Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom
AN: thank you for your patience. I'm sorry it took me a while to get this up. I was out of town. Stories in the earlier chapters were previously posted on Drips and Drabbles. This one is a new one.
Stock Boy
(seven drabbles)
Mr. Brass looked at his clipboard and frowned. "I thought there were supposed to be two of you."
Danny shrugged, "Dash has football practice."
"Put this on," Mr. Brass said as he tossed a T-shirt in Danny's direction.
Danny looked at it with distaste. It had the Boo-Yeah Tours logo emblazoned on the front.
"Your job is to stock the shelves and keep track of the inventory. Whenever you take stuff out of the back room or add stuff mark it on the form or is counting too hard for you?"
"Add stuff?" Danny asked.
"From the truck. Start unloading."
.
.
Danny sighed as he heaved another box onto the hand truck. It was so unfair. He gripped the handles and wheeled the load through the shop and into the storage room. After unloading he went back for a second load.
Through the propped open back door, he could hear the driver shouting and an answering voice bellow, "Beware!"
"Crud," Danny muttered and triggered his transformation.
Phantom flew out of the shop and found not only the box ghost and the truck driver but a crowd of curious tourists.
"Ha!" yelled the ghost. "I win, Phantom, for I control your boxes!"
.
.
"Those aren't my boxes," the ghost boy protested.
"Yes, they are; they have your clothes in them." The Box Ghost waved his arms and a pair of boxes levitated, opened and Danny was engulfed by a wave of black sweat shirts with his D-P sign emblazoned in white on the front.
Danny fazed out of the pile, only to be bombarded by socks and baseball caps.
"This isn't my stuff! The store sells them," Danny answered sourly.
"What idiot would buy socks with someone else's name on them?"
Danny rolled his eyes and hooked his thumb at the gawking tourists.
.
.
The Box Ghost goggled at him. "I can't believe you would do this. I thought you were trying to protect your town. Now I see that you just want to eliminate the competition."
"No!" Danny protested vehemently, "It's not like that!"
"Are you overshadowing them? There is no way would they by this garbage otherwise.
"I'm not overshadowing anyone." Danny replied vehemently. I'm not forcing people to buy souvenirs."
"You're kidding me! They want to buy this stuff?" the Box Ghost asked amazed.
"Apparently," Danny admitted reluctantly.
"Humans sure are stupid," then he added thoughtfully, "though the boxes are nice."
.
.
"It will be easy to control them when they don't even know that the box is worth more than what's inside," the Box Ghost declared.
The Box Ghost waved at the audience then grabbed a box labeled 'fragile' and hurled toward the crowd.
Danny swooped and barely caught it in time to keep it from smashing into the sidewalk.
Taking advantage of Phantom's distraction, the box ghost began gleefully ripping open boxes and flinging the contents around.
"You had better not be expecting me to clean that up. Aw crud," Danny muttered to himself, "now I'm sounding like my mother."
.
.
The box ghost pulled open another carton and drew forth what looked like a dead cat. "On second thought," he chortled, "I don't want it. Hair it is."
Danny read the label. 'White: Wigs'
He felt his face flush. He was never going to live this down. He willed energy into his balled his fists. It was time to put an end to it.
The Box Ghost laughed hysterically, rolling around in the air. "Hey, Phantom, don't wig out."
The Box Ghost was so completely incapacitated with laughter that it made no protest as it was sucked into the thermos.
.
.
Forcing a cheery smile onto his face he waved at the crowd, "Looks, like my job is done, citizens. Enjoy your stay in Amity Park."
He turned invisible and phased through the wall, floated through the gift shop and into the back room, rematerialized and transformed into his human form.
"Stupid ghost," Danny snarled as he began picking up assorted items and stuffing them into the somewhat battered boxes.
At that moment that Mr. Brass stormed in. Seeing the mess strewn about the room he shouted. "What's going on here?"
Danny looked at the chaos and shrugged helplessly, "Doing inventory?"