Just the Coffee Boy. Promise.

Tommy Will Never Lose a Job Again

Tubbo laughs like that

"Alright well if you want to man the cash register I've got a bit of paperwork that I need to get in order to keep leasing the place. Call or knock if you need something."

Tommy gave a mock salute, "Rightio Mr. Sam Sir!"

Sam laughed again before disappearing in the abyss called his office.

Tommy tapped the numbers on the cash register boredly, going through the motions again and again of how to work it.

Turns out having a job is boring. Really boring.

So Tommy got an idea.

Now generally when Tommy gets ideas they turn out less than optimal. Like the one time he tried to scare some geese away from their picnic area and ended up with a sprained wrist and red peck marks all over him. Not his best moment he'll admit. However, his friend's ideas were pure evil. One time Ranboo had gotten the idea that he should give Tommy cotton candy.

Ranboo had almost lost his eyes, all two of them.

Anyway, Tommy was going to steal some records and hide them. S tier ideas here people.

Tommy shook himself from his wonderful thoughts and straightened at the soft chime of the door bell.

A lady with bright pink hair walked in dragging along what looked like a Ram hybrid.

"-I swear Puffy it's so cool, Wil's got his music in here now!" Ah they were looking for someone's music that he can help with.

"Oh hello! I expected Sam, didn't know he was hiring!" The pink haired lady came right up to the counter and introduced herself.

"He's not."

"Oh, well I'm Niki, and this is Puffy." Tommy shook her hand hesitantly and nodded in Puffy's direction, who nodded back.

Tommy shuffled awkwardly. The Ram hybrid, Puffy, was just staring at him.

"So, are you guys looking for something in particular, or do you want to talk to Sam..." he trailed off waiting for a response.

"Yeah, my friend got his music put on vinyls and we heard that you were selling them."

Tommy walked around the counter heading to the area where everything was labeled with a genre.

"Got a genre or a name so I can try to find it or am I left to guess aimlessly?"

Niki laughed and Puffy chuckled a bit.

These people are weird.

"Yeah, it's indie rock I think and the name's Wilbur Soot which might be more helpful."

Wilbur soot.

He flicked through a box of records.

"Nope don't got it."

"But-"

"We don't have any of Wilbur Soot's music," He hefted up a stack of vinyls that were clearly Wilbur Soot's and started to speed walk into the back rooms.

"Can we see them?"

"Nope goodbye!"

He threw the records onto a desk in the break room and watched the cameras until they decided to leave.

They did not leave.

Instead they waltzed behind the counter heading straight to Sam's office. They knocked on the door as Tommy was left alone, sentenced to watch the horrors unfold.

"Oh hi Niki, Puffy, what can I do? I hope Tommy didn't give you any trouble." Sam opened the door wider inviting them into his office.

"Oh no not much anyway, just stole and hid all of Wil's records, which we wanted to see." Puffy spoke. Her voice was nice. Like that one therapist he had but not patronizing.

Sam clapped a hand onto Puffy's shoulder, "I'll grab 'em, give me a sec."

Oh no.

He was going to lose his job.

He fucked everything up and it was his first day. He'd even originally called off for the day and Sam didn't fire him. Surely his patience ran out somewhere, right?

He can't breathe.

"Tommy?"

He can't breathe. He can't hear. Where is he? Where's Sam and Niki and Puffy? What's happening? I can't breathe help-

"Tommy, answer me, where are you?"

Help I can't breath, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts-

"Breathe."

Tommy's eyes snapped open. Sam knelt next to him, both his hands on Tommy's shoulders. "S-sam?"

"Yeah kiddo?"

"Am I going to get fired?"

Tommy looked at Sam.

Tear tracks coated his, admittedly, grimy face. His eyes were puffy and red from crying. Tommy held his chest gingerly.

"I'm not going to fire you Tommy. I'll never fire you."

Tommy met his eyes. "Promise?"

"Promise."

Lier