It was the best of days, it was the worst of days, but overall, it was a day. The sun came up, and based on previous days like this, it would eventually go down, so there's that at least. But it was yet another day that Jeremy (lovingly called Jerm by his favorite customers) was delivering Amazon packages at what could only be considered a mediocre rate. His higher ups were a bit wary of the fact he referred to people he delivered to as "customers", but that was just the quality of service he liked to provide, despite the toll it took on his speed. He stepped onto the gray, rain-splashed sidewalk, quickly referencing his little black book of customer names.
"Wayne Gray," he muttered to himself. While the rest of his job wasn't always sunshine and rainbows, if Wayne Gray were a climate, that climate would be ass.
Usually, all Wayne was getting was 'discreet packages'; you know, the ones companies say comes in discreet packing but because it's so bland and invariably cylindrical, you kinda just knew what was in those badboys. But, people can surprise you, and today, people could color Jeremy surprised. This package was colored like a cube, and it was interestingly coloring Jeremy's pants a fun new shade of red with the drips that were coming out from it.
Jeremy turned the cube in his hands, catching himself unironically red-handed. He never turned a cube, unless it was one of the Rubix variety, and this was far too big and cardboard to be that.
"Oh shit," Wayne's nasally voice broke Jeremy's concentration. "You got it on you… quick, get inside," the slumped man beckoned him in, leaving the door open. Jeremy was apprehensive, the customer's doorway was a literal threshold he didn't deign to cross, but damn something compelled him to enter, and not just because it smelled like fresh lemon tarts up in there.
He flicked a splatter of red onto the doorstep, frowning at himself for his manners. His doorstep mop (by Swiffer, of course) was made just for this, usually for scuffs from his Docs to tell the truth, but it'd do in this particular pinch… If it wasn't back in his big good truck, past a now closed door.
His eyebrows knit together, "Who even closed the-"
"I'm in here!" Wayne called from deeper in the abode.
Two doors sat before him; one blue and one tan, which do you choo- haha naw, it's not that kind of story, and his favorite color is tan. He slowly reached for the tan door's shiny, scrumptious knob, when suddenly-
The door opened, outward, into his whole foot, which was due to how highset the door was, really smurshed that metatarsal something fierce.
"Oh, sorry about that," a busty blonde stepped out between the sliver of the door's opening, making great care to close the door behind her in a way that didn't allow him even a peak behind that now lust-filled tan entryway.
She wore a candy striper uniform that clung to her bosom like a needy child to also a bosom, and perched slightly on those zoombas was a nametag, reading "Greyn Wady".
"Hey, are you looking at my wife?" Jeremy turned, and much to his surprise, there he was, famous comedian Wayne Brady. He was dressed as Cowboy Curtis, which was not a reference Jeremy got, but a cowboy outfit is a cowboy outfit, and this one had tassels for DAYS.
"Oh no, are you seeing hallucinations of famous comedian Wayne Brady and his fictional candy-striper wife, Greyn Wady?" Wayne Gray stood, horrified, clad in Dexter's lab gloves.
"You're-", he turned to Wayne (Gray), catching himself, "He's also an accomplished game show host, and it's crazy you got it so specifically because yes."
"This is worst than I thought," said the cat in the hat, having finished wrestling a giant bat.
A loose arrangement of forks and knives in the shape of three owls quickly broke down for Jeremy that the red liquid coming from the box was actually a powerful psychoactive substance, with a primary delivery method of chinos.
Jeremy turned to his least favorite customer Wayne (Gray, not Brady who turned out to be not only an accomplished show host but also a figment of his psycho-psychotic induced brain state), grabbed him by the arms, and shouted "PLEASE, I must deliver exactly one-hundred packages by nightfall or Amazon will kill my first-born chi-" but what was this? Not Wayne Gray, Wayne Brady, or Grayne Wady at all, but his younger self, on the very day he chose to apply to Amazon.
Jeremy vomited himself out of his own body, and tiny Jeremy looked very disappointed in Big Jeremy, who was not keeping it tight and straight vibin'.
Tiny Jeremy, who was impeccably dressed in his own tiny suit, shook his head as he pulled out a flip phone, flipping it open, then closed decisively. "That was Wayne," Tiny Jeremy said, "Gray, to clarify, since that's a thing right now, and he says you have a rough case of-", he trailed off as he not-so-subtly scoped out a potentially real and actual Wayne Gray striding into the room, who did admittedly look fine to non-fucked up at lookin' at stuff eyes.
Tiny Jeremy's tiny hand sailed across his tiny face, also somehow hurting normal Jeremy's normal-sized face, "Pull it TOGETHER, my normal sized self, homo-erotic thoughts are only here to distract you from your true desire," his tiny eyes darted back to the scrumptious tan door's knob. Knob also means penis sometimes, but intrusive thoughts like that were EXACTLY what Lil' Jeremy was talking about, and normal Jeremy waved the thought away by quickly approaching the knob to inspect it from no less than 3 inches away.
"You go in," said Tiny Jeremy, "I'll call for-" he looked down at his flip-phone to find it was actually a Nintendo Gameboy Advanced SP. Someone had left Tetris running, probably someone who thought he was made of AA batteries, when clearly he was made from Jeremy.
Luckily for tiny Jeremy, Normal sized Jeremy was the best a man could get. His soap bar for maximum gliding-action was getting a bit discolored, but those 4 blades still had down-to-the-skin action, baby, and he used his hands which were probably not actually disposable razors like he suspected they might be to open that cool door.
He opened the door, which surprisingly slid into the wall… much like his Amazon truck door would, and as he stepped through, his normal-sized Jeremy feet slapped the gray, rain-splashed pavement of none other than his least favorite customer's sidewalk. He didn't need to know where his shoes had gone, maybe they were part of Wayne's package, but what he DID know was that the rain felt like the summers of his childhood, back in Macon, where things were simpler and being barefoot wasn't yet punishable by death.
His pocket vibrated, and he instinctively pulled out his Nintendo Gameboy Advanced SP, unfolding it, and answering, "Hello, Amazon speaking, this is Jeremy."
"Hi Jeremy, this is your whole graduating class from high-school", fifty voices spoke in cacophonous unison, none of whom were cool enough to play on a Nintendo Gameboy Advanced SPand thus could not observe that the Nintendo Gameboy Advanced SPdoes, in fact, fold, but does not have good games for it apart from Time Jumpers, a game Jeremy would get around to coding one of these days.
He hung that shit up real quick, because, NO.
"No," he said to himself, "I don't think I will do that," and he listed all the names of the people who had spoke in that call so as to banish them back to Phoneimus-Prime, the phone realm where phone ghosts from high school are destined to walk until the next Epoch, and got back in his Amazon truck or van depending on who you ask.
"Hey, Mr. Emy, I was about to deliver your package, you didn't have to come all the way out here," Jeremy looked up to see Wayne Gray in the driver's seat, in the classic yet totally out of style Amazon vest.
"Please, Mr. Emy is my father", Jeremy straightened his business tie for the incumbent business of Amazon man, "call me Jeff Bezos, which isn't my name but wouldn't that be cool wink emoji" he said out loud as words.
Wayne opened his mouth to speak, but red poured out, in a way that was all-encompassing. The Red began to slosh around like one of those cool water park rides, but not the ones you have to climb tons of stairs for and stuff, one of those ones where you get in a boat and it pushes you to the top and costs five chlorine-soaked dollars, before it finally spoke.
"Blub, blup-" bubbles formed atop the red, and a tiny Jeremy hand came out, followed by a tiny Jeremy head, "If you want to survive, I must go back in where I came from: say 'ahh'." Normal Jeremy screamed a hearty, meaty scream from his belly, which wasn't exactly what was requested but got the job done, and Tiny Jeremy slid down into the bigger version of himself like one of those water park rides you do have to climb all the stairs for, because Tiny Jeremy is small, and normal Jeremy has stairs on his tie for him to climb up.
He could feel his body roll a constitution check, which evidently came back as a natural 2 - because he survived, but he most certainly did not retain consciousness.
Jeremy had been convulsing on Wayne's doorstep for some time now, preventing the door from closing and attracting the attention of most nearby neighbours.
Wayne sighed, picking up his package and closing the door on the convulsing delivery driver, muttering about "they don't make prime like they used to."
The package was a bit heavier than he expected, but you never know what you'll get in a blind box from Funtastical Dr. Freakenstein's Funstuff, a wholly owned subsidiary of PepsiCo.
Jeremy opened one eye, sighing once he realized Wayne was fully gone, and was immediately offered a helping hand, which he took graciously and smiled to his friend as he was pulled up, saying "I thought that was going to get more laughs, but we'll get him next time, famous comedian and successful show host, Wayne Brady."
"Haha, you're so cute when you're doing a TikTok prank involving you faking your death on a stranger's doorstep," said Wayne Brady, taking Jeremy in his big strong robot arms.
"Now our time portal also goes straight up my cat's owner's Hyundai-loving jiggly anus, Snookums."