Crapola Convenience

Part 1

My name is Erl Croft, I am 33 years old, I have lived in Voidview Minnesota since I was 8 years old. On a random May afternoon a thought came to my mind, 'Erl you're 23 years of age, you live with your parents, and you've never seen anything beyond the state line, pathetic.' I needed to leave the nest, and so my job search began, and continued, and continued, for 8 months. No business in town had even the slightest interest of hiring a poorly groomed high school dropout, aside of course from Doug Manager, a robust man who looked like he was made from bread dough, I walked into Crapola Convenience on a chilly January evening, seeing the help wanted sign on the window among the cigarette ads. The store was small, about 9 rows of shelves poorly stocked with all a passerby could need, the store stank of what my brain recognized as dried vomit and rotting animals covered by bleach and other cleaning chemicals.

"Here for the opening?"

Said the fat man behind the glass at the front counter, his thin mustache bounced on his face as he spoke. "Oh, uh yeah I am." I responded. He looked me up and down before leaning backwards and spitting into a trash can, "You got it." He said with muted enthusiasm. My face must have lit up because before I could thank him he put up a hand and wheezed out a sentence between coughs "You start Monday, I'll have your uniform and allat ready by then." I thanked him calmly and shook his hand before leaving to enjoy my finale unemployed weekend. I told my parents that night and they were euphoric at the idea of me having the funds to move out soon, I got a big dinner that night and my dad told me he loved me for the first time since I was 12.

When Monday came Doug gave me a red vest with 2 big yellow embroidered C's on the right breast and a name tag, he taught me how to work the register and the ice machine before disappearing into the break room. At this point I've been working here for almost 10 years, and I've seen just about everything there is to see. For some examples: There's this little thing, about 3 foot tall, paper white round head with these piercing yellow cat eyes, brown curly hair that drags the floor along with the sleeves of it's little blue sweater. Found out about 6 years ago that it's name is Kreeg (I hate that name, those syllables in that order remind me of that gross trapped mucus at the back of your throat when you're sick) anyway it comes in here like twice a week and dies. I don't think I've ever seen it walk out the door, it just always finds a way to kill itself in the most over to top and messy way possible. Guess who gets to clean that up. Weird little bastard, Not that a single resident of Voidview is in any way normal but you get what I mean.

But aside from the bane of my existence there's also this guy named Eric, this free floating head with a smartass grin and these, hollow white eye holes, the type that just stare right through you Yknow? And a pair on bare feet that walk below him on the ground, he only seems to have hands when he's holding something or like, pointing I guess. Anywho he comes in a couple times a month and asks for these high end machines and computer parts which we definitely wouldn't have, when I inform him of this he asks to talk to my manager, so I get him Doug and they disappear into the freezer for like 2 hours and he trots his goofy ass out the door with a heavy burlap sack.

There's Mrs. Boneshrew, a woman who has to be at least 600 years old, she just meanders around the shelves from opening to closing, harassing customers mostly, I called the cops on her a few times when I started but Bert and Benny (the only cops I ever see in town) are completely incompetent so I gave up on that pretty quickly. But the 2 customers who interest me the most Ironically are the least odd. 2 dudes around my age, their names are Curtis and Lewis, but I don't think I've ever heard anyone call them that, I only have the luxury of knowing their names from seeing their ID's, no to Doug, myself, and the customers that cower at their presence they are 'Scratch and Tall-Skinny'. Scratch is a 6 foot pasty white boy with a bad buzz cut, one of his front teeth is so badly chipped he may as well not have it, his nose is very visibly broken, and he has a thin but very visible scar above and below his right eye. He comes in with the other every day. And asks for,

"A pack of menthol Cockroachs long." (Our cheapest cigarettes, being only 0.50 a pack, they are purchased only by homeless single mothers, and Scratch.)

In a high pitch ear grading voice that almost reminds me of Gilbert Gottfried. Tall-Skinny contrary to his name is only half my height, I wouldn't be able to see him without leaning over the counter if not for his hair. It's a poofy mess that adds about 5 inches to his pathetic stature. He has a well kept patchy beard sprouting from his plump dark face. Whenever Scratch comes in he tails him and after our transaction is complete he asks me:

"Have you been robbed today?"

In a low, relaxing almost sleepy voice, and laughs as they leave. Anywho I've waisted my entire break period yapping about customers, so I suppose I'll have to actually tell some stories next time, oh well, the register calls, and based on the sounds of chaos out in the front I'm guessing so does the mop.