a bit of a different one...i was really tiried when i wrote this one!

I dont own anything, like usual!

Thank you so much to all my loyal reasders, reviewers etc! Thanks you!


Recipe for probable nuclear apocalypse or other event that will cripple humanity:

-several FBI agents (of the BAU variety )

-One grocery store greeter (who may throw herself underneath a bus in order to preserve her sanity)

-Jalapeño cream cheese pops

-Goats

No more needs to be said.

And no, it was not a bad a dream. It was not some alternate time universe paradox thing. I was not hallucinating, tripping or having my mind messed with in anyway.

I mean, I could explain my government conspiracy theory right now but that would probably be a major waste of time. Either that or I'll get kidnapped. So I'll stay quiet.

The point remains however.

That's what my Saturday morning shift involved.

I'm still in therapy, rest assured.


My story begins with one brilliant genius in management of Grocery Land who came up with some bloody brilliant idea to do samples of food at every aisle. Smart idea right? A chance to showcase new products. More money. Impulse buys.

Yah, all fine and dandy on paper until you get innocent door greeters cooking stuff like pig's ears at six in the morning.

Yah.

Not a good morning.

Anyways, this particular Saturday I was sorta freaking out. Exams were coming up way quicker then I anticipated, and I was going over power rules of calculus while preparing mini tofu sandwiches and pigs in blankets. This order may have been reversed to mini pig sandwiches and tofu blankets, which meant that it all had to be remade, and I was thrown on door greeting.

Freaking Nolan and his perfect power rules and sandwich blankets, or whatever the hell they were supposed to be.

So door greeting went as normal as anything ever goes in Quantico, which is pretty much nil. Seriously though, it was slow. Some parents and old people, that's about it. I handed out coupons and tried to keep my eyes open. I had been cramming chemistry last night. Okay, and watched cat videos, but the intent of chemistry was there.

Suddenly (how I hate the word) Reid and Prentiss ran in, wheezing, wearing awful matching pink shirts.

Normal morning.

Right.

"We need-" Prentiss doubled over, dying "we need jalapeño cream cheese poppers."

Actually it looked like she needed a defibrillator more, but I wasn't going to argue.

"We have them frozen..." I started but Nolan cut me off, making me jump. Darn kid.

"We actually have some prepared if you want to sample," he gave his best charming Nolan smile and offered the agents the deep fried poppers.

"What happened to the tofu pigs?" I asked. He ignored my question, which meant that the back room was probably on fire or something.

"Why the heck do you need to get jalapeño...things?" I asked bewildered as they eagerly shoved them in a bag.

"FBI city wide scavenger hunt," Reid explained quickly "thanks!"

And like that they were gone, sprinting out the exit.

I'm pretty sure my mouth is still hanging open.


The next group in was Morgan and Hotch, which was an interesting combination. They spent twenty minutes in the frozen aisle, arguing about what brand to buy. They finally settled on pizza pockets, not jalapeño poppers, but honestly, I wasn't going to point it out.

Then Rossi and Garcia, which made for an entertaining few minutes. Both of them had such...unique personalities. Rossi was obviously the leader with Garcia tagging along, tapping on her phone, her high heels clicking away. Honestly, I was impressed that she was doing a city wide scavenger hunt in six inch cheetah pumps, and a hat similar to Bob Marley's. Minus the dreadlocks.

"What is the purpose of this exactly?" I asked Rossi as he pulled sour his credit card. He shrugged.

"According to Strauss, it's a team building exercise to each the values of cooperation and fair play. My guess is that they're attempting to clean the bullpen."

I just stared.

"Reid, Morgan and Prentiss are notorious for their housekeeping. Reid has a souvenir pen from every hotel we've ever been stayed at during a case."

"That's not weird," I responded, rolling my eyes. Rossi nodded.

"Morgan takes the soap," he said, completely serious "All the soap. Unopened or not. It's all in one of his desk drawers. Strauss keeps on getting angry calls from managers."

"He hoards soap?"

"That's not the worst of it. Prentiss is attempting to perform an experiment with a MacDonald's burger at her desk," Rossi chuckled.

Why did I ask? Just...why?

"It's moved two inches in the last six months." He added in a thoughtful voice "Maybe it was three."

I am officially never, ever going to MacDonald's again. Or the FBI building. Or anywhere near the two.

"I have them!" Garcia exclaimed, shuffling over, holding a large box of frozen jalapeño pops"We must flee, my Italian complice, because it had come to my attention that we are behind everyone else, and we cannot lose because I really can't bare facing Morgan and..."

My brain stopped processing at Italian complice. Actually, it was several months ago, if I counted correctly.

She trailed off looking at her phone screen "Wait a second...that's strange."

"What?" I asked, considering curling up in the fetal position on the floor.

"Hotch and Morgan and sprinting back this way. They'll be here any minute."

"Maybe they realized their mistake." Nolan suggested from behind us. I rolled my eyes, just as the two men flat out sprinted through the automatic doors, gasping.

"GOATS!" Morgan shouted "Take cover!" He dove into a nearby display.

Wait, are we talking about the farm animal with cute ears? Or, like, some acronym for something disastrous.

Two seconds later, it was confirmed.

There were six goats.

Loose.

In Grocery Land.

Actual, live goats. Bleating and clicking their hoofs on the tile floor as they galloped around, sending terror all through the store. People screamed and clamored towards the exits. It was honestly unhinged chaos.

The goats were cute though. They had floppy ears.

However, because of these goats, guess who good to try and round them up? Well, Nolan, me and the goat keeper that came in a minute later, sweating buckets and apologizing to anyone who would listen.

Yeah.

Hoarding goats was so not in the job description. Especially with armed FBI officers cowering behind the displays.

Apparently Morgan has an irrational fear of...goats.

Aha. Right.

This leads to the question-why the heck were there goats lose in a large city? Turns out the goat keeper was an animal control guy who was removing them from the backyard of a home (and no, I have no freaking clue why anyone would keep goats in their back yard) and accidentally got lose when the hinge wasn't done up correctly. They saw Morgan and Hotch run by, started chasing after them and both grown men overreacted to the four legged vegetarian hay eaters who were playfully running after them.

Why did two men, with guns and years of FBI experience with serial killers and stuff like that run away from goats?

I don't understand.

Actually I was beginning to feel that I was in an alternate time universe parallel or something along those lines.

It wasn't good.

And in the end, it turned out that the 'team building exercise' was indeed an excuse to clean out the bullpen of all soap, pens and six month old hamburgers. The goats weren't supposed to happen.

And the mammals were returned safely to the animal sanctuary, Morgan and Hotch were in group therapy together for the foreseeable future, and all was well.

Well, except I was losing my mind and sanity.

And Nolan asked me to coffee.

That was a really weird Saturday.

I'm starting to see Morgan's aversion to goats. I had nightmares about them last night.

Oh dear.

Padded cell for me! Woohoo!


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