your normal cashier, doesnt try to make conversation with you (mentally tries), internally screams when he works the express lane but someone carts up with over 15 items
early morning shift, feels pain when someone takes an item off the shelf and puts it somewhere else bc they dont want it anymore, buys powdered donuts with employee discount
walmart mcdonald's worker with hansol and xero, the customers love him and his smile, has accidentally charged someone with '10' orders of cheeseburgers instead of '01'
greets people when they enter, has to retrieve stray shopping carts from the parking lot, once mistook someone as his mom from behind and felt complete embarassment when he tried to hug them
doesnt get why he works in the home improvement department, during winter wanders around seasonal section to look at christmas lights, doesnt know where everything is so he guesses when customers ask and hopes for the best
helps out in household essentials section, willing to go to the moon and back to get something off the top shelf for a customer, slips his mixtape into their cart when they're not looking bc it's fire and they gotta experience it
movies music & books department worker, when he's sure he's alone he jams out to those music samples even if he only knows two of the artists there, gets distracted by and watches disney movies playing in the tv & video section
fellow cashier, always gotta call up the manager bc he forgets how to work the register, tries to start up small conversation with toddlers to seem cool but fails and parents laugh awkwardly and apologize
used to be walmart mcdonald's now works in sewing crafts and party supplies department, gets excited when kids shyly ask him to get things from higher shelves (even if he struggles sometimes), somehow convinces people to buy more than they need of party supplies
who thought it was a good idea for him to work in the bakery???, doesnt know shit about baking so he just gets people's cake orders and compliments them on their choices (though he'll never know what a chantilly cake is), eats the cookie samples
also a walmart mcdonald's worker, makes customers repeat their order once or twice bc 'did they say twenty orders of five mcnuggets or five orders of twenty mcnuggets' either way it's a lot, has asked a customer 'are you sure' bc they ordered something he doesn't like
stocks shelves in food section, forgets to put things back when they're returned so he ends up carting around a huge stack of fruit rollups and chips for half an hour until he realizes he hasn't done anything, randomly checks the nutrition facts on products just to surprise himself
parking lot cart duty with gohn, takes selfies in the break room while everyone is scarfing down deli sandwiches in the background, found fifty dollars on the ground in the parking lot and made an open announcement on the intercom to find the owner (didnt find them but didnt keep the money either)
Nott M. Portent watched the tea kettle bubbling through his greasy locks, pale lips turned into a frown, as if it was a rainy day and the sun was hiding. The sun was not hiding, but Nott couldn’t tell on account of his greasy locks, so the day may just as well have been rainy, which he pessimistically assumed. He put on an oven mitt and a sunflower apron, retrieving the sugar cookies from the oven.
His husband Duke was sitting in his favorite recliner, puffing on a fat cigar and reading National Geographic. “Tigers are the bomb.” He turned the page. “Nott, those cookies smell bitchin’. What kind are they?”
He gave a low sigh. “The kind is not important… what is important, is where they’re going to go.” He gently pushed the cookies into a plastic tupperware bin, sealing it neatly along the edges, then shuffled back to the counter and began washing his cooking supplies.
Duke looked up from an attractive ad about silver eagle dollars, concerned about his husband. “Hey there, what’s got you all sad and greasy? Let’s see that pale gloomy face I love so much.” He sauntered over, fetching a cookie. “Mmm, damn I love cookies…”
Nott just fuckin hated the world, and the human worms feasting on its carcass. But the love of Duke Nukem stayed his shotgun-hand from shotgunning. He couldn’t even tell Duke how important this was to him. He was not, as Duke was, a master of language. All he could do was try to express his love, as best he could, through cookies and tea.
“Duke it’s just hard being optimistic when people are so terrible… My whole life is just cold bitter hatred.”
Duke munched another cookie and opened the fridge, retrieving the 1-percent milk, which he poured into a quaint cow mug. “Don’t let the world get you down, Nott. If you wanna make an impact, you gotta be loud. I wake up and see the badness and the filth, but I fight back, and I stay as Me as I can possibly be. The world is your skillet: If you wanna make an omelet, you gotta turn the dial up to eleven. Mixing metaphors, taking names, kicking ass, and saving the world. That’s what it’s all about.” He took a loud sip, sliding up behind Nott as he was scrubbing off an egg beater. His free hand wrapped around his waist in half a snuggle.
“No Duke s-stop I’m doing dishes…” Nott cringed a little as color filled his blanched face like rosy watercolors on a fresh canvas.
“I’ll do -your- dishes, baby…” Nott felt the flush rising all across his face to his neck and ears. “No for real you always ambush me when I’m washing the dishes I have so many to do…”
Duke backed off, sighing. “Okay I was just trying to cheer you up…” He finished his milk, putting on his size-13 boots. “I’m going to stomp some aliens, and then I think I’ll buy some movies.” He left the house.
Nott resumed his dish-washing. He had used too much soap and been too distracted. Now the water was tepid and slick, and the foam rose up thickly in the mixing bowl as his brush ran up and down the edges. He let go, watched the scrub brush and bowl sink, feeling that he had gone too far and upset Duke. The terrible isolation crept in, the feeling that his loneliness was complete. The last fragile cable had snapped, nothing kept him in touch with humanity now. For no special reason he took the sugar cookies off of the table, sinking down to the floor, crying his angsty saline tears into them.
With the cookies ruined and the dishes still not done, there was only one thing left to do. He went into his bedroom, sorting through Duke’s things, retrieving the only shotgun available since he had gotten rid of his old one. “This is the time of vengeance and no life is worth saving… I will put in the grave… as many as I can…”
He put on his boots, slammed open the door. Dark clouds whirled overhead, crackling with lightning. It was time for him to kill, and it was time for him to die…
Nerf bullets assailed a thick oak tree in the middle of their yard, discharged from the shotgun. The bullet impact-textures danced around the object as more foam bullets struck, only three were present at any given time.
Nott lifted the garden gnome standing cheerfully in the aloe patch, sat down, and began ramming his pointy head into the fresh mulch, to the tune of heavy metal music from inside his head only. It had begun… he left the gnome sticking hat-deep upside-down in the ground, passed through the yard several times recovering his foam darts. He brushed off bits of grass from each one and began reloading as he stomped out into society.
Nothing was safe. He went into the parking lot of a supermarket, kicking stray shopping carts that careless people hadn’t returned to the designated cart return area, rocking them and pushing them away as startled moms desperately loaded their children and groceries, and drove off recklessly.
He went into a park, began purposely tripping over trash cans with his entire body, tipping them over. He purchased a loaf of bread and returned to the park, wadding bits of bread into dense balls and throwing it to a fluffy white flock of ducks, who eagerly followed each bread ball as it sank down into the pond instead of floating, which it would have, if Nott had not scrunched it up.
He then threw away the bread wrapper in a recycling bin for aluminum only, and took two free newspapers from the front of a store despite the ‘TAKE ONE’ notice.
Citizens knew him, what he could do, and were panicked by his antics. They fled for their lives as he pelted them with all the fury his Nerf darts could convey. A long trail of bright orange darts followed in his wake, absent any blood or bodies from the non-lethal foray, as he Nerfed his way into the city.
Elsewhere, a few hours later, Duke Nukem holstered his weapons, gazing at a street filled with alien goo and alien corpses. “Damn I’m good…” A beautiful babe tried to get his attention, but his loyalty to Nott M. Portent rendered him oblivious to such juicy opportunities for carnal mischief. He walked into the movie store, intent on rewarding himself for such excellent fidelity.
He went immediately to the Action section, giddy as he picked up a 2-in-1 box of the first two Predator movies. “The husband’s gonna love this…” He picked up a few other titles, such as “Army of Darkness,” “Full Metal Jacket,” “DOOM,” and “The Secret Garden.” However, just as he completed his purchase, he heard sirens, saw a panicked civilian carelessly tumble through the glass storefront into a display rack of Blu-ray copies of the movie “300” as streaks of orange flashed by, a furious Nerf barrage.
“Damn, no… it can’t be, we were making such progress…” He ran outside as Nott M. Portent’s genocide crusade rampaged, boots steaming as he pursued the flapping coat-flaps of Nott’s trenchcoat. Police vehicles screeched to a halt across from Nott, who threw a fistful of plastic army soldiers at them. They gasped and ducked as pale and green servicemen scattered across windshields, landing haphazardly on the asphalt. Someone radioed for backup.
Duke hid behind a tree growing out of a median, looking closer as Nott strafed into an alley to reload. He saw the cold sob-tears of genocidal sadness trailing across Nott’s genocidal face. Duke’s ego stung to see his husband in such a dire predicament. Police returned a fierce volley of pistol-fire, which sent bits of rubble flying so thickly that some of them disappeared before they hit the ground, according to the world’s Game Engine’s pre-set limit on the number of rubble objects it could render at any given time.
As the police reloaded, and Nott prepared to fire once more, Duke sprang out. “Wait, let me talk to him.” He approached Nott.
Nott’s shotgunning hands trembled. “D-Duke? Stay back, this is how it ends for me…” A plastic army man fell out of his trench coat pocket.
Duke held his arms out in a placating gesture. “It’s alright, baby. We can talk this out. What’s got you hating the world again?”
Nott rubbed his eyes and nose on his sleeve, sniffling. “I thought you were leaving me too, just like everyone… it’s all the same, no one cares about me…”
Duke gave a weak smile. “Hey now come on, that’s a steaming crock of alien shit, what makes you think that?”
Nott looked up, eyes watery, hands limp at his sides. “Because I’m Nott M. Portent, that’s why…”
Duke approached slowly, arms still outstretched, giving him a big hug. “You are important… to me.”
Nott sniffled. The muscles in his face began to do a curious thing, something they hadn’t done before. He was… could it be he was smiling? The shotgun fell, a Nerf dart discharged harmlessly into the streets. He hugged Duke back, feeling for the first time that the world didn’t need to die, that Coldness and Hatred were for the first time being supplanted… with Warmth and Lovtred.
“I have such Lovtred for you Duke Nukem…” He said, nuzzling into Duke’s big burly shoulder.
“I love me too, baby… now let’s go home. I’m ready to watch some movies together and chew bubble gum… and I’m all outta gum.”
if you leave a shopping cart in the middle of the parking lot instead of moving it to one of those cart corral things then you’re an asshole and i hope one day you accidentally hit a stray shopping cart and see the error in your ways
Notes: SO AFTER READING THIS, I NEED YOU TO LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK METTATON SHOULD CHOOSE, either in tags or reblogs or messages in the inbox! Otherwise I’m making the reader a piece of shit vanilla ass furry and there’s nothing you can do about it.