkout lines, an employee scanned groceries one at a time. By accident, he scanned his hand, which instantly transformed into a toilet plunger. Frantic, the employee scanned his hand again, transforming it into an ear of corn, a human foot, and a chicken before finally returning to its previous occupation. By the store’s main entrance, a man fed quarter after quarter into the “Butter Frenzy 2’ claw machine. Each time, he’d snag one of the greasy yellow sticks, only for it to slip out of the claw.
“Looks normal to me,” Flash said, then froze. Something was off. He couldn’t quite explain it. It was like some universal constant had suddenly been altered slightly, like pi being rounded down a little or the speed of light being altered by a few kph.
There was only one explanation. He turned around. “Oh, hi Mr. [REDACTED]”
“ Hello there, employee F’lash Sen-Tree. '' Mr. [REDACTED]said without moving his lips. His disturbingly bald head tilted slightly to the side as if it wasn’t fully attached to his neck.
“How is/was your first week?”
“Oh, it’s great, Mr. [REDACTED]!”
He wasn’t lying. This job had been a goddess-send for him. He’d just walked in, asked to talk to a manager, and they’d hired him on the spot, no questions asked! True, he didn’t remember there being a storefront here, or a street, and for he swore this place was larger on the inside than it was on the outside, but aside from that it was perfect!
Something clicked and whirred inside the managers’ head. There was a syrupy, squelching sound in his chest. A seam opened in his uniform and coughed out a sheet of paper.
“That is very unbad, employee F’lash Sen-tree”. He handed Flash the sheet. “ Here are some more tasks for you to not unfinish. Please be unfinishing them by shift-end.”
“Gotcha, boss!” Flash saluted taking the sheet. With that, the manager walked away, still smiling, completely frozen, gliding across the floor as if he had tiny wheels on the bottoms of his shoes.
“Well, let's see..” Flash studied the list, tracing along with a finger. “I need to restock aisle 9 with Emergency clams and cans of Dehydrated Water,
Hey Flash.
“Yeah?”
I hope you never meet your pony-world counterpart.
“Why?”
“Cuz I’m not sure the universe could handle that much stupidity in one place.
Flash frowned.
“Why are you such a jerk?”
Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’m stuck in this prison you call a skull. Maybe it’s every time I try to give you advice, you ignore me. Me, the one thing separating you from the rest of the primates!
“I do not!”
Oh really? Remember when you met that bacon-haired girl who had 'manipulative bitch' written all over her face. Remember how you dated her for two years, even though I was practically screaming at you to dump her?
“That was…”
And do you remember that time you tried snorting a line of cinnamon for a Viewtube challenge? I tried to tell you it was a dumb idea, but you just had to impress your buddies.
“Well, I…”
Oh, and before I forget, do you remember that time a friend told you about a friend who got rich trading bitcoin? I told you that cryptocurrency was a thinly-disguised Ponzi scheme, but did you listen? Nope.
“Okay, so I made a bad choice here and there. That doesn’t mean I don’t listen to you at all.”
Really?
“Really.”
Name one time where you took my advice.
"I…I…"
“Flash Sentry?”
Flash turned around, secretly grateful for the interruption. “Oh, hi, Mrs. C!”
Principal Celestia smiled. “Fancy seeing you here, Flash.” She smoothed her seafoam and aqua bands, plucking some lint off her turtleneck sweater. Her very tight turtleneck sweater.
Flash…
Can’t talk. See sweater.
Flash, I know you’re a teenager and all, but, you’re on the clock.
Flash shook his head. Damn hormones.
“Uh, yeah, I started about a week… ago.”
The second the words left his mouth, Flash stopped. Was it a week ago? He suddenly remembered working here when he was a little kid, barely tall enough to push a shopping cart. then, he’d only been there a day. The next, he somehow had memories of himself working there as an old man, arthritis racking his body as he pushed his wrinkly frame through the aisles.
Was time real? Was causality just an illusion created by our minds in an attempt to make sense of an inherently illogical universe?.
“Flash?”
“Oh, sorry. Just kinda, spaced out there!” Flash chuckled softly. “So, how are you doing, Miss C?”
“Pretty good. I’m just here to pick up a few items," She put a hand on her shapely hips. "What about your Flash? How do you like your new job?"
“Oh, it’s great! I get fifteen quatloos an hour, vacation days, and full medical, dental, and psychokinetic benefits!”
“I…see. Anyway, can you help me with something?”
“Anything!”
Celestia dug into her shopping bag and dug out a bottle with a spray nozzle attached to it. “It has to do with this”
“Oh, that’s our Power Wings multi-purpose formula. It takes the rust off of steel, kills ants, and goes great on chicken!”
“Yes, can you tell me what this label means?” She tapped a finger on the “Nationally Localized” label.
“Uh…” Flash gulped. Blood began to curdle in his veins. Quick. The training video. What did they say about this in the training video? “Uh…yes?”
Celestia raised an eyebrow. “You…didn’t answer my question. Was this product made locally or out of state?”
“Uh…uh….” Flash squirmed, racking his mind. C’mon brain, work with me.
No.
C’mon brain.
No. Figure it out yourself.
Flash frowned. Alright, if that was the way his brain wanted to play…Help me out or I’ll go on social media tonight and read comments. Nothing. But. Comments.
You wouldn’t
Try me.
Fine, Fine. Remember what they said in the training video about “difficult customers”
Flash racked through his memories. Of course!
“Uh, congratulations!” He said, reaching into his apron and pulling out a golden coupon emblazoned with an upside-down horseshoe. “You’ve just won a complementary customer appreciation voucher, good for 50% off any purchase.”
“Uh, thanks!” Celestia said, taking the coupon and walking off, a confused expression on her face.
“Phew. “ Flash leaned against a shelf, wiping his brow. “That was a close one.
As if on cue, a bottle of Powdered Moth Milk” on the shelf behind him suddenly sprouted eyes, arms, and legs.
“Existence is meaningless! Entropy will consume us all in the end!” It squeaked... “Goodbye cruel world!” With that, the little bottle picked itself up and hurled itself off the shelf, smashing itself to pieces on the floor below.
Great. Flash groaned. Third spontaneous sapience event this week.
I’m surprised you even know what that is.
Shut up, brain. Flash thought making his way to the supply room. Let's see… If it’s a wet spill, use a magenta cone. For a dry spill…
“Use an orange cone!” Flash exclaimed, picking up an orange cone and plopping it down in front of the spill. One quick trip later he fetched a broom and a dustpan. Alright spill, time to get Flashed
You really need a better catchphrase.
Before the bristles could even touch the spill, the little pile of powdered moth secretions began to melt. Powder and glass flowed like water, forming a cloudy puddle of molten milk and liquified glass on the floor.
Pretty sure that’s not supposed to happen. Flash said to himself
As Flash watched, color began to play over the mess. Bands of orange. Waves of blinding violet. Flashes of brilliant blorkle. Slowly, it started rising into the air, forming into a perfect sphere.
Yep, definitely not supposed to happen Well, it wasn’t a dry spill anymore. Definitely wasn’t a wet spill.
What was the protocol for this again?
Nope. Not this time.
ViewTube comments
Forget it. I’ve had it. Do you want advice? Ask your stomach. You actually pay attention to him!
The sphere erupted with a flash of painfully bright light. Blinking away spots, Flash saw points of light floating through the sphere, slowly growing in number, arranging themselves into miniature constellations.
Time began to run sideways. A kid wearing an orange parka panicked as his head suddenly detached from his body and started floating around. “Not again!” He yelled as his headless body gave chase. A woman pushing a shopping cart screamed as the cart and her groceries turned to liquid and started to flow all over the floor like hot fudge. The air smelled of ozone and blue.
C’mon Flash think! He thought, racking his brain as the mess started playing a game of cat's cradle with spacetime. Gravity started going haywire. Items floated off of shelves. The floor tiles beneath Flash floated up into the air, gravity shaping them into an impossible planetoid that began to orbit the spill.
There was a cone, he knew that, but what color?
Please, Brain?
No
Please? Super pretty please?
His brain groaned. Fine. I’ll help, but first, I need you to do something. It’s very important.
What?
Hit yourself in the head.
Why?
Trust me.
Okay then. Flash grabbed a can of Organic Pork Chaff ™, took a deep breath, and rammed it against his head.
A little more.
Again, Flash rammed the can against his head.
A Teensy bit more.
Flash compiled. Stars danced before his eyes, then flew away to join the celestial dance.
Has that, helped you remember any memories? Flash groaned.
No, but it did make me feel better.
What?!
Calm down. I’ll tell you. Do you remember that weird, off-white color?
“That’s it!” Now he remembered. For a difficult spill, use an ecru cone!
“That’s a good boy. Now, let us skedaddle over to the supply closet
Got it. Flash said, dashing through the chaos that his workplace had become. Cartons of milk flew past him, stretching themselves into tendrils of cardboard and calcium. A herd of now-sapient lemons rolled on across the tiled plains, led by an orange with eight, spider-like legs. A flock of soda bottles flitted by.
Finally, Flash reached the supply closet. Or rather, the four-dimensional tesseract which used to be the supply closet
Good thing the store has a protocol for this. Flash thought, remembering the specific part of the employee manual regarding 4-dimensional navigation.
No store should have a protocol for this. His brain said as Flash jumped into the cube, emerging in an impossible, sanity-melting labyrinth.
Let's see. Flash said, performing moves no three-dimensional creature should have known. He moved up, down, left and right, ana and kata until he finally found one of the off-white cones. There was a slight problem: it and the rest of the cones had stacked themselves into a multi-colored monstrosity.
The Cone beast opened its cone-maw and roared.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
No problem. Flash cracked his knuckles, lowered his head, and charged into the plastic mass.
The cone-beast lashed out with a plastic tentacle. Flash vaulted over the appendage and plowed into the coney mass. The beast gave out a final roar, then exploded, scattering cones everywhere.
“You just got Flashed!” Flash exclaimed.
You need a better catchphrase
What’s wrong with it?
…Never mind. Now how about that cone?
Right. Looking around, Flash grabbed the nearest ecru cone he could find and retraced his steps towards the exit.
When he jumped back into the store, it was no longer recognizable as a store. Or any kind of structure. Instead, it was a seemingly endless expanse of constantly-shifting colors, shapes, and tastes. Products, customers, and employees alike orbited the spill. Some of them clumped together, forming planetoids of foodstuffs and hapless customers. One customer clutched her stomach, then threw up a glittering spray of stars. Principal Celestia’s head unraveled like a ball of yarn, revealing a miniature solar system where her cranium used to be. The only solid ground was a small patch of floor underneath the spill, an island in a sea of insanity.
Pushing off with his legs, Flash launched himself towards the center of the spill. He landed on one of the planets, apologizing as he pushed off someone's face. From there, he leaped to a floating candy shelf, where armies of gummy worms dueled snarling gummy bears, then onto a cluster of shopping carts twisting itself into a hypersphere. He pushed himself off, bouncing off one impossible object after another before finally, he reached the island.
Like a man about to slay a vampire, Flash raised the cone above his head. Reality twisted itself around him. For a moment he was Flash Sentry, then he was a 72-dimensional creature thinking about Flash Sentry, then he was a plastic doll being carried by a humanoid cone creature, enclosed in brightly-colored packaging, his name emblazoned with a ™.
For a moment, reality stabilized. Flash was Flash once again. Quickly, before reality could shift again, he planted the cone on the island.
There was a flash of light. Flash blinked, clearing spots from his eyes. Everything was back to normal. The spill was nothing but a black puddle. The endless expanse was gone. All products were back on their shelves. Customers were put back together again. The parka-wearing kid gave his head a few gentle tugs, just to make sure it was still in place. Principal Celestia picked herself up, rubbing her head and muttering “I’m getting too old for this”.
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you did good Flash.
Thanks.
Now, maybe you should consider putting in your two weeks notice. Maybe you could ask your old girlfriend if that sushi restaurant she works at is–
Not now. I’m still on the clock. Flash returned to the list. Right, let's start with refilling the SlurpZone machine.
His brain groaned. Why couldn’t I have been your liver instead?
Author's Note
My sincerest apologies to MeowWolf.
