Audience Member #1, a willowy girl with thick glasses and pink hair, chuckled at something, then remarked that she had to ask: just what was it Arec had gotten up to?

Her companions agreed that they wanted to know, and they all turned to look expectantly at the blindfolded wolf seated among them.

The wolf cleared her throat and began to speak:

The manager sat at his desk, glancing between his desk clock and the intercom device sitting beside it. He had five minutes left on his shift. As long as nobody called through to him before then, he'd be able to leave work on time. Or so he assumed; it had never actually happened.

With two minutes to go, one of the strange little lights clicked on. He sighed and pressed a button on the device.

"Yes?"

"Hey!" called a voice, transmitted by the device. "Hey, is someone there? Is that a person?" The voice sounded winded.

The manager blinked. "Sorry—intercom use is for store personnel use only. I take it you don't work here?"

"No, but I need help! I've been stuck in the hardware aisle for the past half hour! I'm trying to leave, but I just wind up back in the same place again!"

The manager raised an eyebrow. That was strange. A second light had started blinking on his intercom, though, so he had to move on. "I'll send someone your way," he told the directionally-challenged customer. "Just wait there, please."

He ended the call just as a third light came on. At the same time, a gangly youth in a store uniform tapped lightly on his office door, looking rather nervous.

"Come on in," he told the employee, then pressed a button to pick up the second line. "Yes?"

"Hey, boss, really dumb question here, but I wanted to be absolutely sure: is there a river that runs through the middle of our store?"

The manager blinked. "Uh… no."

"Okay, just checking." The call ended.

He sat staring at the third and final blinking light for a moment, and the youth in front of him took the opportunity to speak up. His voice cracked so badly that it jarred the manager into paying attention.

"Uh, sir? Sorry to bother you in person, but I couldn't remember how to work the intercom."

The manager glanced at the kid's nametag, which was one of the generic ones given to new hires. "Oh, you just got here this week, didn't you?"

The youth nodded vigorously.

"Sorry I haven't been able to introduce myself yet," the manager remarked. "Just a moment, please." He picked up the last line. "Yes?"

"Uh, boss, I'm having the weirdest problem. I can't find the duct tape. It's supposed to be in aisle 8, but the next aisle over from 7 is aisle 9, for some reason."

"Let me call you back," the manager replied, then ended the call and looked at the fellow in front of him. "What do you need?"

"I think I saw one of those 'problem customers' we were told about."

"All right. Try to relax—it's good you came to me. What did they look like?" The manager glanced at the board of 'problem customers' on the wall of his office. I can deal with this, he thought. As long as it's not Arec.

The kid swallowed. "They looked like a d-demon! Black eyes, pale skin, huge, pointy fangs, claws as long as—"

"Oh! A Rasp, then?" The manager tried to appear concerned, but inwardly, he sighed with relief. "Just stay calm. The most dangerous of them is a professional assassin, and this would be a terrible place for that sort of business. We should be all right. Where was the creature?"

"He was looking through the children's novelties. When he saw me watching him, he smiled. He had... a lot of teeth. Oh, and he was wearing one of those cheap disguise glasses—you know, the ones that are just a bamboo frame with a fake nose attached?"

The manager paled. "A fake nose? He was wearing a toy disguise?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"That, son, was no Rasp," the manager said with a pained grimace. "They don't play with toys. No, the fake nose is a dead giveaway. Only one person would do something so silly and childish. So..."

He sighed aloud, and his gaze drifted back to the board of 'problem customers.'

"...Zaney," he finished.

"Zaney?" the employee echoed, then followed his gaze. "Oh, Arec Zane? Why does he look like a cartoon character?"

"It's pronounced 'Eric,' and that's because he keeps sneaking in and replacing our sketches of him with goofy drawings."

"Well, that's good, then, right?" the employee asked.

Instead of answering, the manager pressed a button on the intercom. "Attention, all employees: restocking on aisle 19." There was no aisle 19; it was a code to let everyone know to prepare for the worst.

"I mean, he's not a Rasp, right?" persisted the newbie. "He's just some practical joker."

The manager pressed another button, then waited for the call to connect.

"I heard the code, boss," came the voice of one of his assistant managers. "What do you need?"

"I believe he moved the hardware aisle somewhere. You're not going to find it in the store. Do you hear running water?"

"Huh? No..."

"Okay. Keep walking around the store until you do, then call me back." The manager hung up and dialed a different line. "You asked about a river?"

"Yeah. I guess it has to do with that 'restocking,' huh?"

"Most likely. Where is it?"

"Seems to be around the toy department."

"Yeah, that sounds like him. We should have a canoe in storage."

"You mean...?"

"I'm sending one of the other managers your way. Boat over there and see if you can find our missing hardware aisle."

He ended the call and promptly made another: "Sorry for the wait, sir. We're experiencing some magical difficulties right now. What's your name?"

"Boris. Boris Rumaldi. I just wanted to grab some tools to repair—"

"I understand, sir. Pardon me for interrupting, but time is of the essence. Can you tell me if you hear anything out of the ordinary?"

"Uh... Hang on."

While he waited for the customer to return to the intercom, the manager looked at the newbie, who seemed to be slowly getting the picture.

"No, son, Arec isn't just a practical joker. The last time he was here, he shuffled our checkout lines."

"Like, he changed the numbers?"

"No, he set them up so that an item checked out in one line wound up in a different customer's bag. It took us hours to sort out the whole mess."

The newbie still didn't seem to understand, so the manager continued: "And the time before that, we were closed for four days. Nobody's ever figured out why, since none of us noticed. As far as anyone knows, the store just skipped ahead four days. The only reason we even know he was involved was because he put those stupid fake noses on all of the Employee of the Month plaques."

The customer on the intercom device started speaking again: "I hear birds chirping, and I think I might hear boats. Not water, though. I don't know. Is that weird?"

"That's very helpful, sir," the manager replied smoothly. "We'll be with you as soon as we can." He ended the call and immediately withdrew a continental map from one of his desk drawers.

Audience Member #2 rose slowly to his feet, and his stony armchair descended into the earth beneath him.

"The story is pretty great," he remarked, his crystal eye gleaming in the pre-dawn half-light. "Though I'm convinced it's pronounced 'Arec.' But then, Indines seems to be a Rorschach test of pronunciation."

"Oh, I agree entirely," the wolf replied. "Are you leaving?"

"Yes, I need to go to my bed."

"I didn't think you slept," remarked Audience Member #1.

"I meant my flower bed," he clarified. "Dawn approaches, and the flowers tend to fight amongst themselves if left untended."

"I understand completely," agreed Audience Member #1.

The group bid him a good day, and the story continued.

"Wh-what are you doing now, boss?" asked the newbie with the squeaky voice.

"Trying to figure out where aisle 8 got off to," the manager replied. "It sounds like he's moved it somewhere, probably to swap out for wherever he got the piece of river he's using to block off the toy section."

"Can he do that?" the kid asked, finally sounding impressed.

"Planar studies aren't his specialty, but it's not like he's ever in short supply of allies. Rumor has it there's a planar witch trying to catch his eye, though she has her work cut out for her."

"Wow. You really keep track of him, huh?"

"Not just him. Argent is a hotbed for mayhem. If I didn't have half an idea of what's coming our way on any given day, this place wouldn't still be standing."

The manager put his finger on the map. "There. It's the nearest tributary that isn't still protected by the wards of Argent or the laws of Kor Karoli, so it's the likeliest spot for the switch. Hmm. Do you know where we store seasonal items?"

"Er, I think so..."

"Okay, change of plans." The manager dialed on his intercom again. "Hey. Do you have that canoe yet?"

"Sorry, boss, I got lost leaving the toy department. Not really sure how, but..."

"Don't worry about it. If you still have that friend in planar studies, I need you to teleport out for a bit to get at the other end of this thing."

"I can try, boss."

"Good. Do it. I'll have someone else go for the canoe. Oh, and give them whatever they want for the help. A whole book of coupons, or a gift card, or something. It's a 'restocking 19,' so you're authorized to do whatever it takes."

The call ended, and the manager looked up at the newbie, who was looking even more nervous than before. He held out a key. "You ever gone canoeing before?"

The kid nervously reached out to accept the offered item. "Er... No, sir."

"No better time to learn, then. That's the key to storage. Good luck."

The kid scampered off, and the manager got back on the intercom to coordinate and reassure the other managers and his various employees. He also glanced at the clock with a heavy sigh.

"We'll pick up with him later," the wolf explained. "In the meantime, somebody happened to wander by the right aisle at the wrong time..."

Byron Krane, passing by the toy department on his way to checkout, raised his eyebrow at a tiny scratch at the bottom of a display.

"Not quite right," he mused, and sidestepped the spell's effect, entirely ignoring that he was supposed to wind up in front of a river.

He took a few steps into the toy aisle, then flinched as something hit him in the eye—and stayed there.

"Bull's-eye!" crowed his assailant.

Byron reached up and removed the suction-cup-tipped foam dart from his mask. He did not say that he was not amused; he didn't have to. Instead, he simply looked around. "Was this necessary?" he asked.

Arec Russell Zane slid down a plastic slide made up of several smaller slides, stumbling slightly as he landed on the ground. "Necessary? Nah. But it was fun! Well, maybe it was partly necessary."

Byron glanced over Arec's fort, which was quite large considering it had been built entirely out of toy bricks used for constructing much smaller forts. "Which part, then? The giant slide or the ball-pit moat?"

"Don't forget the foam dart ballista!" Arec pointed out. "I thought my aim sucked. Turns out the ammo does!"

Ignoring the lad's attempt at humor, Byron simply stated, "I have scarcely seen such a spectacular waste of energy."

"The fort was actually fun to put together, so—"

"I meant the spell you used to misplace it. And you didn't explain what was supposedly necessary."

"They were supposed to have the new model dart gun out this week! In storage a week earlier than release." He lowered his voice, suddenly sounding deadly serious. "I need that gun, Byron. It's got a magazine with automated reloading. They've never made one like it."

"Professor Krane," Byron corrected with distaste. "I take it that's the toy with which you accosted me?"

"No!" Arec moaned, whirling away in a dramatic gesture of despair. "They didn't have it! I desperately needed the real thing, but all they had were these cheap knock-offs!"

Byron remained expressionless. "Truly, your woe is direst of all in Indines," he uttered flatly.

Arec blinked at the palpable sarcasm, then decided to run with it. "I know, right?"

Byron was already walking away. "Were you wasting the time of one of my own students with this endeavour, I would chastise you. As it is, I have no reason to spend good time after bad."

"Darting off already, Byron?" Arec called, bouncing up to his fort and readying his ballista. "I aim to please!"

He fired, and the dart's aim held true—but it passed through the departing Byron like so much smoke. Arec rubbed his eyes, then froze as a cold hand touched his shoulder.

"I see you miss me already," Byron said in a soft, menacing whisper.

Arec spun around, but nothing was there. He was alone. He went to reload his ballista, but found his ammo stock had vanished with his visitor.

"Spoilsport," Arec grumbled, sticking his tongue out in the direction Byron had appeared to be going.

"With that taken care of," continued the storyteller, "let's return to the manager. Perhaps an hour has passed since we caught him looking at the clock and waiting for his shift to end, and the crisis has largely faded. He discerned correctly the paired location of the planar displacement, and they were able to sever the connection, removing the river from his store and restoring aisle 8 to its rightful place.

"He left his subordinate managers and their minions—er, employees to dismantle the toy fortress. Before he returned to his office, he made a point of personally apologizing to the fellow who was trapped in aisle 8 for more than an hour..."

"...And thank you again for your patronage," the manager finished as they arrived at the checkout lanes.

"I just wanted a few things," the harried-looking, heavy-set gentleman sighed. He glanced over the lanes, then spotted an express checkout lane with only one other person on it—and that person had only one item. "At least I can check out quickly. I'm running late to relieve my assistant as it is. It's going to be a busy night at the bar."

"Good luck," the manager remarked, feeling a little envious of people who didn't have to deal with the kind of chaos that regularly visited his own establishment.

He returned to his office to find an envelope addressed to him on top of his desk. Puzzled, he opened it and started unfolding the paper within—then one of the intercom lights flashed again.

He answered the line. "Yes?" he asked, wary. Please let this be over, he thought. We dealt with Arec's troublemaking in record time. Can't we just walk away with a win?

"Hey, boss, sorry about before. I can replace the canoe."

"Oh, that? No, don't worry about it. I'm just glad everyone's safe. You never told me what happened to the new guy, by the way. Where did you send him after you got off the canoe?"

"New guy?"

"Yeah. I didn't catch his name—some gangly guy, didn't have a nametag yet. Must've been a new hire."

"Er... our only new hires this week were those two green-haired girls, sir. No gangly guys."

The manager's heart sank, and he slowly finished unfolding the paper from the envelope. "Who brought you the canoe?"

"It was just waiting for us when we got to the toy department, sir. Who did you send it with?"

The paper was a handwritten note in a style the manager had come to know quite well. It read:

Hey Boss (that's what everyone seems to call you, so I assume it's your name)

Thanks for the key! But I didn't find what I was looking for. Are you guys behind on the shipping list or something?

I can make do with off-brand for now, but I really need a Nerf! I went to all this trouble to get one! Pleeeeeaaaase stock it soon!

With all the love and fake noses,

Zaney

P.S. It's "Arec," not Eric. It's spelled differently for a reason! Pronounce it like "we Arec-streamly annoyed at the wee Arec stream."

The manager slowly crumpled the note.

"Boss?" asked the fellow on the other end of the intercom call.

"Arec," the manager groaned. "I sent it with Arec. In disguise."

He looked up at the board of 'problem customers' on his wall. Every picture had suffered the addition of a large, obviously-fake nose (with attached moustache) and lensless glasses. In crayon.

"You what?"

"Yeah," the manager sighed. "Sort out the toy aisle, then call everybody together and have them find adventuring gear. Once official business hours end, anyone willing to earn some overtime will form into squads and enter storage. It's anyone's guess where we'll end up this time."

He ended the call and glared at the cartoonish sketch of Arec (now adorned with a fake nose). He sat there for several seconds, as if hoping to win a staring contest with the thing, then finally got up to begin making preparations.

Just as he looked away, the sketch winked.