Chapter Text
This is a first for me. Working in customer service, that is. Although, I would argue that working in the average corporate hellhole is a similar experience. Insane work patterns, people who earn way more than you making ridiculous last minute requests, and a back that never stops hurting, amongst many other things.
I remember that I was eating with J3, blacked out (randomly, might I add) and now we’re both here. In this donut shop. In the middle of nowhere. Unfortunately, I have never heard of this darkness before, and by some disgrace of God I cannot find my phone anywhere. At least J3 is here, not that this situation would be hugely different without him, but at least I can find some small comfort in the grey haired man.
The first customer of the day is coming through.
The lady seems… normal. For now.
“Hi there! Could I have a bear trap please?”
Excuse me? Bear trap?
I pray that the lady simply misspoke and ask her to repeat what she said, but to no avail.
She repeats herself, sounding mildly frustrated, “? One bear trap please?”
I feel sweat beginning to form at my nape and pour down my neck. I let out a nervous half-hearted chuckle. Surely, she’s not being serious right now? I can tell she’s growing impatient with my lack of response, tapping a foot in a steady rhythm with her arms crossed whilst staring at me expectantly.
Trying to put on a brave face, I muster up the courage to utter out, “Let me go check in the back for that, I’ll be back in a second.” I try to smile at her but can’t tell how it looks on my face. I can only hope it doesn’t look strange or off-putting.
[Oh, my friend, those sweet treats are a hit among my viewers.]
‘Have any idea what they’d look like?’
[This host is always willing to help out a friend!]
[They should look like little bear paws, soft as this doll body.]
As (somewhat) expected, my search attempt is futile. I can only find normal, donut shop ingredients. With a heavy heart and a sigh, I leave the storage room. I decide to try a new approach. I scan the many shelves of donuts for some sort of clue with an abnormal amount of hope in my heart. Bear paw in a bear trap? What would that even look like in donut form?
My eyes land on a group of flaky pastries garnished with almonds. In a way, they are paw-like – if you squint. I point to them, silently wishing for approval from the woman. Surprisingly, she snaps her fingers excitedly, any signs of annoyance completely wiped from her face, “Yes, exactly!”
[Viewers who intentionally make broadcasting difficult is a hit or miss, Friend. But I’m always on the side of getting the best ratings!]
I am a little bewildered at this exchange and also ashamed at how literally I took the woman’s request. While I remain in my mildly shell-shocked state, J3 rings her up and gives her the bear claw. Still reeling with embarrassment from that interaction, J3 says, “It was... a strange way... of asking for it...”
I nod and acknowledge this with a “yes” that dries up my throat. I brace myself for the next customer.
“Hello, can I get a box of ball bearings?” The new man pauses before adding, “Could I also get a helmet?”
Now moderately familiar with this strange ordering system, I scan the shelves again and point to some iced donuts with sprinkles on them, “These ones?”
The man gawks at me as if I’ve grown a second head, “I said I wanted ball bearings,” he says, the irritation in his voice clearly audible.
Scrambling to form a coherent thought, I point to some donuts with nonpareils.
With a strange amount of indignation in his voice he says, “What part of the words ‘ball bearing’ or ‘helmet’ do you not comprehend?” The man has grown a second head.
I try not to keel over at this sudden sight and gingerly point to donuts with sugar pearls.
“Now how hard was that?” The man’s second head deflates slightly as he grins at me, “Remember the helmet!”
[These customers use tactics that wouldn’t fly in my show… tricks aren’t always fun and games!]
[Friend, his confused ramblings are referring to those wonderful crème brûlée donuts sitting on that shelf. I suggest you get to them before that security guard eats them all.]
With a strained smile, I select a crème brûlée donut with the man’s approval, squeezing around J3 and his sneaky hand. I pack them up and let him pay. The man’s second head deflates into the crook of his neck as he waves back to me and walks out of the shop. I almost fall to my knees in relief.
[Oh, it looks like that customer dropped something, Friend.]
I peek over the counter and spot a napkin with pen scribbles all over it. I walk around the counter and pick it up.
Various names of donuts were written hastily, crossed out, or circled with madness. I opened up the napkin, following the man’s arrows to a different name until it stopped on the backside, the arrow pointing to ‘crème brûlée and sugar pearls’ in a corner.
It didn’t seem too important though, so I walked over to the bin and dropped it in.
Clink
? What is that?
[Kim Soleum picked up a key!]
A gold-colored key sat hidden away underneath the garbage bin, clumps of dust and hair piled onto it.
The key was the size of my palm, the bow dirtied with rust.
There aren't many doors in this place, as far I know. Even fewer that are locked, for some reason. It doesn't take it long to find the singular locked door.
The key to the staff room slides into the keyhole with ease despite its rusted state. The soft click of the lock turning is almost inaudible, and the door opens with dust dispersing from the breeze that enters.
Is that..?
A faint metallic scent is concentrated in just one corner of the room. Following the smell, I made my way to the only table that sat in the empty staff room. There was only one chair.
The spot that the chair was pushed into was caked in dried blood. The blue light from one of the computer monitors gave off just barely enough light for me to see it properly. I gingerly touch the back of the chair and pull it out. On the seat was a finger.
[Oh my show business! Friend, it seems like the previous worker hasn’t done quite a good job of cleaning up.]
That was the least of my concerns.
How much blood was this…? It seemed too much for the average human body to realistically produce.
[This is certainly a waste of blood, that’s true, Friend. This much blood could supply the bathtub thrice over! Hahaha!]
Sidestepping the mess, I jab at the power button on the computer tower, but nothing changes. The other monitor doesn’t turn on either. I took the computer mouse to try and wake it up instead. I had no high hopes but…
Whirrrrrrr…
The fan starts.
I almost absentmindedly put my hand in the pile of dried blood but quickly caught myself. I didn’t want to walk out of here with that smell on me.
As the graphics load, there’s a rustling outside of the room. I pause, trying to listen for any sound of the shop bell ringing or J3, but nothing else happens. Turning back to the screen, only two windows opened. It was a general staffing list and a notepad.
The general staffing list had an announcement board pulled up.
ATTENTION ALL EMPLOYEES:
With the sudden developments of ◼️◼️◼️, we ask for your cooperation as we continue to discuss about the future of this store. It is highly likely we will ◼️◼️◼️ but we will make an effort to ensure that this doesn’t happen to the people that have stayed with us through these times.
ATTENTION ALL EMPLOYEES:
In our ingestions investigations, we have discovered bodies numerous ATTENTION ALL we cannot overstate how ATTENTION ALL EMPLOYEES we must ATTENTION I cannot believe how much you ALL in our investigations, there have been no more Come to work Come to work Come to work
You must come. You must come. This is the will of You must come. You must.
ATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTIONATTENTION
…
Thank you for your work for all these years.
The announcement ends at that.
Two other tabs were available. I click on the employee list.
There were ten people before me, and three of them were Daydream employees. The last person looked to be a regular citizen that got dragged into this darkness.
The employee log was bare, and most were greyed out. Double-clicking or highlighting didn’t give me any options to work around it. The previous employee only had one thing:
- It’s consuming me. Get it out.
[My goodness, Friend, I suppose the overwhelming amounts of baked sugary goods were too much for this fellow.]
The notepad wasn’t much better.
‘They won’t let me log. It keeps locking me out. I can’t read the notes anymore.
11:25 - On my break. I managed to find an opening in one of the announcements. They haven’t locked that out yet. It won’t let me screenshot or copy the text.
TO ALL EMPLOYEES: We are saddened to hear the news of ◼️◼️◼️’s passing. In two months, it would have been the store’s fifteen years with ◼️◼️◼️ and we are truly sor ry for the family that ha sdeicatd their life for thi store. in commenoratio we will
19:30 - Sign out.
I couldn’t get all of it.’
I couldn’t find the article that the previous employee was copying from in the announcement board. It must’ve been from years ago. The only announcements were the one I had already read and a congratulations post welcoming a new employee.
‘The death of the donut shop’s owner caused this…?’
[Friend, sometimes when faced with death, people do, say, and see unthinkable things.]
[It’s not uncommon. Your good friend here has seen it so often that viewers have said to me it could be its own segment on my talk show! Hahaha!]
[Though, I don’t take it into consideration. My broadcasting views would plummet if such boring ideas were to take root.]
Even so, there usually wasn’t this much obsession over just a death.
On the wall, there were newspaper and magazine clippings of the donut shop. I flick at the edge of one clipping. The glue holding it together was degrading, the paper itself yellowing, and underneath it even more papers and hastily written scrawls.
!
I flinched and pulled my hand back as I felt the crust of more blood that stuck to some of the clippings. It crumbled off with the sudden movement.
I peeled the papers to reveal what lay under. Thick black ink spelled out: ‘IT WAS HER IDEA.’
It was underlined with strong strokes, another line detaching from it, an arrow, that led to another article. An obituary was pinned up.
- ‘It was her idea.’
The beloved donut shop owner, 42 year old ◼️◼️◼️, tragically passed away on ◼️◼️◼️ surrounded by family and loved ones. ◼️◼️◼️ leaves behind two children and spouse and co-owner of the local donut shop. Family and friends remember ◼️◼️◼️ to be kind, forgiving
Did you forget what she did?
“You… have a customer waiting…”
I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of J3’s voice. I spin around to see the silver-haired man poking his head through the staff room door, yellow light shining through the small gap.
“Oh, yeah, coming. Thanks, Mr. Jay.”
He tips his head and retreats back out. I glance over at the wall behind me, the monitor still on, the fan still running. I press the power button.
I walk out of the staff room and back to the counter as I fix up my apron.
Now having tons of experience that would enable me to deal with any of these customers’ strangely worded riddles, I put on a normal customer service face and greet the new customer.
“hicanibuyeightgramsofamberandthreepeeledmapletreesplease?” They mutter quickly with their head bowed, like they never wanted me to hear them.
“Erm… could you say that again?” I ask, not quite making eye contact with them.
“I said hicanibuyeightgramsofamberandthreepeeledmapletreesplease?” They say with a more pointed tone.
[Such disregard for respect towards a host… this won’t do at all, Friend!]
[Enunciation is important: speak from your chest and your head held high! Open your throat and let your words take off!]
Slither.
Slither. Slither.
Something’s coming towards me. I stare directly at the figure standing across from me, their head still bowed, and the slithering noises cease.
I turn away from the counter to debate (with myself) about what this person is saying, I can’t just point to everything in the display case and pray that nothing bad will happen. I could ask them again but there’s no way to know what might happen if I do.
And then it starts again.
Slither. Slither. Slither.
Turning around again stops the slithering… again.
But before the noise stops, I catch a glimpse of something snake-like in the corner of my eye – hovering over my side of the counter.
The… snakes… oscillate between two types of donut: apple fritter and maple bar.
[Ah, Friend, this is good sportsmanship from the viewers to the host. A good deed goes a long way!]
With Braun’s deduction and the snake’s friendly nature, I pack up the creature’s apple fritters and maple bars and bid it goodbye. It gurgles in acknowledgement.
As it leaves, squiggly appendages erupt from underneath its hood, allowing it to emit a low rumbling sound I can only hope is of excessive glee. I sigh when the door closes, somewhat reassured by the small respite between customers.
A bell rings, snapping me out of my stupor, a cheerful and childish melody that feels out of place considering our hectic morning rush. I finally get the chance to look at J3 properly for the first time in several hours. He only slightly flinched when the music began but regained his composure quick enough where (I think) most people wouldn’t have noticed that he flinched at all.
A shrill and grating voice announces that it’s time for lunch, which lasts for 15 minutes. I want to laugh at how ridiculously short that is.
I intensely observe the glass door, waiting for any straggling customers to suddenly appear, but no one else shows.
“Mr. Jay, mind coming with me for a moment?”
The security guard turned his head at the call of his name. “Where to…?”
When we entered the staff room again, something immediately felt off. The computer was still shut down, the blood hadn’t changed, the air still smelled of dust and metal.
A door that wasn’t there earlier.
[Magic shows sometimes appear on Tuesday Quiz Show, as well, Friend! They’re a hit among viewers, but not as much as your friend, Braun, is!]
It was a standard steel door, the round knob appearing out of place with the rest of the doors in this donut shop. I twist the handle, but as expected, it’s locked.
[Oh my show business, how many keys does one donut shop need?]
Though this door had no key holes. No key hole, no key needed. Maybe it was just jammed in some way? It wouldn’t make things any better if something had blocked the other side. Or... perhaps someone else was on the other side?
I lightly rapped my knuckle on the door.
Twang-twang-twang.
I reach for the door knob again, rattling it lightly.
Click.
I braced myself in the event that whoever unlocked the door came out to attack, but…
No one was there.
Another bare room, another table, and another computer. A dirty mattress and broken glass bottles sat in the corner next to a tipped office chair.
As if someone had tried to run.
J3 shuffles in from behind me, his gaze moving slowly from the left… then to the right side of the room.
“It smells... of burning leather...,” J3 mumbles, his sniffles coming out in short puffs of air. We advanced into the room, I dragged a box from the staff room and prop the door open.
The drooping cobwebs hanging from the ceiling doesn’t help with the atmosphere. I approach the table, loose medical papers and more article scraps scattered across it. Few looked to be copies of some journal entries, notes in red and blue ink vandalising each sheet in detail.
“‘Local donut shop hiring after loss of several employees’...?”
[It looks like this store had its string of bad luck, Friend.]
I’m about to examine some of the papers in closer detail when the same alarm sounds again, warning us that we only have half of our lunch break left. It also mentions, very briefly, that there will be consequences for missing lunch.
“What a morning…” I groan and sigh for what feels like the umpteenth time today. “Guess we should have lunch, huh.”
“Indeed...”
The staff lunchroom is small, one could even describe it as cozy. It’s equipped with a kitchenette as well as a well worn (but clearly loved) sofa and armchair set and a cheap looking coffee table marred with many coffee rings. I open the fridge in the corner of the room and we peer inside. There’s nothing extravagant inside, just sandwiches (and only sandwiches) — which could mean nothing, of course.
After grabbing our company-mandated sandwiches, we both take a seat on the sofa. Eating and engaging in conversation that somehow manages to take my mind off this almost absurd situation.
The bell interrupts what I was about to say, “Time to head back, I guess.”
We take our positions at the counter again.
The rest of the day continues in a similar fashion, with not much coming out of the blue and being less perturbed than I was in the morning. Regardless of this fact, I am still drained by the end of the day and collapse into a chair after the last customer leaves. J3 takes a seat next to me, clearly exhausted too. I barely got to talk to him. Apart from our miserably short lunch break.
We don’t say anything for a few moments. Several, actually.
Through the window I see the sun set over the lush green fields outside the shop. Pink, orange and yellow tones of dusk blend with the vast ocean of emerald grass, creating a darker burnt sienna colour — coffee coloured, really. The gaudy, outdated interior of the shop engenders a stark contrast with the serene surroundings. Like it’s begging for customer nostalgia to keep circulating in its veins.
The silence between us is thick, but not uncomfortable.