More of the Sandman fic.

[odditycollector]

Wednesday

Motrin was invented for days like this, when the store is filled with idiots and their brats. It’s two hours to closing, and by all rights things should be settling down until the lights go out and you’re finally free to leave this linoleumed version of hell.

Some twit of a woman holding a shrieking toddler breaks into your line. “Do you have pens?” she shouts over the kid.

You grit your teeth and pretend you’re smiling. “Yes,” you shout back. “In the aisle labelled pens.”

She glances around frantically. “Can you show me?”

“Certainly,” you respond, maybe a touch brighter than required. “Just as soon as I’m done helping these people.” You nod to the dozen or so carts lined behind your till.

The woman glares at you. “I WANNA CHOC’LIT! I WANNA CHOC’LIT! I WANNA CHOC’LIT!” screams the kid over her shoulder as she walks away.

You close your eyes for a moment before gesturing to the next person in line, an elderly lady buying what was probably the entire stock of calendars. “Sorry about that,” you say.

“Right,” she says. “I been waiting in that line for most of an hour. If you’d gone off just now, I’d have complained to your manager, make no mistake. Lost you a commission.”

You fantasize about old, brittle bones as you scan her purchases. Commission your ass. And who the hell needed thirty pin-ups of September?

“And I want one of these,” she announces, throwing a tabloid on the till and looking at you like she’s doing you a favour.

You ring it through. “Thank you for shopping with us….”

Something glass shatters in the background, and a high pitched wailing echoes around the store. “No no no no no… mine mine mine mine….”

You pop another Motrin and turn to the next customer. Alone of pretty much everyone you’ve dealt with for the last hour, she isn’t pushing an absurdly loaded cart. “Sorry about the line,” you say as she places only two items in front of you, and you surprise yourself by almost meaning it.

“It’s all right,” she says. She narrows her eyes and smiles at you, and in that moment you wish you were a lesbian so you could fuck her. “I made my own entertainment.”

You laugh at that, although it comes out too much like a giggle. “Still,” you say, “this stuff must be pretty important if you were willing to wait.”

“I’m always willing to wait. But yes. It’s a gift for my brother.”

You look down at the packages as you put them in a bag. A bottle of white-out and a fountain pen.

“Your brother really needs office supplies, huh?”

“Of course not,” she says, grinning. And anyone that gorgeous could get away with being a little wacky.

She drops a tip in your hand as you pass her the bag. “And something for you.”

“Sure, thanks,” you call after her.

You look at the coin she gave you, and realize with dismay that the flash of gold you thought you saw was really just a shiny penny.

“Yeah, thanks,” you mutter. “I’ll put it towards my ferrari.”

You flip the coin into the air, letting it tumble down into the take-a-penny jar. As it falls, the glint of light on its edges happens to catch the attention of a better-looking cashier. Brett-something. He grins at you.

The middle-aged man next in line is still busy shovelling chocolate bars into his cart, so you take a moment to wave back.