Character: Mechanical OC, Dean Winchester
Word Count: 630
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own them
I hate my life.
No seriously, of all the cool things my components could have been made into; you know, a battleship, a space shuttle, a satellite; and I had to end up as this. A freakin- self-service machine in the grottiest suburban multimart you’ve ever seen.
Sheesh, I could have been floating in geosychronous orbit around the earth, furthering the knowledge of mankind, or hurtling through the solar system taking photos of Jupiter. Instead here I am, weighing goddamn carrots.
Sometimes I break down just for the hell of it, just to relieve the monotony of the day, but the other machines don’t like that – says it gives them a bad name – so most of the time I just sit here making the most of whatever little victories I can eke out of my pointless existence.
Oh, and here comes my next customer. Jeez, would you look at that swagger; this one looks like an arrogant dick. I’m gonna have some fun with this one …
Okay, here we go:
One jar of revoltingly cheap Guatemalan coffee. BEEP
One stick of douchebag scented underarm deodorant. BEEP
One pre-packaged slice of monosodium glutamate pie. BEEP
One six-pack of cheap and nasty gnats piss, otherwise known as beer. BEEP
Two ten kilo bags of rock salt; asking for a heart attack this one. BEEP
One bottle of ‘stud’ shower gel, the shower gel for assholes, sorry, men. BEEP
Two packs of … oh, yeah! This is wonderful … a gift!
Two packs of ultra-safe ribbed condoms, latex-free, extra large. Yeah, right, don’t kid yourself pretty-boy. ASSISTANCE REQUIRED.
Oh yeah, if I had a fist I’d pump it; he’s squirming. Ladies and gentlemen, we have squirming.
Of course, I only did it because Daphne’s on duty. Middle-aged, matronly, church-going Daphne, and she’s giving him that withering look of disapproval. Oh yes, my day is complete; suddenly he’s four inches high.
Now we’re getting the “the machine’s got a problem with ‘my brother’s’ condoms” explanation from him. Hah, she doesn’t believe that crap any more than I do.
Nope, I’m not going to show her the price because that means …
That’s right Daphne, do it; you take that PA system and …
“PRICE CHECK AT TILL 4. ULTRA-SAFE RIBBED CONDOMS, LATEX FREE, EXTRA LARGE . PRICE CHECK AT TILL 4.
Heh heh, you should see this stink eye he’s giving me. But it’s nowhere near as good as the look every other customer in the store is giving him. I can feel the heat radiating off his ears from here. In fact, it might even give me a valid excuse for breaking down again.
Ah, right, she’s got the price; she’s punching it in, so I think I’m just gonna flag up …
“Sir, these are on a three for two offer, I can get you another pack.”
He’s shaking his head, but Daphne, bless her, she’s on a roll with that PA system.
ONE PACK ULTRA-SAFE RIBBED CONDOMS, LATEX FREE, EXTRA LARGE, TO TILL 4 PLEASE.
I’ve never seen a grown man cry before. This could be a first.
The line behind us is getting longer and longer and more and more impatient; oh my throbbing diodes, this is good.
The runner’s handed over the third pack to Daphne and … what’s that? They’ve only got size small left in stock.
Okay, so he snatched them up and ran off with his shopping. Yeah, just as I thought; see ya later dinky winky.
Pity he didn’t pay for his goods before he ran, still, the store detective’s gone after him. So I guess that’s my excitement for the day over.
Oh look, here’s old Mrs Meeks with her carrots … sigh, time to break down I think.