Fast forward a few days later–it was the day after their debut. I missed it due to work. Long story, but I had to stay over. Honestly, I wasn’t going to watch it live anyway. Intro streams are them introducing themselves, so there’s no need to catch it on-air. Well, you could say that about about every stream, but I digress.
I was home, on the computer before work. I was on both Rex and Kinkos’s Twitter and YouTube pages. They had doubled their Twitter following and YouTube sub count during that time. They finally had more YouTube subscriptions than Twitter followers, which satisfied me for some reason.
There was an abundance of fanart flooding Twitter for both VTubers. The love was pouring in from every side of the VTuber fandom it seemed. One stream and they were already adored by all. The cynical side of me wondered how much of this love was genuine, and how much of it was ceremonial. The ritual of new waves of VTubers being introduced. They’ve still only streamed once, each stream lasting exactly thirty minutes. Really, how much did you know about these tubers? Well, they’re bound to have a ‘past life’, but unless you recognized their voice from something else, you wouldn’t know. In that sense, we still didn’t know what was in store for us. Both of their streams were introductions. Basically, them running through a PowerPoint of what hobbies/interests they have, any special skills they have, and what games/anime/manga/etc. they like. It's a bit corporate-sounding, but in this situation, it’s better to get an idea of who you’re watching before the regularly scheduled streams. These were people who were granted an audience. Sounded uncharitable, but it was the fact of the matter. They had a built-in advantage. But the flip side of that was that there was a reason why they were granted the built-in advantage. AnyClover wouldn’t let just anyone be one of their VTubers. It was a brutal process.
The process for becoming an AnyClover VTuber took months. The first step, and the step that 99.9% of the applicants failed at, was the application. In order to be considered for the role, you had to fill out a Google form telling all about yourself, your skills, and what you want to bring to the fold. A short video introduction was also needed. In my opinion, the video was what mattered–everything else was perfunctory. As long as you were an adult and able to fill out a form, you could let your intro video do the talking for you. Not like I knew from experience, but who watches a VTuber because they’re good at filling out forms?
After a month or so of sorting through the applications (for companies like AnyClover, they receive thousands for each audition they hold), they select a handful of the applicants and move on to the interview process. I can’t even start to imagine what questions are asked in those, but I know that there are multiple stages, which means they take that shit seriously. Just because you made it further than the 99.9% of the applicants doesn’t mean you’re home-free. Recording a short video for your application and being grilled in an interview were two very separate things. Just thinking about it gives me anxiety, and I have no interest in even doing it! Failing at that stage would be much more painful than not being selected for the interview process at all. But you have to be in it to win it, and being pain-aversive was no way to live.
It was only after those several rounds of interviews that the chosen ones were notified of their newfound job. But that wasn’t the end of it. A thorough onboarding process was necessary. If the selected VTuber other online personas, it was usually during that time that they ceased all activity from that creative venture. It took another month or two for them to be fully prepared for their debut stream–part of me thought it was unnecessary for the process to take this long, but I didn’t know the process. That would be something I would have to ask Michael about. I assumed it contained way more than just ‘Here are the dos and don'ts of streaming for AnyClover’. Along with their debut streams, Rex and Kinkos also released their ‘debut single’ last night as well. I doubt it’s anything other than a generic-sounding idol-pop song, so I’m not listening to it. That being said, just because the song is probably cut-and-paste doesn’t mean they didn’t put a ton of effort into it. Rex and Kinkos probably spent weeks perfecting their lines–that is, if they already knew how to sing. If not, AnyClover more than likely paid for them to have singing lessons, and who knows how long those would take. Even if they didn’t join AnyClover to be an ‘idol’ per se, it didn’t excuse them from having their own song. These people likely knew what they were getting into when they signed up. Hell, being able to release music under the AnyClover label could be the driving force behind them signing up in the first place. Anyone could release a song, but it took the backing of a proven hit-maker (in the VTuber space) like AnyClover to guarantee it would garner attention. The fans will decide if it deserves traction.
This arduous process, if one thing, showed that AnyClover didn’t just let anyone be a VTuber. Even if it seemed like they had no talent at times, they by all means had it. Being nonchalant and casual in front of thousands of people was one of them. Of the thousands that applied, at least some of them had to contain at least an ounce of talent. Not just the talent to entertain, but also to sing, dance, draw, and who knows what else. An average Joe or Jane couldn’t waltz in and steal a spot from someone who deserved it. I’m sure there’s nepotism within the AnyClover organization, but that had to be confined to the corporate side. If it leaked over to talent I would be surprised. AnyClover were kingmakers, but you can only polish a turd so much. If someone like me somehow got in due to being Michael’s roommate, the luster would wear off fast. I’m sure I could maintain a hundred-viewer average to Michael’s five-thousand-viewer average, but AnyClover wasn’t in the game of supporting small fry. Plus I wouldn’t play the game like Michael and others do, which would leave viewers with a sour taste. And I’m too political in the first place. I would alienate everyone who doesn’t have my specific type of neurosis.
Michael had to know about Rex and Kinkos for months before they were announced to the wide world. Violet as well. The fact that they could keep the secret for months was impressive in its own right. Anytime they could’ve told me in confidence, knowing that even if I knew the secret, I had no one to tell it to. But they didn’t. I didn’t care either way, but it would be one hell of a secret to know.
All I wanted to know is if they could trade for Juliet–I know that’s not how it works, but I’d be willing to trade my next five debuting VTubers for her to come over to AnyCloverEN. If that was a no-go, then I hope Violet wouldn’t mind being traded. She’d get over it. Hell, she might like it better over at NijiLive…now that I think about it, it wouldn’t directly lead me any closer to Juliet. I couldn’t ask for her information through Michael, because it would immediately give up the game I was trying to play. The game I shouldn’t try to play in the first place because it was a dangerous one. Hell, I haven’t even logged on to Street Fighter in a week or two. So much for getting into fighting games…to be fair, she hasn’t streamed it any, so I had no encouragement to log on.
My idea of a ‘VTuber Trade’ would be likely laughed off at best and labeled as preposterous by others. When VTubers left groups like AnyClover, they usually left their persona as well. That persona becomes ‘graduated’, as if they stop existing the moment said VTuber stops their activities. Another similarity to idol groups. Theoretically, a VTuber could take their persona to another group and start there, but that would never happen because the rights to the model, name, and likeness belong to the company. I could always move from Hobby Lobby to the Michael’s across town, but I couldn’t keep wearing my Hobby Lobby vest there. That would be asinine. That comparison wasn’t apples to apples, but the point is that while the person behind the VTuber was made it entertaining, the VTuber itself was the property of the company employing the person to be said VTuber. Giving up that would mean, among other things, a loss in revenue. If Michael left AnyClover and joined NijiLive, he couldn’t be Francis Fukuyama anymore–he would have to embrace a new persona, even if it was obvious to viewers who he (formally) was. Even if his name was J. Sakai.
Enough mulling around–I need to get ready for my shift.
----------------------------------------
It was another boring Tuesday at work…most days were boring, but today was even worse than usual. We usually get a lot of business on Mondays, since we’re closed on Sundays. For whatever reason, Tuesdays are slow, which brings us here. To be quite frank, it sucked that it was hard to hide in this store when there was nothing to do. You could go around the store and make displays look neater or whatever, but that got tiring after a while. And the danger of being assigned work by a higher-up was, other than being told to do someone else’s job, that said assigned work could take longer than expected. If orders come in/people come to pick up their order/FedEx comes by to pick up orders/etc., I’d have to abandon the task midway through, which wouldn’t be a good look if I never got back to it. I could explain the situation to said manager, but that doesn’t mean they’ll forgive me for not finishing someone else’s job. Thus, this left me to only go to one place.
The staff men’s restroom.
I’ve been here for about fifteen minutes now. No one has come by. No one has asked where I am. And no order has come in. I was left with nothing to fulfill. It was the perfect hiding place. Too perfect–being here for an extended time, it became mind-numbing as hell, not doing anything but staring at my phone. As it was, my ass was starting to go numb as well.
Being that this was the third time in four hours I had done this, I was all out of shit to shoot out. Trying to force something would only give me a hemorrhoid…although I heard that sitting excessively on a toilet could also give you one. That was something that I would worry about when it became a problem. For now, I was playing 2048 on my phone. I’ve had it on my phone for about a decade now, but have only gotten back into it within the last few weeks. It’s like the only game on my phone that I play. Perhaps I should get into a gacha game…
I was at 512, only two steps from the prized 2048 block. I had gotten it in the past, but I hadn’t gotten it in the last two weeks that I’ve been back playing. I had a feeling that I was about to lose this game. I only had two spaces left and no way to connect the two 256 blocks. I was going to have to try my luck…here goes nothing.
…
Well, I was within a thousand points of beating my high score. A far cry from obtaining an actual 2048 block, but an okay game…okay, it was probably a bad game. I did better when I was playing in high school. I had forgotten whatever tricks I used back then to ‘win’ 2048, which led me to swipe around indiscriminately while playing. Wonder what the meta on 2048 was these days, if it had even changed in the decade since I ‘got good’ at it for a bit.
Letting out a deep sigh, I got off the toilet and preformately flushed it. Now time to wash my hands before getting back to ‘work’. Even if I technically didn’t shit or piss, it would be gross to go out without cleaning my hands. I never understood why so many men refused to wash their hands after peeing. I understood the process of drying your hands was annoying, but it sure beat having shit particles on your fingernail or being known as a man who doesn’t wash his hands in public settings. It was barbaric along with being nasty.
While washing my hands, I felt my phone buzzing…of course, it would go off now. Whatever (or whoever) it was, it would have to wait until I dried my hands.
Upon grabbing what seemed like half a roll of paper towels, I held up my phone and turned on my screen. The notification was from Discord.
[“what size canvas do you have at ur work”]
It was Michael, asking about what kinds of canvas we sold…what a ridiculous question. There were too many to account for, and I wasn’t going to waste my time counting them all up for him.
[“Check online”]
It sounded harsh, but it was his best bet. I contemplated taking a picture of the section and sending it to him, but that wouldn’t help either.
[“yeah i could but there’s no telling if it’s actually there”] Actually there is…or was there? I didn’t go on Hobby Lobby’s website often, so I had no idea if they had a function to show current inventory.
[“What size canvas do you want?]
Being pointlessly obtuse was something that came easy to me, but there wasn’t a reason to be a jackass right now. Especially since I still had nothing to do.
[“idk”]
Thanks–that helps a lot, asshole.
[“I’m assuming this is for a stream, so something on the smaller side would be best. With the way you have to position your cameras and all.”]
It was his call, but I highly doubted that a large canvas would work well on stream…come to think of it, didn’t he already have one? He bought a lot of shit when he previously came here a few months ago, he had to buy a canvas along with all that paint.
[“Didn’t you get a canvas when you came by here that one time?”]
[“no??? i got a lot of paint and that ford that you really wanted me to put together on stream”]
[“Huh, must’ve been mistaken”] This conversation was going nowhere… [“Btw, it’s a Chevy.”] Sorry, had to correct him.
[“whatever…but yea, a canvas on the smaller size would be preferred. soemthing that can fit on my desk”]
By this time, I was out of the restroom and back on the sales floor. Thankfully, the canvas aisle was near the back, so the walk was brief. It only took a few seconds to find one that was appropriate for whatever Michael was planning to do on stream.
[“We have several canvases that would work.”]
[“cool…btw, when do u get off work?”]
[“8.”] I was working till close, which thankfully wasn’t that late here.
[“damn…my stream is supposed to start at 7…is there a way i could get it faster?”]
[“Well, you could come here and buy it yourself.”]
[“no, not like that.”] Then what the fuck do you mean?
[“You’re going to have to come yourself, since we don’t do delivery apps.”] Hobby Lobby was a weird company in the way that they didn’t do business with DoorDash or any of the thousand delivery apps. All of my duties were served either towards shipping merchandise out to customers all across the United States or preparing a BOPIS (Buy Online Pickup In-Store) order. So technically, Michael could order a canvas he wants, and there’s a chance that I’m the one that fulfills that order and FedEx picks it up, taking one to three days what my roommate could pick up in under an hour if he stopped being so damn lazy.
[“well…i really dont want to go…”]
[“Can’t you just move your stream back?”]
I had no idea what his hangup was about going outside, but it was starting to get on my nerves. It wouldn’t be the first time he moved his stream back…if his fans knew that he was postponing a stream because he was afraid to buy something…
Thinking about it, the price of a small canvas couldn’t be that expensive…wow! Under five dollars? That’s a good deal.
Getting back on my phone, I told Michael about my new proposal:
[“How about you buy one through pick up and i bring it home for you? I’ll be back by 8:30, so you can push your stream back until then. Shouldn’t be too long of a postponement.”]
It was a pretty fool-proof idea. It gave Michael what he really wanted, which was to not step one foot outside, and it avoided me having to do any extra work, besides taking said canvas home. There was no one to lecture me about how it was unethical to take someone else’s order home.
[“yeah that’s a great idea. Lets do that”]
I’m sure he was glad that we finally agreed on something. Sometimes it’s like pulling teeth talking to him.
----------------------------------------
After making the rounds in the store, I got a ding from Michael.
[“just put in my order”]
As soon as I read that, I got another ding from my ZEBRA device. Opening the Fulfillment app, I saw that his order had already dropped in. Nice.
I shot him a picture of my ZEBRA and said [“Got it”]. This won’t take a second.
Grabbing a simple 9”x12” canvas that he ordered, I walked to the back to put it in a bag and staple his receipt to it.
Walking back to the BOPIS counter up front, there was only one register open. Damon was on it.
“Yo, you finally got an order Johnny?”
“Eh, this canvas for my roommate. He just put the order in.”
“Why can’t he bring his ass in here and buy it himself?”
“Heh, he’s a homebody so he never goes out.” I’ll be honest, Damon cursing in the front of the store that loud got me good. If you’ve read this far, you know by now that I don’t mind yelling obscenities whenever I hurt myself. But it’s good to be on the hearing end of it for once. Damon was probably barely 18, and was only able to work after four on school days because he was still in high school. I don’t know why, but he put maximum effort into this job. About a month ago, I saw him one Saturday at work early in the morning painting a random wall in the back. Instead of hiring a company, our store manager decided to pay Damon $14 an hour to paint a wall white. Damon didn’t seem to mind. He was having fun for all I knew.
“Does he have a job or something?”
“Uhh,” How do I say this in the shortest amount of time… “...he has a work-from-home job.”
“Huh, good for him.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Damon didn’t seem the type of person to know what a ‘VTuber’ was, so there was no point going down that rabbit hole. Michael technically did have a ‘work-from-home’ job, so I wasn’t lying. I was just glad that he wasn’t inquiring further.
The total came to $4.27, after tax. It really was a good deal.
With my work done for the moment, I decided to walk to the back again.
Declining a fourth visit to the toilet, I decided to brew a new pot of coffee. There was barely enough coffee in the pot for one 6-ounce styrofoam cup. Never mind the fact that the coffee would be cold by now, it was time for it to be thrown out.
This coffee maker did not use pods to make coffee unlike the one back at home. It was a commercial-grade coffee maker that was meant to be used in a break room. In total, you could have twelve cups of coffee brewed, if you counted the burner on top that could hold a second pot. That pot was never filled with coffee, only being used to pour more water into the coffee pot. Well, at least that’s what I did when I brewed a new pot of coffee.
It was surprising that Hobby Lobby had a coffee maker this impressive. At all other retail jobs I had, our brewer was the same as the one I had back home. A basic pod-based coffee maker. It brewed coffee good enough, but it always wasn’t my first choice. Most of the times, the only pods available were ones on clearance and tasted like dirt. There was also ‘Breakfast Blend’, which was a light blend, inoffensive to the stomach, that was common in breakrooms. That was also what most people took, which meant it was first choice at all times. In comparison, we only had ‘COFFEE’ flavor, which…tasted exactly like coffee. Nothing special, which was a good thing. With some creamer and water to cool it off, the coffee would be more than good enough tasting to slurp down quickly. Remember, we’re still on the clock. No slacking! If you have time to sip, then you have time to ship! There wasn’t anything to ship at the moment, but managers can’t read.
This was my first time changing the coffee maker today. It was only something that needed to be done once per shift.
The process was simple when it was all said and done. Sure, it was a bit more messy, but the end result made up for the extra time it took. Not to mention that you can pour your coffee out of the pot and not have to rely on a machine to pour the amount you wanted. With the styrofoam cups, it wasn’t possible to pour more than 4 ounces of coffee, unless if I wanted to forgo water, creamer, or sugar.
I poured my 4 ounces, and got 2 more from the sink. After that, I poured a tiny amount of sugar and creamer into my cup. The brand was ‘N’ JOY’, which was a brand that I’ve only seen in break rooms. They both were in a circular tin can, sugar having a red gradient, while creamer had a blue one. We had about a case of both on standby, in case we ever ran out. Not that we would—another case of both would arrive long before we would need it.
Next, I needed to stir my coffee together so it would mix. I pulled out the drawer labeled ‘UTENSILS’ and looked for a plastic spoon…nope, no spoons available. I settled on a plastic fork. To be quite honest, I didn’t know if there was any difference between using a fork and a spoon to stir liquid up. In my opinion, the fork is probably somewhat better at it. Who knows. I just wish Hobby Lobby was as on top of stocking utensils as they were of ‘N’ JOY’ products.
It took only a few seconds to finish stirring. I made sure not to pour too much sugar so that it wouldn’t be too sweet to drink. I also knew that putting too much creamer in the cup could make it where one or multiple clumps of creamer float on the top. That was always annoying when that happened because that meant that you were stuck with it. It was almost always impossible to unclump it. Even if you broke it apart, it would still be two small clumps of creamer. It would be very easy to fall into this trap pouring into a small cup, so I kept it on the light side this time. The color of the coffee was a darker brown than the way I usually take it. At home, I use milk instead of creamer. You don’t have to mix that, which lends me to pouring a bit too much at times.
As far as snacks, I didn’t have any. My actual break was in an hour–it was pretty late into my shift, all things considered. There were multiple fast food restaurants within walking distance and even a dollar store, but of course, I couldn’t get away with walking there while not on break…when it was moderately busy. Today, I could probably get away with it if I was quick enough. I typically don’t care for the vibe of the dollar store nearby, but beggars couldn’t be choosers in this case. I just hoped that there wasn’t a line at the register.
One step into my journey to the dollar store, I got a ring…of course I did. Well, at least it wasn’t a pick. My sigh only got more exaggerated when I saw the message.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
[“wait nvm im coming to get it”]
Even though his stream didn’t start for a while, he was going to pick up his canvas. I didn’t care either way, I just hoped he wouldn’t change his mind again.
Right as I sent my response of [“Ok”], I heard the sound of the door creaking open.
“I knew you were in here not doin’ no work!”
Holding in my sigh, I turned around and faced Susan. I don’t know why, but old coworkers tended to loved picking on younger coworkers, instead of saying something like “Hey” or “How’s it going”. I found it mildly irritating, especially in this case since all Susan does is stand at the register. That being said, going along with it was easier than being anti-social.
“Well shoot, there isn’t anything to be done!” I shot back. I mean, there wasn’t.
Susan slowly shuffled to an open seat, which was all of them at the moment. When she finally sat down, she turned her head towards me and said “Well I guess you ain’t wrong there.”
To be frank, I hated being in these situations. You probably understand. I really had nothing to talk about with her. Maybe I could ask her if it has been busy up front? Maybe I could…
“...Excuse me…”
Another co-worker, Paul, walked in the break room. Paul was another younger co-worker–he was probably around 19 or 20 if I had to guess.
Paul was quite the unique specimen, to say the least…not that he was an idiot or anything, but he always had his head in the clouds. Like his mind was on something else. Quite unfitting for a ‘Paul’, to be honest. Well, when I thought of the name ‘Paul’, I usually thought of someone older.
What was even funnier was that his name was Paul Tracy. Not kidding. Paul fucking Tracy. I asked him once if he knew that he shared a name with an (in)famous CARTer, and I kid you not, he said back to me ‘Oh? What’s his name?’.
Paul was currently in school for Engineering. Electrical Engineering if I remember correctly. Engineering, at least to my knowledge, required a lot more thought and practice than most other degrees. Much more than Political Science–one of the only good things about not going to school for Engineering was that I had more free time.
Paul was my right-hand man. He was the most reliable co-worker I had when it came to fulfillment. I don’t know how he did it, but he was the fastest at picking items. It was amazing because he didn’t partially look like he was in a hurry when he was on a pickwalk. In fact, he often looked like he was lazing around, avoiding doing work. This was mirrored in the slow-mannered way he talked in. Like he wasn’t sure about what he was going to say. Either way, he was good at his job. He also knew about football more than me, so we could always talk Clemson.
“Well, aren’cha gonna get to work?”
That was from Susan, who was sitting down, sipping on what I presumed to be coffee.
“...Yeah…There’s not much work to be done…” He didn’t have an angry tone, which is surprising considering how often the two work together. I’m not sure if he knows any other way to take her other than literally.
“Must be nice.”
Paul ignored Susan’s sarcastic tone. Good, since I didn’t really want to hear her talk much more. If you gave her a reason to complain about, by god she was going to complain about it.
“Man, why do they got the two of us scheduled?”
I shook my head, “I have no clue.”
“It’s sooo boring man…” He seemed somewhat disappointed that he wasn’t able to do some pick walks.
“You could always go on the register. We could use some extra help.” Susan found an opportunity to butt into our conversation…should’ve expected that.
“Nah, I’m good…” He thankfully shut down any conversation about this. I don’t know if he had any reservations against cashiering–the problem would be being with her. Talk about a nightmare.
Susan didn’t have much response to his rejection. She knew there was no hope–maybe if she wasn’t so annoying she wouldn’t have this problem.
----------------------------------------
Fast forward twenty minutes–I was sipping on a second cup of coffee. I didn’t put any sugar or creamer in it this time. Just water.
“Is that any good?” Asked Paul.
“Nah. Tastes like shit.”
That took Paul by surprise. Apparently, he doesn’t think I curse that much. Susan was out of the room, so there wasn’t anyone to get mad at me.
“Yeah, I bet it does.” He took a look at my styrofoam cup and made a disgusted face. I assumed he was more into energy drinks.
*RING RING*
It was that phone again. The one I carried when I was on dispense duty. I picked up the phone and read the number. It looked familiar, but that was only because it had the same area code and first three numbers as I did. That was not uncommon in this area…maybe it was common everywhere. Who knows.
Anyway, I reluctantly answered the phone.
“Hobby Lobby Online Pickup, this is John speaking.”
“...uh…hey man…”
It was who know who. Here for you know what.
“And what’s your name sir?” I wasn’t going to let him off easy for pulling me around like this.
“...uh…Michael?” It took him a few good seconds to respond. He gave enough information to identify who he was, and what he ordered–keep in mind this was merely a formality. I could be an even bigger dickhead and ask for his last name, but it would be unnecessary. There was only one more thing to ask.
“And what bay are you in sir?” This question was more than likely unnecessary since rarely more than one person came at a time. There were only two bays–if the other bay was taken, it was more than likely because someone used it as a regular parking place.
“...bay one.” He again took a few seconds to answer. I guess I made him too nervous. Serves him right for calling me. The very thought of this phone ringing gives me anxiety.
“We’ll have that right out to you sir.” I was dragging it out at this point. In my defense, I was merely doing my job by the book. Also, this was the last thing I had to say, so this charade would be over soon.
“...” Michael hung up after that. Understandable.
“Is there a customer out there?” Paul seemed interested in my phone call for whatever reason.
“Yeah, it was a customer that arrived.”
“I can take it out to them.” He was already standing up.
“Uh…okay…” I nodded towards him, “They’re in bay one.”
“Alright, thanks.” Paul started towards the door.
Watching him go out the door, I took another sip of my coffee…yep, still terrible. More drinkable though, due to it being lukewarm now.
As soon as Paul went out the door, he came back and asked me a question:
“What’s the guy’s name?”
“...Francis”
----------------------------------------
Man, I really wanted some Skittles.
One of the good things about working here was that there were vending machines out front. Two of them. One had soda and Gatorade, and the other one had snacks. The only thing that sucked was that I often had to have a reason to go outside. Otherwise, I would risk getting caught ‘hiding’, while all I wanted was to buy something.
There were a lot of hardasses that worked for this place. That had to be a given since this place was very religious. My church was like that. I love God and all of that, but they really took it very seriously.
This job was alright, but it wasn’t what I wanted to do forever. That was why I was in school.
I had this canvas-looking thing in my hand. It was in a regular-size bag, kinda sticking out at the end. Let me check to make sure it was actually a canvas…yep, it was. There was also a piece of paper sticking out. I assumed that was the receipt, which was printed on an entire sheet of paper.
Getting from the back to the front took not that long. The only obstacle was customers, who could stop you on a dime. Many customers did not know the difference between a stocker and a cashier, or someone like me, who does fulfillment. Most questions were simple, like ‘Where’s this?’, or ‘Where’s the restroom?’. For the former, I could search it up on the handheld I get from here. It isn’t 100%, but it’s reliable. If that doesn’t work, then I could always use my phone. The store app is just as useful as the employee one. As for the latter, I point in the direction of the back-right of the store.
I was at the front of the store. That old bitch Susan was staring daggers at me from the registers. Of course, she was. All she does is complain.
I lifted the bag up to show her why I was going out front. As if I needed her permission anyway. Bitch has been here a million years and has the same ranking I do.
I remember a few months ago when she got on to me for having an earpod in while on the floor. She was trying to get me in trouble, even though it says in the rules that it’s okay to have one earbud in. As long as it doesn’t get in the way of my work, which it doesn’t. It helps me concentrate. She’s not even my boss!
Right now, I was listening to Future. His album with Lil Uzi Vert. I don’t know why, but I loved listening to it at work. I only had one earpod in because that was all I had. I’ve had these for about a year and a half now, but I’ve lost my left one for about a year now. I’ve become so accustomed to using these at work that it normally doesn’t matter that I only have one pod. It was a problem at the gym, however.
Like gyms, the music they played at retail stores was usually wack. There were some good songs played rarely, but most of the time it was boring shit like Taylor Swift. There isn’t a radio playing here, so whatever I play is the only thing playing into my ear. One more perk of working here. Not like this place would play Future anyway. They’d only play gospel.
Walking outside, I immediately felt the heat. There was a breezeway between the front door and…the other front door…it was hard to explain, but the front door there…well there are two front doors…so yeah, once you were in that breezeway, you could get at least a feel of how it felt outside. It wasn’t hot as fuck
Once you got out here…yeah. You felt it. It was why I was wearing shorts. Since I was on dispense duty, I could wear shorts. I preferred wearing shorts to pants, so I always abused this loophole whenever I could. I even did it a lot during Winter. My legs being cold don’t bother me as much as my arms. It was a good 95 degrees outside if my guesstimation was right. That, combined with the asphalt reflecting the sun, unblocked by clouds, made it like stepping on solid lava. One slip-up, and I would be on some very hot shit. Maybe not that hot to leave a lasting impression, but I don’t want to find out.
All this thought was wearing me out. What was I going to get…well, of course, Gatorade. I gotta replenish myself. It’s a staple. And it’s also in the vending machine to the right. But first, I have to give this canvas.
I saw the car the customer was in. It looked like it had not been washed in ten years. There was so much dust and pollen on it that I was afraid to get close to it. It might make me start sneezing.
Forwards, I march on. The man lowers his window slowly. An Asian customer. I don’t see those much often. Much more at school.
“Pickup for…”, oh shit, what was the name?...Oh!
“M-” “Francis!”
The guy suddenly stopped what he was going to say, and then looked at me stunned. Like I said something I shouldn’t have–or like if he shit his pants.
“Y-yes.”
This guy was getting all bashful now for whatever reason. I handed him his shit so he could go. He was getting on my nerves, acting weird.
Now onto the real reason for being here–vending machines here I come.
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“Wait, so that guy was your roommate?” Paul looked kind of stunned at me.
“Yeah…it’s a bit of a weird situation…” anything involving Michael is a weird situation, “he needs it for his job.” I wasn’t lying…even though I probably gave out too much information.
“Uh huh…” I don’t know why, but Paul came back in a more sour mood than when he left. Even with his Skittles and red Gatorade in hand. Well, at least Michael can start his stream on time now.
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My plan originally for the roommate was to erase him from existence. You know, kill him. That’s what he deserves after all, for trying to turn Juliet into a whore. It’s the best punishment since it’s the only permanent one. The more I thought about it however, the least likely it was feasible. The killing would be the easy part. I assume it would be. I don’t have a gun, but it would be easy to buy a knife. Then all I’d have to do is stab him in his jugular. Or in his heart. Or behind his back. Wherever he was open. Ideally, I would get it done in one joust, but if needed I would stab his stomach as many times as possible. The hard part is what I do afterward. Hide his body? Leave it there? Throw it into the ditch or river? Put it into the woodchipper? There were a million ways I could go at disposing of a body, but the problem is that most, if not all, of them would eventually lead back to me. I also have no idea what he looks like. He could be a landwhale that couldn’t even fit in the trunk of my late grandfather’s vehicle. Dragging a fat fuck while his 600 pounds of blood and guts spill out of his pathetic being only to find out that his fupa needs to be retucked into his pants so he can slide on in. That was if he was a lardass. Odds are he was in shape if he was confident enough to talk to Violet and Juliet. He isn’t a chad if he plays video games that much, but he is somewhat there. Disposing of his body without leaving a trace of my own is almost impossible. First, consider that I have to kill him without anyone noticing first. That means striking him by surprise when no one else is around to notice. That situation could happen at his workplace if he has a job. At his home, it depends on how close he is to Francis, and how often he goes outside. Any time he’s by himself is a good time. No witnesses. Getting away with it becomes exponentially harder once you have to clear two bodies.
That was all in my head. Dreaming of situations where I pop up and kill the roommate was satisfying, but that’s escapism. I’ve lived my life escaping modern society, staying in my corner with my anime and games while the world, rotten to the core always, flies past me. I say enough! Enough of having my world, how little it is, being taken away from me. Enough! I’ve been pushed off the edge, and have been provoked to retaliate. Killing the roommate, no matter how much he deserves it, isn’t the right punishment in this situation, however. It would only satisfy my id. It wouldn’t send the message I wanted–there was also the chance he could be turned into a martyr. A martyr for whoring women up! That, and typically people who are on death row aren’t executed immediately. I know that’s due to appeals and that junk, but also, I believe that delaying an execution gives the doomed person time to sit and think about what they done. Sure, most death row inmates are mental retards or mentally insane, but ones more lucid, they sit and suffer for their wrongdoing. And that’s what I want to bring to the roommate. Not a final solution, but his everlasting suffering.
Like how I have suffered for years, it is his time. An easy death is not suitable, he needs to know how his actions make others feel. Being all chummy with Juliet, poisoning the chalice with his words. Enough! He will pay! He will pay for the crimes of all like him. Punishing every whore-maker is impossible, but punishing him should send a message. Do not talk to pure VTubers if you are a man. Somewhere down the line, it became okay for corporate VTubers to talk to men. I don’t blame VTubers like Juliet for this happening, complacency on the business side leads this to being the norm. Years ago, when VTubing was still a new thing, we didn’t have to deal with DudeTubers and their ilk infiltrating. It was bliss–COVID was a wonderful thing. Killing off whores and whore-enablers and forcing others to stay inside for a change. It also led to many more VTubers debuting. It was great, but that period only lasted a year. Now, this is the situation. My retaliation, if successful, will bring this to light and force management to step in and revert to how things should be. Even if it isn’t, it’ll teach the roommate to never try to weasel his way into VTuber’s lives. Hopefully, the blowback from that will enforce a new standard.
Now, how would I go across enacting his suffering? Torture is what he deserves, but I’m not a monster. No, even if I fantasize about it and really want to do it, I won’t. Moralfaggotry aside, the payoff of it would diminish over time. My joy of seeing his pain, inflicting what he and others have done upon me, won’t properly prove the point I’m making. Crucifying him, burning him at the stake, the guillotine, or anything to the effect of that would only be for me. It would be impossible to livestream it without the feds taking it down. Pictures might do it, but then the issue would be remaining anonymous. The EXIF data would have to be scrubbed. I’m not trying to get myself killed here. I’m not there yet. To be honest, I don’t think I have the gumption to go full kamikaze.
Rounding down the options, the most effective punishment would be something permanent and debilitating, but not death-inducing. The roommate needs to be a reminder. A walking warning. How could we do that? I have some brass knuckles that my grandfather left when he died. I could swing on him a good few times and give him a concussion. If I swing too hard, however, I could kill him. I’ve never punched anyone before, so I don’t know how much force I need. If I could give him CTE or a brain injury, it would not be enough. Not enough for him. Plus, there’s always a chance of it looking like he was a victim of random crime. I need to make it clear it was on purpose while not giving away who I am. Maybe I need to leave a note as well…no, that’s too Reddit. Would make me sound gay and give off a fingerprint most likely. Hitting him with a baseball bat would be funnier, but would provide the same result. Also the chance that I miss, or I hit him, but he comes back up a few minutes later with no permanent injuries.
Firebombing him came across my mind next. Being able to successfully douse him with gasoline and then light him on fire would leave him with severe burns all across his body even if he was saved. The scars would be a permanent reminder–not that his photos would be posted in the VTuber community, but word would eventually get around about it. Something of that magnitude would have to be talked about, and the news would report about it. At that point, people would put two and two together. Immolating someone isn’t a random act like hitting him. There’s a chance he could die, but odds are that he could stop, drop, and roll in time before it gets terminal. I’m looking to maximize his suffering, I don’t want him to die right there. I won’t help him if he’s too retarded to get on the ground, however.
Poisoning him…well, that would kill him, but what about an acid attack? An acid attack…
Thinking about it, it was the best way to enact my revenge. Throwing it on him would be all I have to do. I could take off and get away without having to pick up anything. Only the cup I’d have the acid in. That would have my fingerprints on it so I’d have to keep it anyway.
I could do an acid attack anywhere. Like with every other proposal, it all had to do with entering a window of opportunity and exiting before it closed. With every other option, either that window was too small or there were too many variables that couldn’t be controlled. With acid, all I had to worry about was the chance that it would splash on me. Wearing gloves might defend against it. I would have to make sure the cup was emptied before running with it.
The scenario I was imagining played out as follows: I walk up to the front door of Francis and the roommate’s house. I knock on the door. The roommate answers. I ask him ‘Are you the roommate?’. During his answer, I throw the acid on his face. Preferably it hits his eyes, blinding him. He falls onto the ground and starts flailing, not knowing what’s just happened. I say nothing, merely staring at him. I take a single photo of him in intense pain as a keepsake and as a reminder. I then leave.
Of course, it won’t go down that smoothly. I’m not retarded, I know this. First, Francis was bound to be there, so I couldn’t be sure if he would or would not hear the roommate’s screams. I didn’t know the floorplan of their house. He could easily be within earshot of a scream, especially in an echoing house. Hopefully, Francis has enough noise-canceling foam to muffle them. There’s also the neighbor issue. The picture that Francis posted of the roommate starting a fire indicates that they live somewhere innawoods. That being said, that didn’t mean that neighbors wouldn’t be a problem. The trees could be the border of their yard–they could be behind a gas station for all I know. Could be right beside a park next to a town. My research into his location still hasn’t come to that point.
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This was torture.
I was watching one of Francis’s stream–after the picture was shown, I discovered that if I want to find information about the roommate, the man living with him might be the place to go to. Watching a DudeTuber is the last thing I want to do, but it’s what I have to do.
I had been watching him for the last week. All of his backlog. There is one thing I have noticed he sips his tea when his chat is moving slow
Currently, I was watching a stream of him painting a tree house for Kotori Horii–as her last name (first name in Japanese culture) implied, she was not worth thinking about. Put on a pure face, but beneath it all, she was a whore. Anyone with a brain already knew that. That was neither here nor there.
These types of streams were the best for gathering info on the roommate. Gaming streams, he wouldn’t hardly read the chat. It’s understandable why–the last thing you want to do when playing an FPS or an ASSFAGGOT is get distracted. The chat was a cesspit to begin with. With streams like these–’interactive streams’ as they were sometimes called–Francis could easily chat with viewers while doing whatever dumb gay shit he was doing.
Francis kept referring to it as a ‘Duplex Treehouse’, which made sense since it had three-entrance ways, much like how Kotori takes dicks three at a time but still contends on being ‘pure’. I bet she skis with the unhoused dicks. What happened to shame?
I was an about an hour in when I heard some information that made my search easier:
“[...] the funny thing is that I got this for like half-off, and I got even more off with roomie’s discount!”
I stopped the breaks. Roomie’s discount? Unless if he was a senior citizen (he wasn’t) or a valued cardholder at the place Francis bought the whorehouse (doubtful), this meant that he worked at that establishment.
Now, who sells a ‘Duplex Treehouse’...typing it in on Google, the first fifteen or so results were about vacation homes that were dubbed ‘treehouses’. Some outdoorsy shit for normies. I finally got to treehouses meant for birds, which yielded results not matching the whorehouse Francis has.
It took going to the ‘Shopping’ tab for it to pop up.
‘DUPLEX TREEHOUSE’ *ON SALE*
It was the treehouse. Sorry, whorehouse. Either way, it was it. On the Hobby Lobby site. I’ve never been to a Hobby Lobby in my life, but I know that they’re an arts and crafts store whose owners are heavily Christian. Even though I’m an atheist, I find most of what they do and believe in to be based. They respect traditional values.
Honestly, I didn’t expect it to be this easy to find where the roommate works. Seems too easy. A slip-up on Francis’s part to give away that much information. God damn. Then again, I spent around twenty hours watching these streams in the last two days. There was a chance that I missed another, bigger clue. Truth be told, they were hard to watch. Any DudeTuber was. It was painful, but at a point, he blended into the background. That meant I wasn’t paying attention enough, but could you blame me?
Reeling my expectations back in, I searched up the number of Hobby Lobby locations…there were near a thousand. Yes, being limited to the southeast narrowed the amount of locations the roommate could be to probably a few hundred. ‘The South’ had to be Hobby Lobby’s biggest customer-base, since gawd and all of that.
In order to whittle down the locations, some intense googling will have to take place to see how far each lake is from a Hobby Lobby location. There’s subjectivity in searching that, but what it does do is establish how remote each lake is. And there’s also the possibility that there’s a populous lake that doesn’t have a Hobby Lobby anywhere near it. Many variables. I’ll have to do the research in order to know.
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Clarks Hill Lake, Lake Hartwell, Lake Murray, Walter F George Lake, Lake Lanier, Lake Norman, Smith Mountain Lake, Lake Oconee, Lake Keowee, Lake Jocassee, Lake James, Blue Ridge Lake, Lake Rabun
GREEN LAKES: Hobby Lobby is a close (<20 minutes) drive to the lake.
YELLOW LAKES: Hobby Lobby is a somewhat far away (20-40 minutes) drive to the lake.
RED LAKES: Hobby Lobby is a far away (>40 minutes) drive to the lake.
Hobby Lobby’s near green lakes will be a top priority. Ones near yellow lakes will be disregarded for the time being, along with the red ones, which will be discarded forever, due to the insurmountable length of drive to justify working there.
Lake Hartwell and Lake Keowee are on top of one another, which essentially makes them one since they are both close to the same Hobby Lobby. Several of them in fact. As it stands the hot spot is the Carolinas. Almost all of the green lakes are either in North or South Carolina. One was in Georgia, so I had to keep that area in mind as well. But my focus was to the east.
Moving on, in order to establish which Hobby Lobby’s I might need to stake out in the future, I will also need to dive deeper and build a list of Hobby Lobby’s that the roommate may be working at.
image [https://i.imgur.com/hkLyxrr.png]A map of Hobby Lobby locations superimposed on a map of the southeastern United States. The green zones are areas where The Roommate is most likely located. The green zones aren't exact, but it helps me a lot. There are four zones: One in North Carolina, two in South Carolina, and one in Georgia.
With this, my search is becoming close to being completed. Better count your days fucker.