“You’re ugly and stupid.”

  “I... what?” I responded, looking at the giant of a goblin sitting behind the counter.

  “You’re hired. Pay is whatever I feel like. Go stock Aisle Three. I’ve got a big delivery tonight, and my minions need a place to stick it.” The goblin adjusted his nametag—made of solid gold, I was pretty sure—that read simply Manager, and turned away.

  I was having a hard time imagining a goblin earning a title for anything, much less this hellhole of a store.

  He gestured to one of his minions—a lanky goblin with a crumpled paper name tag reading It.

  A decidedly less impressive title.

  The creature shuffled forward with a sad excuse for a broom, its bristles as sparse as a boar’s backside.

  “Uh, thanks… It?” I asked uncertainly. The goblin stared deadpan, ears drooping morosely.

  “It finnks ugly person will fit in well,” the goblin shrugged, voice flat.

  “Or die.”

  It dropped the broom and wandered off.

  I stood there, bewildered. How the hell did I find myself in this situation? I hated that I was so desperate I was still standing here. But the mine had collapsed, and literally nowhere in this forsaken city would employ a half elf.

  I would know. I had asked everywhere.

  “So much for keeping my dignity,” I muttered.

  Something smashed into the back of my head, jolting me forward. I stumbled and turned, anger rising. The manager goblin sat behind the counter, looking down its long, crooked nose. Its clipboard was notably absent. I looked down and spotted it by my foot, where it had fallen after hitting me in the head. I narrowed my eyes at the goblin.

  “Oops. I dropped my clipboard,” he grinned, the gleam in its eyes almost sinister. “Too bad you were in the way. Could’ve avoided that—if you were on Aisle Three... where you were supposed to be.”

  I grumbled and headed off to find my station, pointedly not picking up the clipboard.

  The stupid fat goblin could get it himself—or get a minion to do it.

  Wait... did I qualify as a minion now? I quickened my pace before my new manager got any ideas.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Aisle Three was an unholy mess. Dissected tentacles drooped from shelves, their suction cups still twitching. Goo pooled under random, unlabeled potions, oozing like some kind of toxic swamp. A lone candle hung from the ceiling, flickering erratically, casting shadows that made the place feel like a horror show. I was half-expecting a goblin to leap out from behind a shelf and scream, “Surprise!”

  I turned, coming face to face with a spider the size of my head sitting on a web over a price tag.

  I nearly dropped dead in fright.

  Thankfully it didn’t move.

  I resisted the urge to poke it, instead opting to study it.

  I wasn’t sure if the price was for the spider or for a product that had been missing so long, the spider had moved in.

  I glanced down at my pathetic excuse for a broom and sighed.

  “Stupid goblin,” I muttered.

  “SURPRISE!?” a far too perky voice screeched.

  My heart felt like it exploded.

  Ancients help me, there really was a goblin.

  I looked down to see a tiny goblin staring up at me—the creature barely came up to my knees (not counting the ears, which were as long as it was tall).

  On its filthy vest was a paper name tag, scribbled with Stupid in what looked like…pink crayon.

  “New minion called?” the tiny goblin squeaked in a voice so high-pitched it was almost inaudible. Her ears flopped like a bedraggled curtain in a storm, each bounce sending them slapping against her back. I’d never seen such an unholy creature in all my years.

  Maybe it was the cousin of a rat and a rabbit, if those two had been violently shoved together.

  “I… no, I wasn’t calling for you,” I replied.

  The goblin nodded and turned to leave without a word, its ears dragging on the ground behind it. “Wait… since you’re here!” I half sobbed, half cried out.

  The goblin turned back, ears pointing straight up.

  “Where do I start?” I asked, and the goblin looked at me with pity so heavy I almost impaled myself on the broom.

  Getting a pity party from a goblin was not something I ever needed in my life.

  Sighing, I continued, “Is that spider supposed to be there?” I motioned to the (I’m pretty sure) man-eating spider hanging above a price tag.

  “Beeg spooda not supposed to be there!” Stupid squeaked, far too happily. “But…spooda eet little Stupid. So spooda stays!” She smiled, her pointed teeth doing nothing to comfort me.

  Then she stopped to look me up and down.

  “Beeg, strong... ugly minion help little Stupid?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.

  I spluttered, staring at her in outrage.

  She smiled back innocently.

  I sighed in defeat.

  “I’ll get rid of your spider—can you help me with the goo?”

  The goblin looked at me like I was stupid. “Eef spooda doesn’t kill Ugly, Stupid will get rid of goo!” she smiled again, her pointed teeth now looking downright sinister in the dim light from the candle above.

  I mumbled to myself and turned to face the giant spider.

  Which I was sure I would survive. Surely.

  Probably.