The next day Aisle Three was blocked off.

  Not like, with stuff.

  It was taped off. Like a murder scene.

  In fact, that’s probably exactly what it was.

  But was I smart enough to leave?

  Oh no, of course not. Instead, somehow I was now on Aisle Four.

  Aisle Four was, if possible, even worse than Aisle Three.

  At least in Three, I could mostly tell what was supposed to be on the shelves. Here? Bottles oozed, jars jittered, and a suspicious number of things were growing eyeballs.

  Literally growing eyeballs.

  One of the shelves was glaring at me with all the malevolence of a dried out turkey - dying just to be dinner - only to be ruined.

  I in turn glared at my new assignment: clean the mess before the night shift began. Which apparently meant “make it less likely for customers to get eaten by the merchandise.” Minimal effort was encouraged, because “too clean makes things suspicious,” according to Stupid.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Before Aisle Three became a danger zone, the store seemed happy with the fact I was cleaning it.

  …Unless that was what caused the issue?

  We are not going there.

  With stalwart conviction it was not my fault someone died from Aisle Three being too clean, I shook my head to get back to work.

  I sighed. Again.

  Maybe I was going for a world record.

  I proceeded to prod a bubbling flask with my broom. It gurgled ominously but didn’t explode.

  Encouraged, I started sweeping.

  It was going okay.

  Right up until I accidentally knocked over a bottle labeled “Possibly Flammable - Definitely Unstable” onto another labeled “Not for Internal OR External Use.”

  There was a moment—just a moment—where everything paused. Even the whispering robes the next aisle over seemed to hush.

  Yes, I knew there were whispering robes. They had taken up floating past occasionally and laughing at me.

  Then everything went spectacularly wrong.

  There was a pop, a fizz, and a BANG that launched me backward into a tower of “Healing Potions.” I landed with a crash, the air now full of sparkling green mist and something that smelled suspiciously like burnt pineapple.

  The shelf I hit wobbled. I had just enough time to groan before it gave up entirely, raining potions down on me like a hailstorm of bad decisions.

  I lay there, soaked, the ground around me swirling with magic, broken glass, and an unreasonable amount of glitter.

  Yes, glitter. NOT powdered gremlin teeth.

  Definitely not powdered gremlin teeth.

  Somewhere nearby, a bottle labeled “Emotion Enhancement Serum” shattered. I felt my left eyelid twitch.

  Slowly, carefully, I sat up.

  A tiny goblin head poked around the corner—it was Stupid, holding a mop twice her size and grinning like she’d found a free buffet.

  “Ohhh, Beeg Ugly,” she whispered in awe. “You gonna mutate sooo good!”

  I opened my mouth to object—

  —and immediately hiccupped a cloud of orange smoke.

  “Help - ,” I pleaded.

  And that’s when the first tail sprouted.

  —

  The next tail popped out shortly after the first.

  I tried to swat it off.

  It swatted me back.

  Stupid clapped her hands in glee.

  “You sproutin’ upgrades!” she cheered.

  “I don’t want upgrades!” I gasped, hiccupping another puff of smoke - this one neon green.

  “Oh! Stupid help!” And with a cackle, she shoved a suspiciously sloshing vial into my hands.

  “What’s this?” I gasped, my fingers starting to claw.

  Mercy! I thought hysterically as one of my eyes grew large enough to pop out of its socket.

  This is how it happens! I bet everyone in here used to be normal. I bet they were people! Now they are all goblins. Oh Toads! Oh Goblins! Oh -

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  “Potion makes it stop!” Stupid chirped happily, her ears flopping crazily while she danced in happy circles.

  I downed the bottle instantly.

  And my stomach rumbled ominously.

  “Stupid, it’s not working!” I cried, flames shooting from my nose.

  “It eez! It eez working Beeg! It made the stopping stop! Now you gets even more upgrades!” She shrieked hysterically.

  Oh.

  My.

  Paycheck is not worth this!

  And worse, I could see all the eyeballs watching me. I could feel the schadenfreude.

  I took a deep breath, trying to steady my shaking hands. I had a tail. Two tails, in fact, and I was fairly sure one of them was wagging just to taunt me. I tried to slap it down, but my hands just kept missing, like some cruel joke from the universe.

  “Okay. No big deal,” I muttered under my breath, another stream of flame ejecting from my right nostril to melt a bottle of something.

  Which of course, just released more smoke into the air.

  “Alright. Ok…just…just don’t panic.”

  But, honestly, that was pretty much my entire plan at this point: don’t panic. A solid, foolproof strategy. I should’ve been proud.

  Another tail sprouted.

  “Ugh,” I groaned, face-planting into the nearest shelf. “Great. Wonderful.”

  The room was spinning with potion fumes, glitter, and what I could only describe as shattered hopes.

  I glanced at the ceiling. No more magical explosions. No more random potions going off. No more new body parts sprouting. For a blissful moment, I thought maybe it was over.

  Maybe this was just a very strange fever dream, and I’d wake up, and everything would be fine.

  Then a bottle marked “Undetermined Extra Appendage Serum” clinked off the shelf behind me, and I felt something else shift in my body.

  “Of course,” I muttered flatly. “Why wouldn’t I grow a third arm now? Might as well.”

  I rubbed my face with both hands — no, wait, three hands. One was the new, uninvited appendage. It was just… hanging there, useless and completely alien to me.

  I could feel my eyelid twitching.

  The remaining one. Because the other one had an eyeball too big for it.

  The air smelled like burnt pineapple and disappointment.

  “Oh Beeg! It eetz beautiful!” Stupid gasped, staring at my third hand with starry eyes.

  “Alright,” I said, slumping against a shelf that did *not* have eyeballs growing on it, accepting my fate. “This is fine. This is exactly how I imagined my life would go. Sure. Whatever. Just… don’t touch anything else, and we’ll get through this. I’m sure I’ll get hazard pay.”

  I closed my eyes, breathing in the fragrant fumes of inevitable doom.

  “Please just…don’t explode,” I whispered to the shelves.

  And then, from somewhere deep in the heart of Aisle Four, I heard the unmistakable sound of something ominous.

  I looked up, straight into the eyes of Clipboard Tyrant.

  I sighed.

  “I just wanted a job.”

  ___

  “And so, in conclusion, I think it is only fair if you forfeit all pay and sign a contract to work for as long as I see fit. After all, my poor, clean, beautiful shop is now a mess,” Smug Clipboard Tyrant smiled.

  “No” I barked.

  Literally barked.

  Because now I had a Kobold’s voice box.

  Why wouldn’t I have a kobold’s voice box.

  It was at that moment the front door to the shop slammed open.

  “Vaarg!” A voice I recognized shouted.

  Please no.

  “Vaarg! I don’t - “

  At that moment Grif walked around the corner.

  And stared at me.

  With my three hands.

  And three tails.

  And flaming nostrils.

  “Beeg?” he whispered.

  I slumped even lower. “Grif” I barked in response. At least he had the decency not to laugh.

  “Vaarg,” he sighed, “what the hells did you do?”

  The goblin spluttered.

  If I wasn’t so uncomfortable, I might’ve laughed.

  “Meeeee?” He exclaimed imperiously.

  “Cut the crap Vaarg, we need to talk.” He turned and left without another word.

  To my surprise, Vaarg followed.

  —-

  As I sat, slumped in the aisle, I could hear the two of them making their way to the back of the store. They had waited until they were a good two aisles down before they started talking.

  I guess they didn’t realize my recently acquired bat ears weren’t just for show.

  “Vaargus, what’s up with the kid?” I heard Grif say. “Guy’s an absolute klutz. He is lucky his face hasn't melted off.”

  Vaarg snorted.

  “Please, I had him working on Aisle Four for a reason. Most dangerous thing there is - well you saw it. Still cost me a fortune” he sighed.

  A short moment later, Grif grunted. I could get used to this super hearing.

  “What is it you see in him anyway? A half-elf? Here?”

  Another brief pause.

  “Did you really not notice?”

  “Notice wha - . Oh. Oh.”

  And then the door shut behind them.

  —-

  Ugly the tiny, bedraggled rat of a goblin, showed up some time later with a potion for me to take, assuring me it would get me back to normal.

  “This won’t like…remove my spleen or anything, right?” I asked.

  Ugly just shrugged.

  Left with little other option, I downed it, my mind drifting to the earlier conversation.

  Notice what?

  What had Vaarg meant by that?

  A thump brought me to my senses, and I looked over to see one of my extra appendages lying on the floor.

  In a surprisingly quick manner, the rest followed.

  Disgusting. But better than if my body had absorbed them back up.

  Until I saw Stupid squeal in delight and start lugging them off like some prized possession.

  A whimper may have escaped.

  Not that I’d admit it.

  I wasn’t always…whatever I am now.

  “You’ll need to clean up Aisle Four tomorrow, but for now get home and get some rest,” I heard Ugly off to the side. I nodded absently as he pushed me out the door.

  “Oh and Beeg! You work the night shift tomorrow!”

  Fantastic. Just fantastic.

  I groaned as I walked out the door.