I grabbed a roll of sliced pepperoni and tossed the pieces like ninja stars. I impressed myself. Each one landed with good accuracy—evenly spaced on the pies.
Ten minutes later, eight baked pizzas cooled on the counter.
SHIIING!
I cross-drew my pizza cutters from their holsters. The razor-sharp blades gleamed under fluorescent lights. I slashed them down with savage, crisscross cuts.
SWIP! SWIP! SWIP!
Each stroke made fast work of dividing the pizzas. I twirled the pizza cutters around my fingers and holstered them like a wild west gunslinger. I stood there, dusted my hands off, and admired my handiwork, only to be interrupted by a sarcastic hand clap from behind.
“Great job. You made pizzas.”
It was Jackie.
“I need you to go find Todd. He’s AWOL, as usual, and I need him suited up and ready to go.”
“Why do I have to find him? You’re the manager.”
Jackie put an arm around me, shaking her head as she led me towards the door.
“Sam, Sam, Sam… I know you’ve mentioned wanting to become assistant manager. It’s decisive moments like these that can demonstrate team spirit and initiative. Mmmkay?”
I bit back a scowl. Jackie had been holding that carrot over my head for two years now. Still, I wanted a promotion, and Jackie was the only one who could give it to me. As we parted ways in the hallway, she yelled out one final command.
“IF HE’S IN THE BATHROOM AGAIN, REMIND HIM OF OUR POLICY, MMMKAY?!”
I turned the corner and walked down the rear employee hallway. I paused at Jackie’s Employee of the Month plaque and promptly ripped it off the wall.
“TAKE YOUR MMMKAY AND SHOVE IT RIGHT UP YOUR PIE-HOLE!”
“Whoa! Easy, tiger…”
I turned around. Sola stood there, eyes wide, a stack of pizza trays under her arm.
“Wow. From playing with yourself to playing with fire. You’re full of surprises, Sam Wynbrook.”
I watched her go. I knew I shouldn’t risk peeking at her ass, but I couldn’t help myself. I stared at the round, supple curves, hypnotized as they bounced with each step. Sola glanced back and caught me looking. She waved a naughty finger at me. Embarrassed, I walked off in the other direction, wondering how much worse this day could get.
----
I coughed my way into the bathroom, batting through a thick haze of marijuana smoke that was streaming from a closed stall.
“Really, Todd? Kids are gonna be here in fifteen minutes.”
“Tell them to piss off. I’m not sharing,” a voice giggled.
I pounded on the stall door.
“C’mon, man. You been in here twenty minutes and you know the policy… if I don’t tell Jackie I smelled a number two—she’s gonna write you up.”
“Fine. I’ll take a dump if you help me wipe.”
“Oh, grow up, dude.”
The stall door flung open. There, Todd stood, dressed head-to-toe in his Rat E. Cheddar mascot costume. He coughed a few times causing puffs of smoke to waft out of the rat’s mouth.
“The hell you lookin’ at?” Todd grunted.
I shook my head, “Nothing.”
“Naw. You’ve been giving me crap for a while now. You think you’re better than me.”
I stifled a laugh. It was hard not to giggle at a surly, five-foot-tall, intoxicated rodent.
“Look, Todd, let’s just get out of here, man.”
Todd shoved me. I looked at him, unsure. Was this really happening? Todd lifted his rat dukes.
“Let’s go, pussy. You can catch these paws.”
I raised my palms in a peaceful gesture.
“I’m not fighting you, Todd.”
“Then I’mma kick your—
SHUNK!
His threat was cut short. I stood there, blinking, drenched in his blood. It was everywhere. Pooling on the floor. Dripping from the walls. I trembled. My eyes traced from the new gaping hole in the ceiling, to the large metal trunk that had erased Todd’s head. The chest lay open, atop his crushed skull, beaming a translucent hologram into the air. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Hovering mid-air, a few feet away, the twinkling icon looked like a golden shield from one of my video games.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
----
I stood completely still, staring at the rectangular trunk atop Todd’s flattened head and the glowing hologram that shimmered above it. The golden shield pulsed hypnotically in the air as if beckoning to be touched. I had seen these sort of things before in the many video games I had played since childhood. The metal trunk looked like the sort of thing football teams had on their sidelines to hold equipment. But the hologram above it, made me think of loot crates that I earned in video games by completing quests or discovering hidden parts of game maps.
Still, it didn’t make any sense. What was a loot crate or equipment trunk doing here in the real world? How could that be? And why did it happen to fall through the roof of Rat E. Cheddar’s Pizza Parlor and crush my co-worker’s head? Todd was a dick, but he didn’t deserve this.
Despite the horror I had just witnessed, the hologram mesmerized me. The shield glistened, its golden aura swirling like fiery embers in the air. I instinctively reached out to touch it. My bloody fingers twitched as my hand neared the shield. The tip of my index finger pierced the image, passing straight through it. The icon disappeared as a brief fanfare chimed and a pop-up message appeared mid-air.
Item Acquired: Blitz Max Protect Shield - 1/1
Used to repel all enemy attacks for 60 seconds.
I stumbled backwards, smacking my hip on a sink. The pain snapped me out of my stupor. I turned and caught sight of myself in the mirror. I looked horrible. I was caked with red goo and bits of pulpy flesh. Curly, wet hair clumped to my forehead, leaking blood trails down my face. My reflection reminded me of the infamous climax scene from Stephen King’s Carrie.
“Oh crap! Oh crap! Oh crap!”
The next few moments were a blur. My feet were moving and so was my body. I darted into the kitchen, scooped Count Basil into my rucksack, scrambled down the hallway, and dashed towards the exit.
My stride was shaky. Unsteady. The walls and ceiling seemed to morph, warping diagonally as if I was inside a funhouse, tripping on acid. I was almost at the rear door when a bloody body stumbled out in front of me.
It was Sola.
She screamed, shivering, blood dripping down her face. She and I stared at each other, terrified.
“It’s J-J-Jackie,” she stammered. “We were just talking and—“
WHAM!
Before she could finish, the roof of the hallway behind us caved in. Another metal trunk smashed to the floor. Its lid popped open, revealing a futuristic helmet hologram. I grabbed Sola’s hand and made a beeline for the door, tugging her along.
We burst through the rear door and ran out into Armageddon. Car horns blared from vehicles that had smashed into each other, into the sides of buildings, and had run over people. Light poles and fire hydrants had been sheared from their bases. Water gushed and sparks crackled. Flames danced across the destruction. A strong wind blew, knocking people off their feet. The sky was a swirling, purple-black vortex streaked with lightning.
“Oh my God!” Sola crossed herself. “My Abuela was right. I should have gone back to church.”
I saw the glint of something shiny in the sky—more trunks plummeting towards the ground. The first one landed with thundering force, shattering the concrete sidewalk. Then another and another. People fled for their lives, some not as fortunate as others, getting smashed into human jelly stains. The trunks slammed down, popping open, projecting sports-themed gaming holograms that served as tombstones for the recently departed. I spotted a department store across the street. People were streaming out of the broken window pane, carrying looted items.
“Come on! This way!” I shouted.
We picked our way through the maelstrom, leaping over dead bodies and dashing in between twisted mounds of former vehicles.
Metal trunks continued to tumble from the sky, crushing everything below. I yanked Sola out of the path of one just in time. The poor soul next to us wasn’t as fortunate. He exploded into a cloud of pink mist. His blood splattered, adding to the red stains already coating us.
We made it across the street and dove inside the department store.
“What’s going on?!?!” Sola shouted.
“I don’t know!”
She pointed at the metal trunks.
“What the hell are those things?!”
“I don’t know. Sports equipment trunks? Reward boxes?”
“What?”
“Like… boxes that give you equipment or upgrades in video games.”
“What… like in Sonic?”
Two looters hustled past us, leaping out of the window, carrying gaming consoles and television boxes. They both disintegrated as another trunk smashed down.
“No. Not like Sonic.”
I looked around the store. People were grabbing whatever they could, using the end of the world as an opportunity to enrich themselves.
“Hell yeah! I’ve been wanting this game!” one of them shouted.
“It’s like Christmas! Best day of my life!” screamed another.
I spotted a door labeled “Employees Only” in the rear corner.
I led Sola past the maddened looters and through the door. We scrambled down a rear hallway and crammed inside a small employee washroom.
We huddled close, in complete silence for a few minutes, just trying to catch our breath. I looked into her eyes.
“You okay?” I asked.
She shook her head no.
“Me neither.”
Sola’s eyes flooded with tears. She trembled, raising her bloody hands, looking at her blood-soaked outfit. I thought for a minute.
“Look, I saw some clothes out there. I think I can get us some. We can wash up.”
Sola nodded.
“I’ll be right back.”
I snuck out of the door and back into the insanity. I got bulldozed by a large man in flannel, toting a charcoal grill and screaming, “Get the hell outta my way!!!”
I got back to my feet and sprinted to the clothing department. I wasn’t selective. I grabbed whatever I could off the racks and ran back to the washroom. I entered without knocking and was surprised to see Sola in her bra and panties. Her bloody clothes lay in a rumpled pile on the floor. She was splashing water onto her body, washing off the gooey Jackie residue.
Even coated in blood, her body was incredible. Her waist was slender, tapering to curvy hips. A gemstone was perfectly nestled in a belly button piercing. Her breasts were every bit as curvy and perfect as I had imagined. She glanced over and caught me staring.
“You could take a picture and I can autograph it for you.”
“Sorry,” I said, looking away. “Here. I got you these.”
I extended a handful of clothes. Sola grabbed them and quickly pulled on a new shirt and shorts. They were tight and form-fitting. I did my best to resist looking at her body again, but I was failing miserably.
I took off my rucksack, and opened it to check on Count Basil.
“You all good in there, dude?”
Sola looked at me like I was crazy. “You have a plant in your backpack? And you’re talking to it?”
“Yeah. Doesn’t everybody?”
She shook her head.
I closed the rucksack and peeled out of my Rat E. Cheddar’s shirt, leather holster belt, and blood-soaked slacks. I stood there, bare-chested, in my tighty-whiteys. Self-conscious, I cupped my crotch with both hands. Sola clicked her teeth, taking it all in.
“What?” I blushed.
“Well, if you’re gonna be a stripper—you’re gonna have to learn about these things called ‘gyms’.”
“Right,” I said as I moved to the sink.
I doused water over my face and hair. Pink juice sloshed everywhere. I scrubbed my chest and forearms, then grabbed a stack of paper towels and dried myself off.
Sola watched as I pulled on a new shirt and a fresh pair of jeans. I tugged at the shirt, but it wouldn’t reach my belt-line.
“Aahh. It’s too short.”
I inspected my leather belt. Both pizza cutters were still in their respective holsters. I strapped it on.
Sola started giggling and finally broke into a full-bore laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
She pointed at my shirt. I turned and looked in the mirror. The shirt was a pink cutoff job that was so short it exposed my navel. Emblazoned across the chest in bold letters were the words: “BADASS GILF.”