(set: $event to (random: 1, 3))
(set: $event2 to (random: 1, 3))
(set: $event3 to (random: 1, 2))
(set: $event4 to (random: 1, 3))
(set: $event5 to (random: 1, 3))
(set: $event6 to (random: 1, 3))
It's possibly your last day on the job
Unfortunately, arriving to your grocery-bagging job
drunk every single day is a good way to put your livelihood
into jeopardy real fast.
It's not your fault your mom is such a bitch and
the only thing that helps is an entire bottle of
Pink Whitney.
And yes, today was no exception for your
Pink lemonade breakfast.
The empty bottle is in fact still in the back of your car.
It had to be a meal on the go,
[[because you can't afford to be late today, can you?]]
Your job is on the line. One mistake and no more money for you.
You have a sudden hesitation.
Yes, capitalism is a scam and all,
but a bottle of the pink shit costs almost
30 bucks now, and your life just ain't worth it
If you aren't cranked on miss Whitney all day.
[[You try your best to think about your next move.]]You take a deep breath, stand a little straighter, and march yourself through the glass door.
Hopefully nobody noticed you standing in front of the door and staring inside for an embarrassingly long moment.
You walk into the back room. Your manager is sitting at the desk.
She looks at you for a moment, but you avoid her eyes and proceed to put on your vest.
You know that she's just waiting for one slip up. Just one and it's all over for you.
You utter a controlled Good Morning, and walk out to your register.
It's time to bag some groceries.
[[The first customer approaches.]] (if: $event3 is 1)[
You don't even think, you just stumble forward, landing face first into the glass door.
Your face comically slides down the glass until your body is a puddle on the concrete.
You lay there. For a while.
Your coworkers walk up to the door, not to open it, but to take pictures of the pathetic heap you are.
They don't feel sorry. Everyone was waiting for this to happen.
You're about to be the face of some very entertaining reddit posts, at your own expense of course.
Nice going, man.
Game over.
Would you like to work at [[Sparkle Mart]] again?]
(elseif: $event3 is 2)[
You walk in like you normally do. Drunk.
Honestly, you just look a bit loose, and to everyone else that's just how you always are.
Somehow, not everyone at Sparkle Mart has figured out that you only come to work if you're at least a little wasted. (It's just the way things have to be for you.)
Unfortunately for you, everyone on shift today has put two and two together themselves.
They know.
They all know.
And maybe if you're lucky, they'll let you slide. Maybe. Probably not.
You walk into the back room, put on your vest, and get ready to bag some fucking groceries.
It's game time.
[[The first customer approaches.]] ]
Here you are now at the front door.
You don't remember walking up to it
But that doesn't matter.
It's time to get fucking serious.
It's time to bag some fucking groceries.
It's time to pretend you're not drunk so
you can keep your fucking job.
You look to the doors of Sparkle Mart.
[[Fuck this job, I'll be poor instead. (1)]]
[[Walk inside like a normal person. (2)]]
[[Walk inside like a drunk person. (3)]]
(if: $event is 1)[ Fuck it.
FUCK IT.
You still have enough cash in your car
To buy a pack of Pink Whitney shots.
At least you think you do.
Fuck Sparkle Mart. They don't appreciate
your fucking sparkle.
They don't know what the fuck they're gonna lose
Once you get another job probably.
You stumble back to your car and drunk drive home.
Game over.
Would you like to work at [[Sparkle Mart]] again?]
(elseif: $event is 2)[ You think for a moment.
No job means no money.
No money means...no Whitney.
And you can't live life without your girl.
You take a breath, try to (poorly) compose yourself,
and [[you walk into Sparkle Mart.]]]
(elseif: $event is 3)[You stare at the door.
You've been staring at the door for a really long time.
Your coworker walks up and opens the door, almost hitting you in the face.
They don't ask if you're coming in.
They tell you to get lost, and shut the door.
Great.
You stand there, still staring at the Sparkle Mart doors.
Eventually you turn around and walk to your car.
Good job, man.
Game over.
Would you like to work at [[Sparkle Mart]] again?](if: $event2 is 1)[You put your vest on in the back room.
Your manager doesn't even say hello.
You smile and wave anyways, but not in a way
that she gets the hint you're drunk (she already knows).
You head over to your assigned check-out counter with
an over-inflated confidence.
Your coworker at the register rolls their eyes at
your feigned soberness, but you don't care.
You're ready to bag some fucking groceries.
[[The first customer approaches.]]]
(elseif: $event2 is 2)[You stumble into the back room.
Your manager stands up, grabs your shoulders
and she spins you 180 degrees back towards the door.
She gives you a push and you march yourself
straight out the door and back to your car.
You don't have a job anymore.
You already knew that before you walked inside.
You have no more Pink Whitney.
Your mom is waiting at home to shame you.
Fuck this.
Nice going, man
Game over.
Would you like to work at [[Sparkle Mart]] again?]
(elseif: $event2 is 3)[
[[You give up.]]
]You quit.
You quit work, you quit life.
You don't quit drinking.
You walk to the shelf and grab a room temperature.
bottle of that pink shit.
You chug half of it, and smash the other half on the ground.
You collapse into the pale pink puddle of glass.
The police are called.
You ain't got a job no more.
And you're about to spend the rest of the day in the pen.
It's over.
Game over.
Would you like to work at [[Sparkle Mart]] again?A young looking man approaches with a few items.
Three items slide towards you.
Orange juice, eggs, cans of tuna.
You calculate your next move.
What do you put on the bottom?
[[Orange Juice]]
[[Eggs]]
[[Tuna]]You place the orange juice in the bag.
There's room for the eggs and tuna on the side.
[[You put in the eggs]].
[[You put in the tuna]].Man, why would you put the eggs in first, that's the one thing they teach you not to do when you learn to bag groceries.
You don't even really *learn* to bag groceries, it's all just common sense.
Unless you're driving on manual with a bottle of Whitney.
Then it's a SKILL.
A skill you're good at, really fucking good at. It's like you're doing math equations
in your head or some shit while you're bagging those groceries.
You're fucking skilled. You know not to put the eggs in first.
You place the eggs on top of the tuna and next to the orange juice.
Nice going, the man walks away completely neutrally.
No one's mad, you ain't sad, and miss Whitney is waiting for you at the end of the tunnel.
[[another customer approaches]] You stack a comically large amount of tuna cans into the bottom of the bag.
You awkwardly stack the orange juice and eggs on top.
Not very elegant, especially for someone who's job is to literally bag groceries,
but it works.
The man walks off with his bag.
[[another customer approaches]].You put in the eggs and pile on the tuna.
Man, what the fuck.
The cashier and customer both stare at you as the eggs crack under the weight of the comically large amount of tuna cans.
You don't say anything. You stare at your coworker while they call for a manager.
It's not your first time doing this, but it's definitely your last.
Nice going, man.
Game Over.
Would you like to work at [[Sparkle Mart]] again?You stack the comically large amount of tuna cans next to the orange juice and place the eggs on top.
You let out a small sigh at the success. Your coworker gives you a brief look of minor confusion, but turns their attention back to the register.
[[another customer approaches]]This time, a woman with bright red hair approaches the counter.
She places a few items on the belt.
A bottle of wine, a pack of crackers, and a packet of nails.
Nails instead of cheese? What kind of evening is this lady trying to have?
[[Comment on the nails]]
[[Comment on the lack of cheese]]
[[Try not to make a comment and just bag the groceries]]
"You tryna nail a guy to a tree with these nails?"
You don't know why you said that. Something about the wine and crackers got to your head, and you made a catholic ass joke as a response.
The redheaded woman looks at you with shock.
Your coworker just rolls their eyes and calls for the manager.
One bad joke was all it took to lose your job. And...
...you realize you're not even catholic.
Nice going, man.
Game Over.
Would you like to work at [[Sparkle Mart]] again?You ask the woman if she wants some cheese.
She's taken aback. You're taken aback.
You have no cheese to offer her. Why would you ask such a question?
She gives you an 'uh, no', and continues paying for her items.
Your coworker stifles a laugh and keeps working.
The woman leaves and you feel a wave of relief.
It's all good. You want to keep it that way.
[[A third customer approaches]]
You try to hold in any comments you have, but Whitney is one hell of a yapper, ain't she?
She has some shit to say just for the fuck of it,
and so do you.
"You eat nails for breakfast, lady?"
Is what you would say if you weren't biting your lips shut and making strange and mildly grotesque faces at the redheaded woman.
She averts her eyes, she makes her own assumptions.
Your coworker loudly asks the woman if she'd like the receipt in the bag, waking you up enough to start packing up the items.
The woman leaves and your coworker lets out a sigh, still averting their attention away from your pathetic face.
Yes you are pathetic, you chug Pink Whitney before you go to work every day,
and that's just nasty.
You snap back into it as [[A third customer approaches]].You feel relieved it's almost time for your break. But until then, there's one more customer.
(if: $event3 is 1)[
You see a middle aged man approach the register and places three items onto the belt.
Bananas. Bagels. Motor oil.
Whatever you do next must be calculated carefully.
[["Hey man, what the fuck are you planning to do with this shit"]]
[[Bag the groceries without commenting on the odd selection]]
]
(if: $event3 is 2)[
An older man puts his groceries onto the belt.
A pack of beer, and a get well soon card.
You see a fresh pack of cigarettes in his pocket.
[[Ask if the beer and cigarettes are for the sick person]]
[[Say something normal]]
]
(if: $event3 is 3)[
A young girl walks up and puts a few groceries on the belt.
She chats up your coworker, saying she's excited to cook soup later.
Three items slide towards you, the presumed ingredients for this soup.
Bread.
Distilled Water.
Spray-on canola oil.
[[What kind of soup are you trying to make?]]
[[What kind of poor person meal is this, you're not creative at all.]]
]
Listen, anyone would think that bananas, bagels, and moter oil are a weird combination.
At least you think so.
What the heck is this guy planning to do exactly?
You imagine lubed up bananas getting shoved in.....ugh he's not doing that, is he?
You immediately ask if he's gonna lube up the bananas and shove them through the bagels for fun.
...
Yes you said that verbatim.
And yes, it's over.
You don't even wait for a response or for your coworker to call your manager,
you take your vest off where you stand and walk right out the doors back to your car.
Nice going, man.
Game Over.
Would you like to work at [[Sparkle Mart]] again?You stare and study each item as it runs down the belt and slides your way.
Bagels. Round bread with a hole in the middle.
Bananas. Funny shape that fits inside the bagel holes.
Motor oil. Well...
Now I can see your logic, but I'm sure the man is just picking up some lose ends.
You, like a normal person, ask the man if he has any fun plans tonight.
"Oh, I'm lubing up some bananas and shoving them through the bagel holes for fun."
Your coworker and the man burst out laughing, you stand stunned, and I stand corrected.
Well that was unexpected.
You snap out of it and realize, hey, [[it's break time]].You ask the old man if the beer and cigarettes are a package deal with the card.
He says the booze and cigarettes are for him. His father has...
....ohhhh fuck,
you stopped listening because you knew you messed up big time.
Oh fuck oh no oh fuck what did he even say back.
You notice your coworker staring at you, but only to get you to bag the groceries like it's your literal job or something.
Maybe what you didn't hear wasn't so bad. Maybe you're in the clear.
You sigh inconspicuously when the man leaves. Still have your job.
And right now...[[it's break time]].You tell the man you hope the person the card is for gets better soon.
Yeah, that was an actually nice and normal thing to say, nice job.
The man replies back that the card is actually for his dying father.
Dying? Get well soon? You make a face trying to calculate the situation.
The man continues that it's meant to be ironic. It's a get well soon card for a bastard that's finally going to die.
You take a moment to calculate the humor, and let out a strange yet genuine laugh.
Your coworker at the register even giggles.
The man cheerfully says his goodbye and takes his items.
You're happy you managed to navigate that situation normally, but now you're feeling a little *too* normal. It's time to get your sparkle back.
[[it's break time]] Finally a break, and just in time too.
You feel your sparkle fading. You need a shot of miss Whitney to get it back.
You have a shot in your car, but alert is high today. They all know what you do before your shifts and during breaks.
You're always out there with your favorite girl, getting wasted on her.
And sure, when you put it like that, it's a real poetic life.
Unfortunately, your manager ain't one for poetry, and if she catches you with Whitney,
it's over for you.
But man, you need a minute with your girl, just a minute.
[[You think about what you're going to do.]]You ask the girl what kind of soup she's making later.
She says bread and water soup.
....what.
You give her a confused look.
She says it's definitely a proper and nourishing meal, and that she eats it every day.
She sprays the bread in oil and toasts it and then cooks the toast in the distilled water.
She says it's delicious.
........what.
Both you and your coworker stare confused at the girl as she happily gathers her items and leaves. She doesn't care about anything but her soup.
Maybe you could take a hint from her. Cut out the Pink Whitney, sustain yourself on bread and water and be fucking happy about it. Save some money for once.
....nah. You can't live without your girl.
With that thought, you feel your sparkle fading with each moment spent in thought.
You know what time it is,
[[it's break time]] You manage to bite your tongue and think for a moment about the stupid shit that was about to leave your mouth.
What kind of poor ass shit are you gonna make with these ingredients?
Buddy you make meals out of one ingredient. The Pink Shit.
Yeah, that's all you need, right, but also that's fucking sad, man. Come on.
That one struck a chord, huh? You don't say anything at all and just bag the happy girl's groceries.
You may be filled with mild shame, but at least you didn't say anything stupid enough to lose your job over.
And hey, guess what...
[[it's break time]] There's two options. You can make a quick trip to your car and grab your shot of Whitney.
Which seems easy, but your manager is out of the office and walking around.
She knows what you keep in your car.
If she spots you out there, it's over.
Thankfully your coworker at the register isn't paid enough to care that you're drunk.
Your other option is to steal that pink shit right off the shelf and chug it in the bathroom.
Wait, that's really your other option? Ok, man.
With your manager around, it won't be so easy, so maybe consider a secret third option which is to not to drink any Pink Whitney at all and finish your shift like a normal person.
[[Go to your car]]
[[Steal your girl off the shelf]]
[[Secret third option]](if: $event5 is 1)[
Your manager is up near the registers, doing something or other. She spots you clearly and knows you're going to ask to go to your car so you can get a shot of Whitney. You're sure that's what she's thinking.
Do you wait it out, or is it time for plan B?
[[Wait for her to leave and go to your car]]
[[Grab a bottle off the shelf and chug it in the bathroom]]
]
(if: $event5 is 2)[
How lucky are you! Your manager finished whatever it was she was doing and went back into the back room.
She's always in there anyways; she may know you're going out to your car, but it's not like she cares right now, right? Right?
You walk out to your car perfectly casually. You sit down in the drivers seat.
Your coworker doesn't even care. You can see them in the store window. Since the manager is in the back they've just been looking at their phone.
Ahh. Peace.
You take your shot of the pink shit, like nasty fake lemonade bliss in your mouth.
It's still warm from sitting in your car's console all day.
This was all you needed. But just for appearances, and as a treat, you light a cigarette to finish out your break.
You feel your sparkle returning.
Yeah it's gonna be a good rest of the shift.
[[You go back inside.]]
]
(if: $event5 is 3)[
Your manager is in the middle of the store, looking at various items on the shelf and writing down notes.
If she's busy, she can't see you, right?
You look to your coworker. They aren't even paying attention, the manager is busy, no one is at the register, so they're on their phone.
You're ready for your break already. It's a slow day but somehow those are worse for you.
No one to talk to, no one to show your sparkle.
Your manager returns to the back, where she apparently lives.
What total relief that is.
You go to your car without a car, drink up that pink shit, and feel refreshed with your sparkle replenished.
Nobody loves you except Whitney. And you're loyal to your girl to the end.
It's gonna be a good rest of shift.
[[You go back inside.]]
]Sure you have a shot left in your car, but you've had a better idea brewing in the back of your head for the past hour.
Sparkle Mart stocks full bottles of the pink shit, and you know there's a whole box in the back waiting to be broken into by your alcoholic hands.
You know what you want, you just need a strategy.
The first thing you need to do is avoid your manager.
Let's do this. Let's get fucking drunk on the clock.
[[You look around, trying to spot where your manager is.]] A secret third option huh?
And you already know what it is. Nothing that I suggested.
It's been in the back of your head the whole time, despite how far you've made it this shift.
The next shift is just going to be the same.
Fuck it all.
[[You give up.]] You figure the right move to make is to just wait for your manager to go back to the back room.
It's like she just lives back there, doesn't she?
Watching you on the cameras and judging you...
You shake the thought out of your head.
You wait to start your break, standing at the empty checkout line with a coworker that doesn't like talking to you. Great.
After a few minutes that feel like centuries, you see your manager go back to the back room.
Ahh...finally.
You announce you're taking your break to your coworker who doesn't care, and walk outside to your car.
Yes, finally! You open your car door and open the center console.
There she is. Your reserved shot of slightly hot Pink Whitney, ready for the chugging.
You hold your nose and bottom's up. She burns your throat but you like it that way.
That's it, that's exactly what you needed. And now that your sparkle is starting to come back, you're ready for whatever comes next.
[[You go back inside.]] You have an idea that you would call genius and I would call a one way ticket to getting fired.
You make your plan.
You're gonna grab a bottle of Pink Whitney off the shelf and chug it in the bathroom.
Yeah man, that's a real good plan (it's not).
You don't even care about being fired now.
All you care about is your girl. Miss Whitney herself.
You see your manager among the shelves, but not too close to the alcohol isle.
You remember there's a box in the back full of the Pink Whitney restock in the back room of Sparkle Mart.
Decisions, decisions...
It's time to make your move.
[[Steal Whitney off the shelf]]
[[Steal Whitney out of the back room]]It's gonna be a good rest of the day.
You keep bagging those groceries, making conversation, and the customers don't suspect you're under Whitney's influence at all, at least you don't think so.
Your coworker at the register even says some words to you. They're about your job, but hey, you got your sparkle back and the people possibly love it.
Well, you love it. Everyone else just tolerates it.
You finish your shift and walk in the back to hang up your vest.
You say see you tomorrow to your manager. She nods.
You still have your job. You win.
Congratulations, man.
Nobody except yourself believed in you, but you showed us all.
You completed one drunk shift. You win!
Would you like to work at [[Sparkle Mart]] again?It's a worse idea to steal Whitney off the shelf, Whitney that's accounted for.
But for some reason (alcoholism), you don't care at all.
You work your (drunk) ass off some days of the week bagging groceries.
You deserve free Whitney.
[[You look around, trying to spot where your manager is.]]The Pink Whitney is in the back of store, connected to the back room.
You know it hasn't even been accounted for yet.
The shipping people are just like you, drunk at 6 am, and don't care about shit.
That's the kind of talent Sparkle Mart gets to have if they only want to pay minimum wage.
You think an extra bottle missing wouldn't be too bad.
You head for the back of store, stealthily avoiding your manager among the shelves.
And you're in. You know exactly which box to head to, and you grab your prize.
A whole bottle of the pink shit.
You take that bottle and hide it under your shirt.
It's not really all that concealed, I mean you look pregnant with a bottle of alcohol which is strange.
But whatever, you look out the door and the coast is clear.
You head to the bathroom, lock the door, and now...
...It's just you and your girl.
You chug that shit. You feel your sparkle returning in full force.
You feel good. you shove the empty bottle into the trash can and cover it with paper towels.
You just have to remember to take the trash out later.
No problem.
You feel ready to conquer the rest of the day, sparkle intact.
[[You go back inside.]] the store floor.Your manager is moving among the shelves, looking at certain products and taking notes on her phone.
She's currently in the canned foods aisle, not too close to the alcohol section, but close enough to make you anxious.
She needs to be far enough away she won't even hear you. But if she goes into the back room, it's over. You'll be all over the security cameras.
You don't care about her possibly rewinding the recording later. After all, you don't usually think that far ahead regardless.
You calculate your move.
[[Go for it]]
[[Wait for her to move]]You start moving towards the alcohol, weaving through other aisles, strategically staying out of eyesight of your coworkers and manager.
You get near the alcohol section, and then...oh no.
Your manager is walking straight towards the alcohol section, towards you.
You don't know what to do,
so you yell in her face
that you definitely were not
about to grab a whole bottle of
Pink Whitney
[[and chug it on the clock.]]You watch your manager move among the shelves in the corner of your eye.
She moves from the canned foods section to the frozen foods section.
Perfect. Almost.
Frozen foods is the furthest away from the alcohol section, but it's a little too close to the restrooms, your next destination (because you weren't going to chug a whole bottle of pink shit in the middle of the aisle, that'd be stupid).
You figure you'll just wait for her to move again. Or you can wait for her to move again first.
[[Go for it now]]
[[Wait one more time]]You're so done, man.
You don't even quit.
[[You give up.]] You weave through the aisles like a spy.
Except you're not a spy, you're an alcoholic.
Nevertheless, you stay perfectly out of sight of your manager.
You see her on the shelf in front of you.
Your girl.
You take her in your arms and look around. You need to be careful now.
You start moving towards the bathrooms. You keep a lookout for your manager, but you don't see her.
You make it to the bathroom. You lock the door behind you.
[[This is it.]]You wait for your manager to move one more time, and she does. She moves straight to the break room. Where the security cameras are.
Great.
You missed your chance completely. You're not even sad, you're just pissed at yourself.
You don't even want anything to do with Sparkle Mart anymore.
That was it. You don't get to play Drunk James Bond. It's all spoiled.
[[You give up.]] You lift your girl above your head and worship her under the fluorescent lights.
Her pink glow in the light shines down on your face.
You're ready for her. You unscrew her and bring her to your lips...
CHUG
CHUG
CHUG
You pull her from your lips and gasp for air.
The whole bottle is empty. You throw it in the trash and hide it under paper towels.
You just have to remember to take out the trash yourself later.
You feel your sparkle turn into fireworks.
You're fucking pumped.
You open the door and [[You go back inside.]] the main floor.