Original story below, but you can find a revamped version in my collection "The Joke's on Me: and six other twisted stories of absurdity and regret", available on Amazon!
~~~~~
The only reason I did it was because I thought it’d be funny. People prank new employees all the time, don’t they? And it wasn’t like I expected her to fall for it, I just wanted us to break the ice and share a few laughs. Working at this gas station convenience store was slow, especially after midnight, and I just wanted to leave her in good spirits.
I was alone in the store that evening, bored out of my mind as I waited for the new girl Mr. Sahir told me to train. As I daydreamed, my eyes wandered over to the yellow paper signs Mr. Sahir had taped up on the wall.
• No Stealing Allowed
• No Guns Allowed
• No Knives Allowed
• No Smoking Allowed
• No Arguing Allowed
• No Damaging Property Allowed
You get the idea. Everything you don’t want in your gas station and store was typed out and taped up. There were dozens of yellow paper signs, all overlapping. I didn’t think the customers could even read them, yet we never had any of the problems posted, so they must’ve done the trick somehow.
It was those signs that gave me an idea. Instead of rules for customers, I could make up a rules list for the new hire and pretend all us employees had to follow it. Hilarious ideas were already popping in my mind, and I grabbed my phone and jotted them down. I ended up with the following:
~~~
Sahir’s Gas, Guzzle, n' Go:
Graveyard Shift Rules
1. When you start your shift at 12am, you must turn the radio on, tune it between any two stations so that they overlap, and play it at medium volume.
2. If you hear a soccer game being announced in enthusiastic Spanish from outside, you must grab the vuvuzela from under the counter and blow as hard as you can for twenty seconds.
3. A thick purple liquid will periodically ooze from beneath the soda fridge. Do not mop it. Instead, crush salt and vinegar chips and sprinkle them over the puddle. Once it turns a pale grey, place appropriate signs around the puddle and leave it to harden. At the end of your shift, crack the brittle remains, sweep them up, and throw them away.
4. If you smell lutefisk at any time, you must leave your post immediately, hide in the bathroom, turn off the lights, and hum the Titanic song. Once you are done, it is safe to exit.
5. Every Thursday, a large woman with braces and half a mustache will enter the store and ask about Joe. You must nod and point towards pump #4. Do not speak to her. Do not make any sounds. Remain standing still until she exits.
6. If it is a full moon, take a newspaper, spread it out on the floor beside the ice freezer outside, and sprinkle Skittles on top. Once done, go back inside. At the end of your shift, check the newspaper. If the Skittles are still there, throw everything away. If an odorless black substance is left in their place, wear gloves, collect it in an empty water bottle, and close it tight before throwing everything away.
7. On the third of every month, a fluorescent orange Hummer will stop at pump #1 and honk three times. You must run out immediately and dance the jig as you fill their car with $100 of gas. Once done, the driver's side window will open a crack and two $100 bills will slide out. Accept them with a curtsy. Remain outside until the Hummer drives away and is out of sight.
8. A 7-year-old girl wearing a cowboy hat while chewing tobacco may drop by between 3am and 4am. If she doesn't speak, ignore her and she will leave in a few minutes. If she starts yodeling, you must clap and stomp to the rhythm of We Will Rock You by Queen until she is done.
9. At exactly 4:44am, you will hear rustling from the chips’ stand. Ignore it. If the rustling continues past 5am, or if it turns into crunching, you must burp. If you cannot produce one, fake one. Continue burping until the rustling and/or crunching stops.
10. Sir Ris drops by on windless dawns. He will select a tabloid magazine and a pack of cigarettes. If he requests menthol, carry on as usual. If he requests otherwise, you must open the pack of cigarettes, break each stick, pile the tobacco on the magazine, and arrange them artistically. You must then step back and let Sir Ris appraise your work. If he snorts the tobacco, nod and ring up his items. If he hocks a loogie on the floor, you must try again.
~~~
See? They were completely ridiculous and utterly harmless rules.
I still wanted the list to look legit at first glance, though, so I went to Mr. Sahir’s office and printed it out on the same yellow paper he used for his signs. I then creased it, frayed the edges, and even left coffee stains here and there to give it a well-worn look.
The girl came by at around 11:30pm, and I knew right away she’d get a kick out of the rules. She had a punk rock thing going on, and she dropped her motorcycle helmet on the counter with a playful smirk as she introduced herself as Brooke.
After some back and forth, some training, and some flirting, I gave her the list. I put on my most solemn expression as I stressed how important it was to follow them, and she read them with one eyebrow cocked, her smile growing until she burst into laughter.
“Do any of the new employees fall for this?” she asked, looking up at me with a chuckle.
“I actually wrote it just for you,” I replied, trying to stop myself from grinning like a moron.
She tilted her head, her eyes twinkling. “Then how about you give me your number in case anything happens that you forgot to write down?”
I don’t think I could’ve said my phone number any faster.
“So, is there really a vuvuzela back here?” she asked as she walked around and peeked under the counter.
“Haha, no, we keep it in the back,” I joked.
She smiled and sat down, propping her legs up. “So, Miles, are you leaving or will you stay and help me face the yodeling cowgirls and purple puddles?”
I really really wanted to stay, but I had early classes tomorrow. “No, I’ve given you enough training, young Padawan, now I leave this fortress in your hands.”
“I won’t fail you.”
“I know.”
I tried to be suave as I flung my bag on my shoulder, but I knocked over a box of chocolates and spent a few minutes collecting them with a red face while she laughed. I put everything back, shot her a tight smile, and ran out of the store, beating myself up for being such a klutz, but apparently she was into klutzes because she texted me once I got home.
(I had to dig through backup files on my cloud to find these texts since I lost my phone, but I'm getting ahead of myself.)
Brooke
Hey, check it out. Rule numero uno
▶️--------------------------------------------- 0:11
12:20 a.m.
She’d recorded a little voice message of the overlapping radio stations, and that was it for me. I knew she was the one. We chatted for almost an hour before I worked up the courage to ask her out.
Me
How about coffee tomorrow before your shift?
1:12 a.m.
~~~
Brooke
Boy, u really went all out!
1:12 a.m.
~~~
Me
Haha ok don't rub it in. Dinner instead?
1:12 a.m.
~~~
Brooke
LOL no I mean the lady. How much did u pay her to wear half a moustache?
1:12 a.m.
~~~
Me
Haha what?
1:12 a.m.
~~~
Brooke
LOL and she’s actually got braces! Is she gonna ask bout Joe now?
1:13 a.m.
She did! This is a riot! I love it!
1:13 a.m.
So should I point to pump 4 or do I clap for a good performance or what?
1:13 a.m.
~~~
Me
I have no idea what your talking about. Are you pranking me back or something?
1:13 a.m.
Hello?
1:14 a.m.
If she’s real take a pic haha
1:14 a.m.
Earth to Brooke
1:15 a.m.
Okk you got me. It’s a good prank haha
1:21 a.m.
Where are you?
1:36 a.m.
~~~
I stopped messaging after that. I didn’t want to get all grumpy in the chat. I loved a good prank, but I was upset she started it just as I was asking her out. First I thought that was her subtle way of saying she wasn’t interested, even though she’d been super blunt the entire time we were talking.
But then I figured she just wanted the last laugh.
And I didn’t want to give it to her.
I knew I had early classes, but my pride was more important. I never backed down from a prank war. I grabbed my keys and drove back to Sahir's Gas, Guzzle, n' Go.
After parking beside Brooke's motorcycle, I found the loudest Spanish soccer announcer possible and blared the video through my car's speakers. Leaving the engine running, I snuck over and peeked through the store window, trying to stop myself from giggling as I imagined Brooke searching in panic for a vuvuzela.
She wasn’t behind the counter.
Her bag and motorcycle helmet were still on top, though.
I walked in. The radio was still playing the overlapping stations. I made my way to the back, but Brooke wasn’t there either.
Frowning, I returned to my car and shut everything down before checking the motorcycle. It had to be hers, it was the only vehicle here other than mine. Believing she'd taken the prank to the extreme, I walked back inside and announced that she was the prank queen and she could come out now.
And that was when I noticed the thick, purple puddle oozing from beneath the soda fridge.
At the time, I couldn’t believe Brooke went to all these lengths. I had no idea what she could’ve used to make slime that purple and gooey, so I poked it with my foot …
... and I gasped as my shoe began sizzling.
I jerked back, dropping my phone as I yanked my shoe off. The slime had eaten through the sole and singed my sock, but it hadn’t contacted my skin yet. I looked down in fearful bewilderment, and I gawked at the sight of my phone. Or, what remained of my phone, pieces of plastic, metal, and glass dissolving in the growing, pulsating puddle.
This couldn’t be Brooke’s doing.
Unless she was a psychopath.
What even was this substance?
And it was at that moment that a terrible odor filled the store. I gagged and pulled my collar over my nose and mouth, but it wasn't enough as I felt my dinner rising up. I ran to the bathroom, slammed the door, and vomited in the toilet. After my retching became unproductive, I leaned against the wall ...
... and I froze when I heard heavy creaking coming from outside.
Holding my breath to avoid the putrid smell, I placed my ear against the door, and my blood ran cold when I heard a deep, thudding heartbeat resonating beneath the creaks. Goosebumps spread across my skin as the heartbeat got louder and the creaking became more rapid, and a new sound joined the terrifying chorus.
Gurgled breathing.
As if that wasn’t enough to make me piss my pants, freezing water began seeping from beneath the door. I yelped and clambered up on the toilet, trembling as I tried to figure out what was going on. This couldn’t be Brooke.
But if this wasn’t her ... then who was it?
And what happened to Brooke?
The water had already covered the floor of the tiny bathroom, and I covered my mouth when I saw dead fish floating on its surface. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t have my phone. There was no one around.
The gurgled breathing got more and more labored as the creaking sped up and the heartbeat amplified, and I began hyperventilating, which just filled my lungs with the rancid smell hovering around me.
Lutefisk.
The smell was lutefisk. I recognized it from when my cousin tried and failed to make that fickle dish.
My thoughts went back to the list in disbelief. The purple puddle, the lutefisk, the half mustachioed lady that Brooke mentioned. I had no idea how any of this was possible, and a small part of me still hoped this was all an elaborate prank to make me make a fool of myself ... but I caved.
Stretching my arm, I turned off the lights and remained balanced on the toilet as I hummed the Titanic song to the best of my ability. It’d been years since I’d heard it, and I worried it wouldn’t be enough, but to my terrified delight, the gurgled breathing now turned into gurgled humming as I gained an eerie duet partner.
As we hummed, the creaking slowed down and the thudding pulse ebbed, and I took a tearful breath of relief when the overpowering stench of lutefisk was replaced by that of my own vomit still chilling in the toilet.
After I hummed the last note, I held my breath and waited. It was dead silent. I opened the lights. The floor was bone-dry, not a fish to be seen. Climbing down, I flushed my mess with a shaky hand as I looked at my sweaty face in the mirror, my eyes wide with utter stupefaction.
For a moment, I thought I’d imagined it all. It was late, I’d been working all day, and I hadn’t been sleeping well. It made more sense than accepting I had just dueted with a disembodied drowning voice.
I walked out.
Everything seemed fine.
I made my way to the counter. The list was there, right beside Brooke’s bag and helmet...and her phone. On the floor, there was a yellow puddle. Urine.
Everything was not fine.
Something had terrified Brooke enough for her to piss her pants, leave everything, and run. Unless …
No, I didn't want to think about that.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when a loud horn honked three times. I turned to the window, and my jaw fell open when I saw a fluorescent orange Hummer parked at pump number one.
I didn’t know how, but everything on my list seemed to be coming true.
A Hummer was driven by people. They weren’t disembodied sounds from behind a door. I could talk to them, see how all this was possible.
I approached the vehicle with hesitant steps, and with a deep breath, I knocked on the tinted window of the driver’s side. The moment my knuckles touched the glass ...
... they fused to it.
Panicking, I tried to yank my hand away, but the window just seemed to suck it in. I yelled for help as I banged my other fist against the glass, only for that hand to meld as well. My heart floundered in my chest as I struggled, but everything I did just made my situation worse. Finding myself elbows deep, I did the only thing I could think of.
I jigged.
The more I hopped, shimmied, and kicked, the more the window released my arms, and I stumbled away when I regained my freedom. Terrified of what else could happen, I continued to dance as I filled up the tank with a hundred dollars worth of gas. While still jigging, I stood by the window, and I accepted the two hundred-dollar bills with a curtsy before I remained outside until they drove out of view.
Panting with exertion and apprehension, I made my way back inside, and I gasped at the size of the throbbing, purple puddle. It had taken up an entire quarter of the store.
I rushed towards the chip aisle in a frantic frenzy, ripping open the salt and vinegar chips, crushing them, and flinging the crumbs over the slime.
Even after I’d depleted the entire salt and vinegar selection, the puddle still hadn’t changed color. Desperate, I crushed the salted chips and poured vinegar over them before I hurled the soggy concoction over the ooze. After half an hour, I fell to my knees in exhausted relief when the puddle finally turned a pale grey.
I wished I had time to breathe after that, because a little girl in a cowboy hat walked through the door, spitting tobacco on the chipbag-littered floor. I froze, drawing a blank at the worst possible moment.
I had no idea what I was supposed to do.
The list was on the counter, but I didn’t know if I should move or not.
I stayed on my knees, watching her peruse the aisles as if it was perfectly natural for a kid to be shopping at 3:15am.
She began yodeling, but my memory continued to fail me. I stared at her, twitching, not sure what I should do.
She glared at me as her yodelling became more shrill, and I winced. Doing nothing wasn’t working, so I took the chance and inched my way towards the counter ...
... only to yelp as a whip snapped in front of me.
I turned to the girl in shock, and I backed away in horror. Whips had replaced her arms, and her body had elongated like a snake, several more whip-like appendages sprouting from her sides.
Her yodeling had now become a high-pitched hiss as another whip snapped beside me, and I scrambled up and ran in the opposite direction, locking myself in Mr. Sahir’s office. His computer worked, and I managed to look up the list on my cloud.
Clap and stomp to We Will Rock You.
How could I forget?
I began clapping and stomping to the rhythm as loud as I could, sweat cascading down my already glazed face as I feared it was too late. She was done yodeling. This wasn’t going to work anymore.
I sank into a chair, out of breath and near a mental breakdown as I closed my ears, the hissing beyond intolerable.
That’s where I am now, hiding in Mr. Sahir’s office with tissues stuffed in my bleeding ears. There’s no phone in here, but I did post on all my social media accounts. Help is on the way, but I don't know if they'll get to me in time. Or if they'll be able to stop the hissing whip-snake girl and any of the other horrors I'd inadvertently created.
I don't know what happened to Brooke, I just hope she made it somewhere safe. If I’m not found in time, I just wanted to get this out. Brooke, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.
The End
~~~
(Read on for a Behind the Scenes)