What’s my life like working for Lynmart? Listen to this.

Traffic into work last week was a nightmare. Literally. A warlock tried to break into Hell alongside the freeway and got his address wrong. Everywhere you looked that morning there were human sized white fluffy rabbits wearing morning suits. They ran all over the place screaming about how late they were, could you give them a lift? Those fools that did let them in were torn to pieces and devoured.

This added to the drive time just a little.

Luckily the deli at Lynmart was a little less dead than usual. The ten or so zombies that usually were at the counter wanting up orders for their masters never showed. Later we found out this, too, was thanks to the warlock. Half of the undead creatures tried scooping what brains their masters had in their head and jars. The rest became You Tube influences.

Improved the site, to be honest.

In any case, I had to bust my butt to fill the hot case on time that morning. Came closer than usual to do it, too, which depressed me to no end. Still, all that really mattered was the boneless BBQ wings were ready when Gort the Destroyer showed up for them.

“I swear, I can’t stop eating these accused things,” he said to me as I filled up a bucket. “What do you put into them?”

“No clue,” I said as I handed the bucket to him over the counter. I was very careful not to touch any of his slimy tentacles. An impressive feat, considering the number of tentacles Gort had and the way they flapped spastically about. “Chicken and BBQ sauce, that’s all I know.”

“What do you cook them in? It has to be baby fat. German? Swedish?”

“Only vegetable oil.”

“Whatever it is, it’s wonderful.” Twenty of his eyes rolled back into his head when he said that. “Now do I pay for it here, or–“

Every time he asks that question, and the answer is always the same. “Up front. They don’t trust us with money back here.”

Lynmart doesn’t trust deli with much of anything, come to that. Sadly, we’ve given them cause.

An hour after Gort left, Ralph showed up on the run, hat crooked on his head. He slipped on what little remained of Gort’s slime trail. He gave it a funny look, then moved on.

Seemed the trouble on the freeway had held him up, too. “Saw a whole buswoads of kids killed by something that wooked like Bugs Bunny. Swear to you, it kept shouting ‘What’s up, Doc?’ between brats.”

“Did you call him a wascally wabbit?”

“Yeah,” Ralph sighed. “I don’t think he heard me.”

Must be rough looking exactly like Elmer Fudd. The expectations to perform alone must be enormous.

By that time it was my first break. I went back to the break room in the hopes of squeezing a nap in. To my irritating one of our Necromancers had the place cluttered with black candles. Allegedly this Dark Rite he was performing would hopefully fix whatever the warlock had done by the freeway. While he explained this he also mentioned the zombies brain eating thing.

The You Tube stuff I found out about later through means too embarrassing to relate here..

Anyways, his Rite would entail loud shouting, flatulence, and the occasional political discourse. Nnaturally making the break room impossible to use, much less sleep in. Going back to my car was out as it had a giant rabbit sitting on the hood. While it didn’t look like the ones from earlier it didn’t seem worth the risk. Wandering the store was out–you don’t wander a place like Lynmart if you value your… anything–so it was back to the deli to slice meats.

I found Ralph cutting some cheese for a Witch. Not one of our locals, I hasten to tell you. This one had pale skin instead of green and a button nose instead of a hooked one. She seemed pleasant enough at first. Except when Ralph gave her her order she went beat red. “I told you a half pound exactly.”

“I twied,” Ralph said earnestly, “but wealy it’s wibbit.”

Yeah. The witch turned him into a frog.

Still took the order with her. So there was that.

I tried calling a department manager over the walkie, the overhead speakers, even shouting. No dice. After catching a clearly panicking Ralph, I took him back to the HR office. For some reason I thought someone there would be capable of doing something for him.

“We can’t do anything for him.”

“Can’t you call someone? Anyone?”

“Sorry, no can do. Annie flies into deli later today, right? Have her fix him.”

“You know Annie doesn’t do frogs.” If she did, Ralph would have been one a long time ago.

“Guess you’re stuck with him, then.”

Fan-damn-tastic.

Fortunately the Necromancer in the break room had finished with his Dark Rite. It didn’t take much to convince him to help out. “I know a fella . I’ll take him over and get our friend here back to normal.”

“Can you see if he can do better than that? I think we’d all appreciate it.”

Not Ralph. He seemed put out by that.

Lunch came. With Ralph gone, that meant the deli would be empty. I tried calling team leads, but got bupkis. Had the whole place burst into flames we’d still wouldn’t be graced with a reply. So I just left, the hell with it.

As a rule I try to not eat at Lynmart. The longer you stay in the store the more likely you will never, ever leave. Checking the parking lot I saw my car was lapin free, so off I went.

When I came back an hour later I found Gort there waiting for me. “That damn warlock and his spell has the whole system fried.” His twin antennae quivering almost as much as his tentacles as he spoke. “Be at least another hour before I can portal home. If I’m lucky.”

“Well at least this way you’ll get fresh wings.”

“I like the way you think, mortal worm.”

“You call me the nicest names.”

Annie showed up at her usual time. She’d heard about the trouble on the freeway but knew nothing more about it. Not only did she come in to work from another direction, she did so on a broom.

“Where’s Fudd?” she asked as she slipped her apron on. “He owes me from last time.”

Wouldn’t do to ask what Ralph owed, as she’d probably tell me.

Instead, I relayed what had happened. Her cheeks turned a darker green. “That,” you can probably guess what she said. “She’s the kind of witch that gives the rest of us a bad name.”

“Weren’t you the one luring children into a gingerbread house?”

Annie jabbed a finger into my chest. “That’s different. Those were evil kids and they were asking for it.”

Around my last break Ralph returned, none the worst for wear over his experience. Right on seeing us, he said, “I don’t want to tawk about it.”

“Hey there, Ralph.” Cruel smiles fit her face. “Got a bunch of flies in a container in back for you.”

The man practically melted hearing that. “Oh thank God. I’m so hungwy.”

Neither of us expected that response. But maybe we should have.

Last break I found the break room empty. We have a nice comfy couch in back, which I gratefully sank into for a fifteen minute nap.

I dreamed of giant rabbits nibbling on my toes.

So better dreams than usual.

No interesting customers came in while I was still there, so the rest of the day passed smoothly. Soon enough I was on my way home.

Traffic was now back to normal, though it did slow around the river. A Great Old Ones was straddling the river, squid head cocked to One side. Floating in front of its face was Gort the Destroyer. I think he was begging for a lift home.

As I passed them, the Great Old One struck out. With one terrible motion it had Gort in its beak and with a jerk of the head devoured him whole.

And before you start worrying, I talked to Gort the next day. He assured me that was the only way he’d could return to his parallel dimension at that time. Something about the stars being left instead of right.

Me, I’da walked.

And that’s a typical day at Lynmart. You ever get offered a job, run. Run like hell.