It's not much of a job, but it pays. John likes the odd hours. It fits the odd merchandise. This store sells almost everything that you could need during a normal day. And then some. It was the most convenient convenience store John could think of. Groceries, liquor, sewing kits, children's toys, kitchenware, hallmark cards, pet food, books and magazines, novelty gifts. Almost everything. A variety store.
John liked going around collecting random materials and putting them together into buildings, towers, or pranks. Usually around two in the morning this little old man in a cute hat would come in for a couple groceries. He always commented on John's 'can town' and offered suggestions for what to improve. By the end of his shift, John would take a picture of it and add it to the wall that made up all of the other creations before returning the materials back to the shelves. No one minded and there are only a couple regulars that come in.
He's putting the finishing touches on his latest creation- a cheese whiz and paper towel tower- when he hears shouting outside.
He gets behind the counter and makes sure the bat is handy just in case there is trouble. He didn't want another incident. Granted the police sided with him, but he still felt guilty over the twelve stitches he gave the would be robber. It was just one hit!
He looks out the window and sees a guy coming towards the door screaming into his cell phone. John sizes him up. He looks like a burly short guy with dark curly hair. Kinda mean looking. John hopes that it only takes one hit to take him down because John doesn't want to get hit by that dude.
He walks in mid-scream. "-JUST GOT TO RICHARD'S BECAUSE YOUR SUCH A DICK, YOU SELF ABSORBED ASSHOLE! I'm EXHAUSTED and seeing DOUBLE and probably HALLUCINATING a little, just a little, from lack of SLEEP but instead of laying in my MAGNIFICENT bed, I am dealing with YOUR GARBAGE!" He stalks through the store. That's a weak word for what he is actually doing, but John doesn't have the vocabulary to explain it. John comes around the counter though to watch the man who seems to know exactly where he is going. Maybe he's a regular during normals hours. Coming in at four thirty in the morning though is odd for nearly anyone. Even the drug dealers have gone to bed.
The man looks up and sees John at the end of the aisle. His eyes glances down to John's name tag and then back up before he grabs an entire stack of canned cat food from off the shelf with his free hand.
"And you know what else? Now there's another night ruined because of you, you cumstained sweatsock of a human being. John is stuck working tonight at Richard's and has to put up with this BULLSHIT." John pales as he hears his name get inadvertently pulled into the situation. He scurries back to his post at the front of the store. Not that it helps. "He was probably looking forward to a fucking quiet night where he could do some fucking cleaning, do some fucking inventory, and just fucking take it east. Instead, he has to stand behind the counter listening to a crazy man screaming into his phone because HIS ROOMMATE IS A STUPID, MOTHERFUCKING, SELFISH, IDIOTIC TOOL!" He's obnoxiously loud when he gets around to it. But then he switches to a growl that sounds like gravel rolling down a hill as he comes up to the till. "If you think I'm going to put up with your stupidity for another-"
He looks up with a clam blank look. He lowers his phone and pulls out his wallet.
"Um..." John starts."
"His voicemail just cut out again." He's perfectly calm now. In fact, he's actually smiling a little despite the dark circles around his eyes.
"What happened?" John asks. He can't help but ask. This is the weirdest thing that has happened to him since that clown stumbled in and bought out the store's faygo stash.
The man hands over the stack of cat food and John starts ringing him up. "I work in a twenty-four hour call center. I just had the shift from hell where everything that could go wrong did go wrong and everyone decided it was my fucking fault and that they needed to shit all over me to make it all better." He starts tapping on his phone as if dialing again.
"Well that sounds terrible."
"Oh it gets better. Because when I get home to find my roommate's cat howling and crying and pissing all over the play because she's hungry and we have no cat food. That in itself wouldn't be that bad because places like this are open but you know what, that ungrateful little shit of a roommate knew, knew that we were out, but he went partying anyway and left me to deal with her and her ravenous appetite." He lifts the phone to his ear. John can hear the little beep of the voicemail. "So I'm here at four FUCKING thirty in the FUCKING GODDAMN MORNING making John's night WORSE because my roommate is a PRIMATIVE HORSESHITTING FUCK-FOR-BRAIN ASSHOLE! The cat is howling and screaming bloody murder, and I can't sleep until it's fed but GOD FUCKING FORBID that ANYBODY interfere with the SHAMEFUCKING SHITSQUATTING FUCKSPONGE'S latest HOOKUP!"
John scans the cat food, get the total, takes the man's credit card to swipe while the man continues to scream very creative obscenities into his phone. Apparently the voicemail ends again and like a switch, his demeanor switches back to calm and rational. He apologizes for his behavior as he signs the receipt.
"I hope the rest of your night is calm and quiet, John."
"Oh, it's almost over."
"That's good. Sorry for the trouble," he says as he lifts the phone again. "You hear that? You need to get your STUPID FUCKSQUATTING RAINBOW BILGESACK SELF down here and APOLOGIZE to John for making his FUCKING night that much FUCKING STUPIDER!" He walks out carrying the bag of cat food and still screaming into his phone with John snickering in the background.
Oh boy he had a story to tell Mister Mayor the next night.
The story lasts John almost a full week. He chuckles to himself when ever he thinks about the angry man and his roommate. He wonders briefly over what kind of cat he owned and hat his roommate's reaction to the voicemails were. He wonders what kind of person can be roommates with someone who has such anger issues. Thought he did seem polite when he wasn't screaming. And honestly his curses were quite creative. John usually just gets stuck in a loop of 'fucker', 'piece of shit', 'bastard', and 'bitch'. John kind of wants the guy to come back to give him a course on cursing.
And maybe his number.
So that they could go out for drinks as friends. For lessons on the art of cursing. Yeah, that's it.
John's about to give up on his angry cursing 'friend' and relegate him to just one of those stories when he comes back. And he comes back with someone else.
John watches the two of them from the counter, having popped up when he heard the familiar ding of the door from were he had been reorganizing the smokes from the previous clerk who had a penchant to organize everything by 'taste' which looks remarkably like a rainbow of the packages. John hates her. She does it just to screw with him because he's not going to notice until almost the end of the shift and sometimes he doesn't notice what she's fucked up this time and he gets reprimanded by the boss. He wants to take her out for a drink as well. To congratulate her on her pranking abilities. Yeah, that's it.
Enough about John's coworker though. John's much more interested in the new guy. He complements the other. Tall and blonde and thin like a willow. Well, John thinks he's blonde. His hair seems to pick up whatever colored light is nearest. He looks best in red light. Thought John would never think he looks best in any light. Instead he thinks he's a douche because he's wearing sunglasses like a douche at four in the morning.
The other is still short and dark and carries a surly air about him but his voice now that he's not screaming every two seconds is actually a deep bass counterpart to the tall treble. John finally feels like those years his dad made him take piano pay off. He actually catches half a laugh from mister screamo as the tall blonde comments about something in front of the junk food.
They finally decide on something, actually an armful of somethings, and bring it up to the counter. The dark short one finally sees John and his eyes brighten.
"Oh it's you! I'd glad i didn't scare you off. How have you been, John?"
"Good. Good. You didn't scare me off, though i was about to believe you were just a figment of my imagination, though usually my figments have gray skin and candy corn horns."
"Whatever shit you're on? I want in."
"Just high on life. How's the cat?"
"She's good. The spider bitch only yowls when you don't have two hands on her at all times now. As long as you pet her, she's fine."
"Spider bitch?"
"Long story."
"Her real name is Vriska," the tall blonde cuts in. "And she's not that bad, Vantas."
Vantas (what kinda name is that, it's almost as dark and growly as it's owner) throws a baleful eye up at him. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes towards John as if saying 'will you believe this kid?' John just smiles and grabs their stuff to start scanning them in.
Then Vantas elbows the tall one in the side.
"Hey, what was that for?"
"Well?" he asks expectantly.
"Well what?"
"This is John."
The blonde looks him over. "Sup?"
"Hi." John smiles at him.
"Well? Aren't you going to apologize, Strider?"
"For what?" The blonde, Strider looks offended at even the thought that he might have done something wrong. John tries to hide the laugh. He almost loses it when he sees the glower growing over Vantas' head. His eyes narrows as he slowly turns to face Strider.
His voice is dark and gravely, promising of things to come. "You didn't listen to my voicemails, did you?"