Everyone knows the corner store. Most people walk here it's so close. Most people say, "I'm just going to run down to the 'corner store'". I'm sure you know it.

He tossed his change across the metal counter and I counted each individual coin while gritting my teeth in a smile. He casually checked his phone while I slid each penny across the counter into my hand. After the coins were counted, I handed him his pack of cigarettes and he walked away while slapping the small rectangle across his palm. I said, "Have a nice day." He responded with nothing and I clenched my fists, putting my head down to stare at the ground while saying hello to the next customer in the line.

I was nothing if not a good worker.

This was a relatively normal day for me. Innumerable customers filing into the store, treating me like garbage. Less than garbage really. Like I was invisible. I was less-than, infinitely.

The tinkle of the bell introduced a prominent member of the local church with her curly white hair and jam-jar lenses resting over her thin nose. She lumbered through the store for an hour and a half with a collapsing vertebra like some Lovecraftian horror. She brought her cans of cat food to the counter and told me to bag each individual can in their own separate plastic bag so that it would be easier for her to carry. There were twenty-four of the round tin objects and with each new bag I slid across the counter, a new customer accumulated in the line behind her. My nostrils flared. My eyes bulged. She stopped and told me a five-minute joke where she forgot the lines along the way. The line grew longer. I briefly imaged strangling the life from her; I could see the life energy leave her small wrinkly body. She left and I greeted the next customer.

As day turned to night, I watched the meat dogs rolling over each metal cylinder, leaving sweat marks across them. The overhead florescent flickered and I sighed, studying my face in the reflection of the sneeze guard.

As I reached for the glass door to lock it, a large man brushed through the entrance, through me. "Walk much?" He said, straightening the red ball cap on his head. I went to stand behind the register. We should have been closed a minute ago.

There was no car in the parking lot but my own, illuminated by the glow of a streetlight.

He proceeded to shop for fifteen minutes, pushing the small black wire buggy across the ancient carcinogenic tiles.

I crouched behind the counter and waited.

He came to the counter and pressed the small metal bell. I did not move from my hiding spot. He lifted the metal bell from the counter and began slamming it over over over over over over over over.

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I stood, broom handle in hand and jabbed the thing into his throat with all of my strength. I heard a strange cartilage-shattering noise. He toppled backwards, reaching at his buggy for support, but it was on wheels and he instead only pulled his beef jerky, dog treats, duct tape on top of himself. He reached for his throat, gurgling, gasping, groping at the empty air in front of him. Then he was still. I rounded the counter to kick his foot and be sure he wouldn't be getting back up. No signs of life.

I smiled.

After counting the day's earnings and pocketing the fat stack of green backs, I destroyed the much-outdated videotapes the boss used to survey the store using magnets and a hammer. I hid the body in the foundation, and slammed my face against the hard metal counter, sending out a rush of hot red blood down over my white work shirt. Then I phoned the boss. "We've been robbed." I said.

After assuring my boss I'd be fine, and speaking with the police, I told them the assailant was wearing a red ball cap. They told me they'd find him. He couldn't have gotten far, of course.

I drove home, washed myself, and slept like I'd never slept before.

I awoke early, got ready for work, and went on my way. The previous night's shenanigans were behind me.

After locking up the front, I rounded the back of the store to the small, latched opening at the base of the building's foundation. I dragged the body from its hiding spot and pulled it in through the back.

At some time or another, the corner store must have made its own tubed sausages because all of the equipment was still there. I removed the flesh from his stinking body and began making dogs. I ground his bones. Everything else I could not use, I returned to the hiding spot.

The following day, I set the new sausages out on the rack and let them cook. The tubing bubbled strangely, but overall, the aroma was warming, and the regulars took notice. I sold half his body the first day. The second day, he was gone.

I would be lying if I said I hadn't indulged. What can I say? They were better than expected.

The second night, the nightmares started. They were about a man trapped in my stomach. He was small. Small enough to fit inside of my abdomen. He cupped his hands together and attempted to yell up my throat.

After going into work, some regulars tinkled that little bell, asking if I had 'anymore of those new dogs'. I shook my head. They left in a huff, crossing their arms.

"I had that crazy dream again last night," I overheard two customers speaking from an aisle over, "Me too." Responded their friend. "Let's go see if they've got those tasty sausages."

The man in my dreams began pushing his fingers into my muscles, scratching, clawing, trying to free himself. I awoke with bruises across my abdomen and it hurt to stand upright. We sold out of Pepto and Antacids.

I woke from the nightmare of the man in my stomach, covered in sweat. Not sweat. Blood. There was an index finger sticking from my belly button, from inside me. I winced, studying it in the mirror, and pushed the finger back inside.

I showered and wrapped my midsection in gauze; sitting on my bed, I tried to logic myself out of my predicament. I had unleashed something. I had to feed it.

After closing up for the day, a familiar face peered in through the glass door with hands cupped around her face. She had curly white hair and wore glasses. "You still open?" she pleaded. I unlocked the door with a smile.