I woke up feeling like a new man.

  Rested. Warm. Not dead.

  Which, in my new line of work, was already three miracles before breakfast.

  I even smiled. That was mistake number one.

  Mistake number two was assuming yesterday had been a fever dream brought on by starvation, exhaustion, or perhaps mild brain damage.

  By mistake number three, I was standing outside the store again.

  Same sign. Same crooked awning. Same faint smell of wet socks and regret.

  And inside?

  The goblins were waiting.

  I took a deep breath and opened the door.

  The bell above the door gave a tired wheeze, as if it, too, regretted my choices.

  The overcast sky made the lighting worse today - which I wouldn’t have thought possible. The shadows had grown opinions overnight, pooling like gossip around the corners. The air smelled faintly of pickles and magic.

  At the counter, the Manager was sipping something thick and green from a mug labeled World’s Okayest Boss.

  He didn’t look up.

  “You’re late.”

  “I wasn’t scheduled.”

  “You are now. I scrawled it on the back of a rat.” He took another slurp. “Didn’t see it? Must’ve scurried off.”

  I opened my mouth to object, then closed it. What was I going to say? I refuse to follow rodent-based HR protocol?

  Instead, I shuffled toward Aisle Three like a man heading to his own funeral.

  “Take Stupid with you!” the Manager called after me.

  “Yeth!” came the high-pitched reply, followed by frantic scrambling and the clatter of what sounded suspiciously like bones.

  I turned. Stupid was dragging a mop twice her size, proudly puffing her chest to show another piece of paper pinned beneath her name tag that read: “Stupid (Assistant to the Assistant Manager).”

  “Promotion?” I asked.

  “Reward for getting rid of scary spooda!” She beamed.

  “…Right.”

  Once we made it out of Tyrant’s earshot, I stopped to talk to Stupid.

  “Listen, what are the hours here?” I asked.

  Hours etched into the back of a rat didn’t really work for me.

  “Eef blindy light ees in sky, we works! Eef no blindy light, we sleeps!” She chirped.

  Great. Today was already going just great.

  “What about days off?” I sighed.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Stupid cocked her head, her ears flopping erratically. “What’s a daze-off?”

  My shoulders slumped.

  “Stupid,” I swallowed. “What do you do with your money if you never do anything but work and sleep?”

  “Sleeps on it!” She exclaimed. “Money eez the best bed!” She nodded vigorously, her ears windmilling enough I had to step back.

  “But Stupid has a small room, sometimes the money takes up too much space!” She suddenly became very serious. “So Boss helps Stupid and takes enough money so she has just enough for a bed! He calls it….” She stopped to think.

  “Taxes! Boss calls it taxes!”

  My jaw hit the floor.

  And she seemed so happy too.

  At that moment, It shambled around the corner, barely dragging his feet off the ground.

  “Do you give away your money too?!” I exclaimed, gesturing to the tiny ball of chaos that was Stupid.

  It stopped and stared at me for a moment.

  Then he scooted forward and looked at my name tag.

  “Beeg Ugly” he monotoned out.

  He slowly looked me over.

  “Makes sense.”

  I was once again morbidly offended. But before I could say anything, It stuck a thumb over his shoulder and pointed towards Stupid.

  “Hers makes sense too.”

  Then he shambled off.

  I watched him go, my mouth agape.

  I hadn’t even made it to Aisle Three yet.

  —-

  By the time I got to Aisle Three, I stopped dead in my tracks.

  It was full.

  Stocked. Organized. Labeled.

  Well, semi organized.

  The shelves were still unlabeled and the tentacles still lounged languidly.

  But there were no holes on the shelf anymore. Colorful potions and probably cursed trinkets practically exploded from the shelves. I had no idea how they even got so much stock, much less got it all moved in.

  Even the spider was still gone.

  I wasn’t sure if that was comforting or deeply concerning.

  “What the…” I muttered, stepping in like I’d just walked into the wrong reality.

  Stupid plopped down beside me, dragging the mop behind her like a prized sword.

  “Night Crews!” she said cheerfully.

  “There’s a night crew?”

  “Yeth!” She beamed. “They sings work songs and throw meat at each other and sometimes scream in languages Stupid doesn’t know!”

  “…Of course they do.”

  A night crew of crazy, efficient, eccentric and possibly magical goblins. What could possibly go wrong here.

  I knelt down beside a row of jars, peering at one labeled Soul Pickles – Limited Edition. It was glowing faintly.

  “That wasn’t here yesterday,” I murmured.

  Stupid leaned over my shoulder. “Oooh! Glow ones scream when you bite them. Very popular.”

  I stared at her. She stared back, completely sincere.

  “…I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

  “Okay!”

  One of the shelves growled.

  Literally. It sounded like it came from the shelf itself.

  I straightened up slowly. “What was that?”

  Stupid looked at me. “What was what?”

  I looked at the shelf, then at her. “Whatever just growled?”

  Stupid blinked. “Oh! Mageek Store he eats customers who try to shop…” here she dropped to a whisper:

  “Unsafely”.

  The shelf creaked.

  I took a long, slow breath.

  “Right. So…we eat thieves here.”

  Stupid looked mortified. “No! Never! Boss says we just have to make sure Safety comes first!”

  “Okay. Right. That’s fine. Everything’s fine.” I hyperventilated a bit.

  I picked up my broom and got to work.

  Because really—what else was I going to do?

  “I love my job” I sobbed softly, gaslighting in full force.