New! Josh’s Diary of the Damned
Josh Caplan, clerk at the Quik-Mart convenience store and lead of the Josh of the Damned series, doesn’t look forward to Halloween. If you think it’s related to his job selling snacks to monsters, you’d be wrong. Here now are some never before seen work diaries of Josh, and his overnight gig, as clerk to alternate dimension monsters and regular old humans alike.
(And, if you don’t have the Josh of the Damned series, they’re all on sale this month at Riptide.)
October 1st, 11 PM
Arrived at work to find the Sloshy machine had backed up, and there was a small pool of Orangawesome syrup by the magazine rack. I wish when I was applying for this job, Mr. Kwan would have mentioned how much mopping I was going to have to do. I hate mopping. I don’t even do it at home. Which is probably why the kitchen floor s so sticky. But Doug says it’s actually helpful when your balance isn’t great. He may have a point. Or he hates mopping as much as I do.
Could you have a completely carpeted house? I’m thinking yeah, but then you’d have to vacuum, and I hate vacuuming too. I guess I’d have to get a Roomba, or figure out how to go from room to room on zip lines.
An old guy came into the store, and brought twelve cans of tuna up to the counter, giggling. He continued giggling as I rang them up. He leaned over and whispered to me, “I’m wasted.” I almost thanked him for the news flash, but figured fuck it. If I got to his age and was buying tuna in a convenience store after midnight, I’d hope I’d be wasted too.
The Sloshy started making weird noises, like someone trying to talk in Romanian through a pillow full of pudding. I pulled the plug. Why did Mr. Kwan even get this damn thing?
Night’s first zombie. Only lost a toe while dragging himself up to the register. Still not as gross as Sloshy syrup.
Doug stopped by after work, claiming he was bored. I handed him the silver broom and told him to go chase the werewolves out of the parking lot. He should know better than to try that stuff with me.
Zombie number two. Didn’t leave bits of herself behind, but did leave a mud trail, which meant – ugh – more mopping. FML.
Since Doug wasn’t back yet, I went out, fearing the wolves had eaten him or dragged him away. I found him sitting by the ice machine, asleep, a werewolf on either side of him, also asleep. He was holding a still smoldering, stubby joint between his fingers, and the wolf with its head across his knees looked up at me with glassy, bloodshot eyes. Doug got the werewolves stoned?! How the … you know what? I don’t care. He’s just going to have to come back and get them stoned every night, so they’re out of my hair. I hope he likes his new, unpaid job.
To Be Continued …