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Fortuna approached the half-formed golden man, the second evil godling, with her small kitchen knife in hand. Listening to the fancy new voice in her head had already resulted in her first successful murder, and she let it guide her into raising her knife to commence the murder-stabbing, already anticipating the 100% increase in her number of total evil godlings killed. An important metric, it went without saying
Complications arose mid-swung when the voice and all its certainty abruptly vanished, but as the saying goes, ‘one does not simply stop a murder-stabbing mid-swing,’ a point her knife made quite adeptly upon collision with the nape of the godling’s neck.
As the godling convulsed and failed like a beheaded chicken on speed, Fortuna pondered what to do next.
Could she go back to her uncle and her village? Yes, the steps readily appeared to her in her mind.
But she hesitated. What was the best thing to do? It would be awfully embarrassing, after all, to do the wrong thing when the nice voice in her head was all too happy to tell her the right way to do things. Like how to get away with murdering godlings before they got all unstoppable and mopey about you jabbing their partner in the neck with a pointy object.
“Would going back to my uncle and village be the best thing to do?”
No, you dumb dummy.
Well that was that, apparently. If she was going to be living on her own from now on, she would need to go out and get a job posthaste. No one liked a layabout, homeless person with no job, after all. It would definitely clash with her cute, eleven-year-old aesthetic, and that was the only thing she had going for her right now, since she had been rendered homeless.
Oh. She did have her voice. It had proved very good at helping her with all that murder business. “Could I get a job murdering people?”
Yes.
Very well then! She would— waaaiiit a minute.
“ Should I get a job murdering people?”
Reply hazy, try again.
“Oh fuff, who has the time for redoing things these days?”
Step one, go back through the portal—
“No, voice! That was rhetorical! God!”
You just killed him. And her.
Things were suddenly getting religious, and that was right out. She was a woman—well, girl—on a mission! She needed a job! “How do I get my first job? No wait— How do I get the best first job for me?”
Fortuna patted herself on the back for remembering to be specific about that when making her request.
Go back through the portal you used to get here...
Fortuna encountered many strange things as she followed the path to getting her best first job, but that didn’t mean she was any less flummoxed by all her odd surroundings as she walked into the ginormous structure. She was just glad she had her nice voice to guide her. Otherwise, she certainly would have been trampled by one of those large, shiny carriages.
“I wonder if they need to be fed if they don’t have horses?”
No .
“Nifty.”
Grab one of the carts...
She did so, happily letting her voice steer her along deeper into the cavernous room. Step-by-step, she gathered up wood, nails, and a hammer before dutifully proceeding back towards the entrance.
“Excuse me, little miss, but you need to pay for those things!” a man loudly told her as she passed through the magic doors that opened for her. “Where on earth are your parents?”
Tell him...
“No I don’t, they’re dead, and the reason you feel ill lately is because your wife has been putting rat poison in your soup so she can get your money and run off with Alejandro. What a slut, amiright?”
The man stopped in his tracks, his jaw hanging open.
Leave the idiot behind.
Fortuna whistled jauntily as she proceeded forward without any further issue. Such a helpful voice!
Thank you.
“You’re welcome!”
Okay, go over there, push that button to open the back, and put everything inside .
She tried to pick up the cart itself, but it was heavy .
No, no, put everything in the cart in the hatch, not the cart itself.
“You said everything.”
Listen here, you little runt. Which of us is an eleven-year-old murderer, and which of us is the being of inconceivable power with so much processing power it can predict the future for, like, a gajillion years into the future?
“What’s a gajillion?”
A big goddamn number, now hop to it, squirt! And ditch the cart, would ya?
Fortuna haphazardly dumped the spoils of her trip into the vehicle and kicked the cart out of the way. The metal carriage trying to pass by protested about this state of affairs, but the voice guided her into her own carriage instead. She personally found it quite bizarre that she would need to pull it apart and play with colored strings to get it to move, but she had never ridden in a horseless carriage herself, so what did she—
A roar emerged from inside the carriage, and she laughed with wonder. There was a lion hidden in there the whole time?!
Eh, close enough. Now here’s how you drive this thing...
The lion carriage lunged forwards when she put her little foot where her voice told her too, and since she wasn’t tall enough to see through the front, the voice took control of matters from there.
Eventually they reached another large structure, and one more voice-guided shopping spree later, she marched towards the entrance with her spoils in hand.
Oh geez, here comes another one of these idiots. Tell her...
“Mark checked me out but never gave me the receipt, the lazy bastard. By the way, you’re pregnant, and today’s lotto number is going to be four, nine, twelve, thirteen, sixteen, forty-eight, and four. Gotta act fast if you want to be a millionaire though, kaybai!”
Okay, best first job, here we come. Go get your ‘carriage,’ chip chop chip.
More tossing of items into her carriage and shoving carts passed, then she was off again playing with the funny strings and rotating the wheel when the voice told her to. Before long the it told her to stop, and she stepped out into an area with dozens of neat and tidy houses all around.
Oi, this ain’t a sight-seeing tour. You want a job? Work! Grab that hammer and nail, and...
The voice took hold of her hands, and she built and mixed. She was finished in practically no time, and with a satisfied sigh, she plopped into the comfortable, collapsible chair she had procured at the last store.
Congratulations, you’ve got your best first job.
“That’s nice. What is my best first job?”
“Well hello there, little miss!” a man her uncle’s age cheerfully greeted her as he walked up with obvious curiosity. “I have to say, I didn’t expect to see another lemonade stand opening up, much less that you would be building it on the spot! What’s your name, hon?”
Tell him Fortuna.
“Fortuna.”
“I don’t think I’ve met your parents yet. What’s your full name, Fortuna?”
Tell him Fortuna, Tiny Murderer and Bearer of The All Knowing Voice.
“Fortuna, Tiny Murderer and Bearer of The All Knowing Voice.”
“Oh you kids and your imaginations, these days! Well I can’t not try the lemonade of an entrepreneurial young woman with such a fascinating name!” He leaned in and loudly whispered, “Don’t tell my Jean I gave you some of my business though! She’s the precocious, jealous blond who runs the lemonade stand around the corner.”
“Okay, I won’t tell her.”
“Good good. 25 cents for a glass, Miss Fortuna?”
“25 sense?”
“Righty-o! Here’s your quarter.”
He plopped a little metal disk onto the wood. They sat there for a minute. The man fidgeted, but Fortuna stayed still. Cute eleven-year-old entrepreneurs didn’t fidget.
“Are... Are you going to serve me some lemonade?”
“What’s lemonade?”
“This lemonade.” He pointed at the yellow liquid the voice had her concoct from lemons, water, sugar, and other miscellania.
“Oh. Okay.”
She poured him a glass of her lemonade. He took a sip, and his eyes went wide. She worried for a second that her voice had gotten something wrong, but he abruptly began to drink it again, so quickly in fact that he finished it in short order.
How dare you doubt me? I just helped you distill the nectar of the goddamn gods out of little more than some groceries and crack cocaine! Have some respect!
“Sorry.”
“I need more,” the man declared, his eyes wide as saucers. He all but slammed another disk onto the counter.
She topped off his glass. He greedily drank it all, making a displeased noise when he spilled some on his jacket. He shoved the wet spot on his jacket into his mouth and while still sucking on his clothing, he slapped another disk on the wooden surface of her stand, and she gave him another drink.
A little blond-haired girl in a yellow shirt rounded the street corner, looking first confused then irate. “Daddy, what’re— Wait, why are you buying lemonade from someone else?!”
“Are you Jean?” Fortuna asked. “Because I’m not supposed to tell you he’s giving me his business.”
The man spit out his jacket before downing his third glass in one shot with a noise halfway between a grunt and a goat in heat. “I’m sorry, Jean, I just— This is so good !”
Jean gave Fortuna a dirty look, and Fortuna did the smart thing to do when someone endorses your product in front of a prospective buyer. “25 cents, please.”
Jean kicked the stand, knocking the jug of lemonade over. The girl’s father cried out in dismay and began to alternately try to suck the jolly juice out of the wood and yell at her about killing his hopes and dreams.
Fortuna, for her part, picked at her now sticky clothes in dismay.
“I need fresh clothes.”
Okay, go mug that yellow abomination of a child over there for her clothes.
“I would like new clothes instead, please. Jean might spill more lemonade on me. She seems hateful.”
Well lucky for you and them, they’re too wrapped up in each other to pay attention to you. Now take your quarters and let’s blow this lemonade stand.
Fortuna stared in disbelief at the sheer amount of clothes all around her. She could quite literally stand in one place and turn a complete circle and always have piles and piles of clothes in sight, and there were even more clothes hanging from the strange clothesline. How did the seamstresses manage it all? Did this place have a small army of them? It seemed plausible, given the immensity of the nearby structures, which were equally mind-boggling to her.
Two words. Child labor.
“Yes, I do want to labor,” Fortuna affirmed. “That’s why I want new clothes that aren’t sticky?”
“Uh. Why are your clothes sticky?”
Fortuna turned her attention to the source of the voice, a girl around her height and age with long, straight black hair. “A little girl beat my wood and spilled my juice over me in front of her father.”
The other girl stared. “Oookaaay... I came over because you looked lost, but I’ll just—”
“Am I lost?”
Lost all your marbles, yeah.
“Well, I dunno? Like I said, you just looked lost. I don’t know you or anything,” the black-haired girl replied, looking uncomfortable.
“Oh sorry, I was actually asking the voice in my head.”
The other girl blinked. “Uh. Why are you listening to a voice in your head?”
“Because it helps me do things very well.”
“Uh huh.” The girl seemed at a loss for a moment before latching onto a different topic. “So what happened to you?”
Fortuna considered that request. “It seems like it would take me a very long time to tell you everything that has ever happened to me.”
“What? No! I mean what happened to you today !”
“Oh, okay. A lot happened, certainly. Voice, what did I do today?”
“Uh—”
Tell her...
“I woke up with the certain knowledge that two evil godlings were going to destroy all the Earths in a few years' time because I dreamed about it, and everyone knows you can totally believe everything that happens in your dreams. Fortunately, I had The All Knowing Voice in my head by that point, and it pointed out I could point them with my pointer in the place it told me to point if I wanted to point them in the direction of death. I took exception to the godlings destroying all Earths since I live on an Earth, which is consequently one of the discrete set of ‘all Earths.’ So I murder-stabbed them in the neck, discovered it was best I not go back home, and newly homeless realized I needed to get a job to support myself. I naturally asked the voice how to obtain my best first job, which was a briefly incredibly successful lemonade stand until a jealous girl beat my wood and spilled my juice over me in front of her father, my best and only customer. I got here because I told the voice I wanted new clothes, and it very generously led me to this place, a purveyor of new clothes. This concludes the summary of what has happened to me today.”
A long stretch of silence passed where the other girl said nothing and, with the conversation seemingly over, Fortuna returned her attention back to finding new clothes. An important distinction she was quite proud of herself for remembering when asking her voice how to go about matters, albeit after she initially forgot and was given a bad set of information.
He now, I’ll have you know you could have easily taken that pencil necked little—
“Why are you shopping for boys’ clothes?”
Fortuna paused. “I want new girl’s clothes please.”
“Those are over—”
Oh sure, you ask for new clothes, I lead you to them, then you go and decide that’s not good enough for a munchkin like you! Next thing you know, you’ll be wanting new girl’s clothes that fit you!
“Yes, please.”
“Huh? Oh, you want me to lead you there?
“Yes, please.”
“Sure, I guess,” the girl replied, still looking unsure as she walked off and Fortuna followed. “I’m Rebecca by the way.”
“I’m Fortuna.”
Fortuna, Tiny Murderer and Bearer of The All Knowing Voice, I think you mean.
“Fortuna, Tiny Murderer and Bearer of The All Knowing Voice.”
“I’ve never heard of— You know what? A weird name suits you.”
“Thank you. A weird name suits you too,” she replied as they reached the right section and began to pluck items off the shelves.
Rebecca’s eye twitched. “ Anyway , you said you want a job? Why? My dad’s got a job, and it’s so boring !”
“So I can make money and support myself.”
“Weren’t you just saying you have a super power?”
“No, I said I have a voice in my head that tells me how to do things well.”
I’m the best at it, and don’t you forget it!
“Well whatever. What I was going to say is that you could ask the voice how to fight crime. You know, be a superhero !”
“Could I?”
Yeah, whatever gets your rocks off.
“I can, if I want to drop rocks.”
“Sure, whatever, Fortuna. Dressing room is over there, if you want to try any of that on, by the way.”
Fortuna moved in the direction Rebecca had indicated, finding a smaller wooden structure nearby with doors that had gaps at the bottom. Using such ill-fitting doors seemed like a questionable decision, but she stepped inside, stripped away her sticky clothes, and began to remove the strange, dangling pieces from her new clothes.
“Being a superhero sounds way better than my dad’s job,” Rebecca complained from outside, apparently having nothing better to do than follow Fortuna around. “He’s a life consultant . It’s probably the most boring job ever.”
Fortuna frowned as she pulled on some of the strange clothes.
“Gadzooks, I didn’t consider the possibility that there might be jobs I didn’t know about!”
“Did you seriously just—? Nevermind. Weird, got it. Look, some people really don’t know what to do with their life, so they go to a life consultant like my dad for help.”
“Oh. That sounds like what the voice does. I could do that with its help.”
“Oh yeah? Prove it. Pretend I’m a client. What should I do to be successful?”
Ooo, this’ll be good. Tell her...
“Contract cancer, drink a vial made of one of the evil godlings’ cells to gain superpowers, join a shadowy organization involved in a dimension-spanning conspiracy, use your powers to become a world famous hero, and use the influence of the shadowy organization to become the head of a nation-wide organization policing super-powered individuals while also secretly remaining involved with the shadowy organization.”
Rebecca considered that. “Seems like a pretty good gig.”
Fortuna started towards the exit. “Well, you would ultimately go brain dead after a teenager shoves a bunch of bugs down your throat, would have your body possessed by an albino man, and ultimately live out the remainder of your life brain dead.”
“Oh, uh... that sounds—”
“Which will be a very, very long time because one of your powers would be a form of invincibility that functions by keeping you in unchanging stasis, meaning you wouldn’t die of old age until your powers ran out of energy.”
“That sou—”
“But that whole shadowy organization you helped would successfully resolve the dimension-spanning conspiracy with the help of the girl who shoved bugs down your throat after she undergoes a form of brain surgery. I should note the point of the conspiracy was to stop a godling from killing billions of dimensions worth of Earths or the equivalent of quintillions of people.”
“ That sou— ”
“Setting out to save that many people and actually managing to do it would objectively mean you were quite successful. Of course, there are more—”
“Fortuna?”
Fortuna paused, the exit in sight but forgotten for the moment. “Yes?”
“You really shouldn’t be a life consultant.”
What?! You tell that little shit you—and by you, I mean I—could totally handle being a life consultant!
“Oh. You don’t think so? The voice says it ‘could totally handle’ it!”
Rebecca looked strained. “Forget. And you know what? Forget the whole job thing. They don’t let kids our age get jobs anyway.”
“What? Really? Why is your world so strange?”
The insinuation that Fortuna was not from this world was enough to finally send Rebecca scurrying away before she got beamed up to the mothership by aliens looking to begin their own human farm for the purposes of freezing them into humansicles for consumption by their young on weekends if they got good grades at alien school.
The imagination of a child was a delightful thing.
Unfortunately for Fortuna, she was going to need to cast hers aside in the name of truth, justice, and the American way: Getting a goddamn job. “I want to not be treated like a kid.”
Oh boy. You ever hear the saying, ‘Two Kids in a Trenchcoat,’ pintsize?
Fortuna turned this way and that, examining herself with a critical eye. “Well I certainly look like an adult.”
Of course you do. I’m The All Knowing Voice. Your wish is my fugget about it.
“No one will treat me like a kid? I can get a job now?”
Column A, sure, but you didn’t go asking for all that column B malarky.
“I want to feel confident no one can tell I’m a kid.”
Oh, is that all? Well shit, I got that covered. Roll out, Autosquirt.
She methodically began to follow the steps one by one until she reached a street corner and accidentally bumped into someone. She yelped in surprise, not having expected the collision with the voice guiding her.
Always with the adding on extra things!
“Sorry, ma’am! Didn’t mean to bump into you!”
Fortuna blinked as she steadied herself. She knew that voice. She looked down and blinked twice more to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her. “Hello, Rebecca.”
Rebecca squinted in confusion. “How do you know my... Wait. Oh come on.”
“My name is Fortuna. We met in the clothes store yesterday.”
“Did you really think I could forget you ? Now how did you get so tall ?”
That response did, indeed, reassure Fortuna that no one could tell she was a kid. Another victory for the voice in her head.
I accept tips, donations, and your undying fealty. This ain’t no charity.
“This is my elaborate disguise to pose as an adult to get jobs easier.”
“Elaborate... disguise...”
“Yes. Stilts, a suit and tie, and a fedora.”
“I... I cannot even. Why would you do this?”
“I want to explain to Rebecca.”
“Uh. Yeah, I want you to too?”
Tell her, ‘You told me to.’
“You told me to.”
“Wha— I did no such thing!”
Hm. “I want to explain better to Rebecca.”
“Oh for—”
For a definition of ‘better,’ heh. Tell her...
“You pointed out a critical flaw in my plans to obtain a job yesterday. Namely, the age your world’s society deems a child prepared to enter the workforce is substantially higher than that of my own world, which is relatively more primitive than your own, albeit more advanced than some worlds I could guide you to. Given my upbringing and present state of homelessness, I am determined to obtain a job by whatever means necessary, and so, with your warning foremost in my thoughts, I asked The All Knowing Voice how I could avoid being treated as a kid. The results of my elaborate disguise are as you see here. Truly, no one would suspect a grown woman in a suit and tie wearing a fedora to be a preteen on stilts being guided by an otherworldly power into conveying inhumanely well the perfect illusion of womanhood.”
“This is weird. You are weird. I’m going to school. Please stop using your voice or whatever it is to follow me.”
Fortuna watched, perplexed, as Rebecca moved to depart. Then the strangest thing happened. A woman in a colorful vest with a big red sign signaled to passing lion carriages that they should stop to allow Rebecca to pass. The woman stepped aside once Rebecca was out of the way, and the lion carriages resumed their progress.
“I want to understand what just happened.”
Well go ask her or whatever, I’m on break. Union mandated.
Fortuna walked over, her stilts perfectly obscured behind her perfect illusion of womanhood. “Excuse me. What was that you did just now?”
The colorfully vested woman gave her a confused look that Fortuna imagined mirrored her own. “I stopped traffic...?”
“The whowhatnow?”
“The cars ? You know, so that girl could get to school?”
“Is ‘cars’ shorthand for ‘lion carriages’? Is this your job ?”
The woman scratched her head. “You ain’t from around here, are ya?”
“No, I am not. Is this your job ?”
“Yes...?”
Intriguing. So protecting children on their way to school was a job here. Well, there was only one logical response to this.
“I want to get a job like you.”
“You know what? Power to you. Go talk down to—
Breaktime’s over. What’re we doing?
“I’m asking her how I can get a job like hers.”
The brightly vested woman took a careful step away. “Right so... Good luck and what all.”
A gaggle of children pranced by, and the high visibility woman leapt into action as was her function, so Fortuna decided she would need to take drastic action.
“All Knowing Voice, I want a job like hers.”
I mean, you could just mug her for her clothes and—
“That’s not what I want, AKV.”
Oh god. I’ll help you get the job, okay? Just never, ever call me that again.
A few dozen steps and the better part of the day later, Fortuna stood at her assigned intersection clad in her very own reflective vest with a stop sign in hand, prepared for the end of the school day. One child reached her before any others.
“No.”
Fortuna looked down at Rebecca, who glared mutinously up at her. “No?”
“You stole that vest.”
“I did not. I got a job as a crossing guard.”
“How— Let me guess. The voice told you how?”
She’s got you pegged.
“Of course.”
“Whatever, I’m goi—” Rebecca began to say as she started to pass by.
“I need to make it safe for children to cross here.”
Oh, that’s easy. One step. Go!
Fortuna flung her stop sign at the metal carriage that had just begun to barrel through the area with clear disregard for the stop sign posted in the ground nearby. The hidden beasts inside it cried in dismay as it careened sideways into a tall wooden post with thick, black rope hanging from it. The long piece of carved timber fell across to the other corner and struck a ramshackle building there, causing it to crumble at an angle across a second side of the area. Another metal carriage saw this coming and tried to quicken its pace to avoid being crushed but was ultimately struck, sending it skidding out of control into the path of several more oncoming carriages. These tried to stop in time but failed, instead causing them to collide and pile up. A man walking nearby screeched in terror, wailing about something called a ‘horoscope,’ as he tried to flee across the only unobstructed path still leading into the strange, omnipresent stone squares littering the city. Naturally, this caused the beasts in yet more metal carriages to protest as they too crashed into one another in an effort to avoid striking him. An ultimately futile effort, alas, as the horoscope man was flung bodily into the middle of the area when struck by one of the carriages before it came to a screeching halt.
Rebecca screamed. Fortuna, meanwhile, assessed her handiwork. Two of the four stone paths leading into the square were blocked by carriages, one was blocked by the collapsed building, and the final path was blocked by the long, wooden pole. Yes, the area was certainly safe for children to cross now, since it had become quite impossible for any metal carriages to pass through in the first place.
“You may cross now, Rebecca.”
Fortuna moped as she left the building where she had successfully interviewed for her position as a crossing guard earlier that morning. Despite her rousing success in securing the area for children to pass by safely, the man who had given her the job had not viewed her actions in the same light and had fired her. Fired her! The metal carriages—or cars, as her now ex-boss had referred to them—were apparently quite expensive. As was the timber pole. Less so the building, but the cleanup ... Oh, and there was the horoscope man. But by god, the area had been safe for children to pass!
Yeah, screw that guy. Who died and made him Supreme Ruler of Crossing Guards?
She had offered as recompense all the money she had, the 75 cents she made at the lemonade stand, and he had yelled at her for ‘ joking ’!
Right?! I mean, come on—ruuude.
She was crushed that she had lost her job so quickly and debated returning to her lemonade stand—no doubt being an adult would increase the flow of sales—only to pause when her stomach growled.
“I suppose it’s sensible to be hungry after a busy two days of job hunting after foiling the plans of evil godlings intent on destroying all possible Earths at the conclusion of a decades long experiment.”
I think I’m starting to rub off on you.
“That’s good right?”
I certainly think so.
Her stomach rumbled again. “I want to find a place to get food.”
Ah yes, consult the All Knowing Voice, bearer of the secret knowledge of where all undivinable locations lay, including the restaurant that’s fucking in front of you.
“That was what I had in mind.”
Jesus, stilts fixed your height problem, but that’s just about it. Look. In. Front. Of. You.
Fortuna looked up. How fortunate. There was a building across the street, and she could see through the windows lining the side of it that people were eating at tables inside.
Girl say whaaat?
She crossed over to it and, once inside, she noticed a table laden in unattended food. She curiously picked up the shiny food the voice had led her to and took a probing bite. The exterior of it was quite chewy and tough, but its insides were delicious enough that she pushed through it and made sure to eat everything.
A nearby man with a beer in his hand stared. “I think I’ve had too much.”
I honestly wish I could claim credit for that one, but that’s all you, dumbass.
Her belly sated for the moment, a new thought occurred to Fortuna. Her village had a chef—someone who was paid to make food for others—and the voice in her head could surely aid her in creating food. She could apply for a job here and make delicious food that wasn’t so tough on the outside!
“I want to get a job here.”
The man with the beer hesitantly spoke up, “I, uh, think I saw a sign that they’re hiring? You could ask the girl at the counter?”
Orrr we could do it the better way.
“The better way is certainly better.”
The man checked his beer again. “I need to stop drinking. That or you do.”
Roger dodger, let’s gooooo alreeeaaady!
Fortuna picked up a second burger from the unattended tray, turned around, and left the restaurant. She promptly turned left towards the convenience mart at the corner, picking up a discarded quarter on the ground along the way.
Congratulations on the 33% increase in your total wealth. Let’s celebrate by spending it all.
Once she arrived, she proceeded straight to the counter, slapped down the four quarters in her possession, and told the clerk, “One lottery ticket, please.”
Hm. I kinda wonder if that lady at the Wal-Mart bought that lottery ticket or not.
“Sure, whatever,” they remarked with a shrug before turning to grab one of the cheap, scratch tickets and handing it to her.
Winning all that money could really turn her life ar— Oh snap, scratch ‘n’ sniff!
Fortuna plucked one of the quarters off the counter with a quick, “One sec,” and scratched three of the squares before putting the ticket against her nose and inhaling deeply before handing it and the quarter to the now staring clerk.
The real mystery is whether he’s staring because you won without looking or because you looked ready to give that ticket cunnilingus for a second there.
“Sixty dollars and a bag, please.”
Probably wouldn’t taste very goo— Okay, bored now.
“Uh... We don’t... actually cash these here...” The clerk blinked then squinted at the ticket. “And you actually won two hundred dollars.”
Zzzzzzz...
“Yes, and if you give me sixty dollars and a bag right now, then I’ll give you the ticket.”
The clerk hesitated for a second longer before popping open the register. “Here, just get out of here, and we never met or nothin’.”
“I assure you we met. I was there for it.”
Fortuna took the money and bag, handed back a ten dollar bill, and proceeded to grab a bag of chips, a donut, peanut butter, and jelly. She left the nonplussed attendant behind and returned to the restaurant with her bag of items and the second burger. She marched up to the counter where a gangly teenage girl was taking someone’s order and ignored her half-hearted, “Uh, you can’t come back here?” in favor of entering the kitchen. A portly, red-faced man in a grease-spattered apron was manning the grill there, and when he turned to her with a bewildered look, she tossed the burger she had picked up earlier on the ground and flashed the money.
- M. G. You actually did it. God, what an idiot! Who the fuck flashes fifty fucking dollars?
“Me apparently.”
The man slowly flipped a burger on the griddle. “Uh. You .... apparently.”
Okay, I’m done fooling with you. It’s hard to top tricking you into flashing fifty bucks like some kid’s dream of what a high roller looks like. Time to lay down the gauntlet! Tell him...
“I can make a burger that tastes ten times better than this. I’ll give you this money if you let me make one right now and you taste it, but if you like it, you have to hire me.”
The portly man’s eyes flicked between her and the money for a moment before lingering on the bills. “So... You’ll give me—” he squinted “—fifty dollars either way?”
“Yes.”
“And all I have to do is try your burger.”
“And hire me if you like it.”
“Weirdest request for an interview ever, but shit lady, okay.”
Burger time! C’mon, grab your friends!
Fortuna immediately grabbed a free apron to protect her suit and set to work, letting the voice guide her on autopilot. She grabbed a half pound of ground beef, raided a nearby cabinet for spices and other items, and got to work mixing them all together.
“Uh, that’s—”
“You will have an opportunity to provide feedback after you have tasted the burger, thank you,” Fortuna remarked with perfect manners and not sounding distracted in the slightest even as she adjusted the griddle temperature, laid the insides of the bun face down on it, and set about preparing the ingredients from the convenience store, twisting off lids, gently crushing and opening the chips, and cutting the donut into two layers.
“What’re you—”
“You will have an opportunity to provide feedback after you have tasted the burger, thank you,” Fortuna replied once more as she retrieved the bun from the griddle and set the patty in its place.
Shortly after, she flipped the patty with a spatula and moved it elsewhere on the griddle before setting down one of the donut layers in the grease left behind. She then dressed the inside of the bottom bun’s lightly toasted inside with peanut butter and jelly before sprinkling the cracked remnants of chips over it.
“No really, wh—”
“You will have an opportunity to provide feedback after you have tasted the burger, thank you,” Fortuna responded with perfect patience as she retrieved the donut layer and settled it over the chips before deftly flipping the patty up towards the ceiling. With the meat still airborne, she grabbed the top of the bun and moved the bottom portion of the burger onto a plate. The patty landed perfectly atop the toasted piece of donut just a second before she moved the top bun into place, and she held the plate out to the portly man with an expectant look on her face.
“You may now taste the burger and provide feedback.”
Oh snap, we need a sick ass name to call this thing when we’re serving it to people after you get the job.
The man stared at her for a moment. His eyes shifted to the burger, where he stared for a bit longer. Finally his eyes returned to her, and as before, he stared. Eventually he tentatively reached out to grasp the plate, seeming almost afraid it might bite him rather than the other way around, and he grasped the burger with his other hand, bringing it to his mouth.
He took a bite, chewed, and swallowed.
He took another bite, chewed, and swallowed.
If the voice in her head hadn’t been directing her body and its expressions, she might have been alarmed when he began to weep and shake her hand.
“Welcome to Fugly Bob’s! When can you start?!”
Mission complete!