The Graveyard Shift: A Horror Comedy (24/7 Demon Mart Book 1)

by D. M. Guay

  “Peel it off you, new guy!” DeeDee yelled over the swirrrrr of the sucking vortex. “You sure as hell don't wanna go in there with it.”

  I punched it in the nose again, but it held tight. I felt around for anything even vaguely resembling a weapon, but the area around the welcome mat was pretty sparse. The snake squeezed tighter. Think! Think! Wait a minute. I sunk my hand into my pocket and emerged with a single pack of Taco Bell Diablo sauce. (Guess these pants weren't clean after all.) The fat, smug snake dude looked at me. I bit the corner off the pack, aimed, and squirted the sauce right into its two remaining eyes right as it moved to sink its fangs into my bicep. Ha! Direct hit. Smoke rose from its eyes. It screeched. It let go of me and immediately was sucked, hissing and smoking, right into the yellow cloud anus swirling inside DeeDee's Michael Bolton CD case.

  DeeDee snapped the case shut the second snake guy was all the way in. The CD shook in her hands as if something was trying to punch its way out. But she held it tight, said those weird words again. “Sarpa vallaka usetee dah-tee.”

  The CD went still. She took a few deep breaths and opened the case. Black tray. Little teeth. No swirling cloud. Plain old jewel case. “Thank God,” she said. “Now we can turn off that horrible music.”

  “What the fuck was that thing?” I was not proud of the high-pitched squeal that came out of my mouth.

  “Great. Let me guess.” DeeDee dug her fists into her curvalicious hips. “You didn't read your employee manual, did you?”

  Chapter 4

  Okay, so I'll be the first to admit I totally lost it as soon as the adrenaline wore off. As in, crawled behind the counter, curled up in a ball by the register, and tried to hide from the world while I told myself Calm down. It's okay. No, no. This is fine. It's all fine. It's cool. Really. You've got this. You're not crazy. There's a reasonable explanation. There has to be. It's all good. Breathe. Breathe. Don't cry. Don't CRY! On a loop, over and over, hoping I'd eventually believe it. That level of lost it.

  I heard DeeDee shuffling around the store, turning off the Michael Bolton and flipping on the premixed Muzak selection. She whistled while she did it like nothing was wrong and she hadn't just sucked a dude made of snakes into a CD case. Now that I was listening closely, the Muzak sounded kinda like medieval chanting to a dance beat. Of course, it did. This place was insane.

  I had no idea how DeeDee could be so cazh about this. I was freaking out. Who was I kidding? There was no use trying to talk myself out of my real feelings, which were more along the lines of What. The. Fuck. Tentacle dude. Snake dude. It wasn't Big Dan's weed, was it? This shit's real!

  I had a dozen peach pits of ice-cold dread roiling around in my stomach. That was probably a normal feeling at the moment you realized the fabric that wrapped you up in a neat, tidy, totally makes rational sense reality had started to unravel. Because there was a dude made of snakes tugging at the seams. I hugged my knees tighter as if that would stop me from losing any more thread.

  DeeDee stomped behind the counter, grabbed the collar of my T-shirt with two hands and yanked me up. “So what exactly did you think 'portal agent, Transmundane Gate Twenty Three, upholder of celestial order' meant when you signed the paper? Did you honestly think you were getting paid, what, eight times the minimum wage to stock beer and Fritos?”

  Uh yeah, I did actually. And to eat free tuna melts. That made way more sense out here in the real world. But I didn't dare say that, because I could tell she didn't want to hear it. I was emotionally retarded, but not that emotionally retarded, so I just blank stared at her, and blinked a few times like a clueless dumbass. That was the smart move, trust me.

  “I thought your eyes were wide open about this gig after Bisozoth.” She tightened her grip on my shirt.

  Man, she was beautiful. And strong. This bossy thing was working for me, too. Oh, wait. What did she say? I didn't remember, so I shrugged.

  “Great. Just great.” She shook her head. “All right. Listen up, new guy. Here's the deal. I do not have time for bullshit. I need a partner, do you understand? A real, equal partner, not another coward who's gonna turn tail and run away as soon as it gets scary. I will not waste my time training you if...”

  She kept talking, but I didn't actually hear what she said. Her voice sounded a lot like how a list with bullet points would look on paper. All I saw were dark red lips moving. The sharp rise of her chest with every breath. The pillowy flesh beneath her Bauhaus T-shirt. OhmiGod she smelled like flowers. Not like old grandma potpourri either, like something exotic and tropical. Oh, my God. DeeDee, I love you!

  So naturally, I did what every man does around a hot woman he wants to date. I just nodded and agreed with everything she said. I mean, let's be real here. I'd say yes to anything if it meant I had a shot with her. I'd stand on hot coals for an hour for a ten-second peek at her panties.

  “So what's it gonna be, new guy?” She stared me down with piercing gray eyes lined in flawless, coal-black liner.

  And...Busted. I had no idea what DeeDee was asking me. I searched her face for clues, but she was stone cold, intense. At that moment, the heat in my groin rose at the thought of being close to her and drowned out all rational thought. Anything. Anything for DeeDee. Just say yes. Anything she wants, you give it to her.

  “Well? Are you in, or are you out?” She gripped my shirt tighter.

  “I'm...in?”

  “You don't sound sure. I don't have time for half-ass,” she said. “I'll ask you one more time. Think carefully about your answer. Are you in? Or are you out?”

  “I'm in. I'm in!”

  “Okay then.” She let go of my shirt and gently patted down the extra wrinkles she'd left on either side of my neck.

  Crap. I hoped I hadn't agreed to something too crazy, like disposing of a body. Man. While I was trying to figure out what I'd said yes to, DeeDee was ruffling around under the counter. She emerged with a couple of brown paper napkins. “Here. For the mustard. Or your dripping cry snot. Your choice.”

  Cry snot? I touched my nose. Yep. Boogers. When I was rolled up behind the counter, hiding, I must have sniffled a little more on the outside than I'd realized. Way to go, Lloyd. I'm sure she's hot for you now that you're drenched head-to-toe in boogers and condiments. But hey, I could only go up from here, right?

  I took the darned napkins, wiped my nose, then went to work on the pool of mustard on my T-shirt. My hands shook so much it was hard to do the wiping.

  “So...let me guess.” DeeDee crossed her arms and watched me. “You didn't realize what this job actually was before saying yes. You really did think you'd be stocking beer and refilling the slushies.”

  I nodded.

  “Did you watch the orientation video?”

  I nodded yes while thinking nope.

  “You're lying.”

  I tried to look innocent, offended.

  “If you'd watched it, then snake guy wouldn't have surprised you. So, you didn't watch it, did you?”

  “No. I fell asleep.” I couldn't get anything past this chick. Why try? “Sorry.”

  “Well, at least you're honest. Mostly.” She rolled her eyes. “And, I've got to give you props. You helped me send Snakes and Bisozoth back. You're two for two.”

  “Bizo-who?”

  “The green guy with one eye and tentacles?”

  Ew. It had a name.

  “That tells me you have at least a bit of natural talent, and despite screaming like a tween girl at a Taylor Swift concert, you did the job. Improvised a bit with the tools, but good instincts.”

  She looked me up and down. Between DeeDee and Junebug, I was getting used to being judged by my looks. “You're gonna have to lose this.” She patted my gut. “The fitter you are, the easier the job can be. You don't look like much, but if Faust says you're worthy, you must have it where it counts.” She shrugged.

  My cheeks flushed red. Great. Snot. Mustard stains. A “you're fat” belly pat, and a “you don't look like much?” I had zero chance
with this girl. I'd be lucky to even land in the friend zone.

  “Anyway, I need a good partner. Someone who'll stick around,” she said. “And someone who can convince Kevin to play something other than Dio.”

  “Who's Kevin?”

  “The night manager. He's around here somewhere.” She looked down and around at the floor, like she was afraid to step on something. “Oh well. You've already met Kevin.”

  “Um, I don't think so?” I ticked off the people in my brain. Impossibly Handsome. Junebug, Ricky, and Chef. That was it, so far.

  “Anyway. I need to count on you, okay?” DeeDee said. “Are we on the same page?”

  I nodded. Yes, yes we are. Whatever page you're on is the one I want to be on. Even though she was a ten who reminded me I was a two.

  “Good, then I'll make you a deal. I'll go easy on you tonight. You can work the register, stay behind the counter, settle in. Familiarize yourself with the tools back here. Look, but don't touch, okay? Not until you read the instructions,” she said. “I'll handle the gate traffic. In exchange, you have to promise me you'll read your employee manual, stat. Deal?”

  She held out her pinkie, like a tween making a life promise. I looped mine through hers. “Deal,” I said. But...what did she mean gate traffic?

  “Great. Now get to work.” She smiled and strode back to the wooden stool by the beer cave, where I'd seen her sit every night I'd ever come in for a slushy.

  At some point, while I watched her delicious curves (and stellar personality, I'm not a total pig) walk away, a tall haggard guy with a silver mullet—balding on the top, but partying all the way down his back in thinning 80s hair metal waves—had walked in. He stood at the counter holding a giant pink box.

  “Um...can I help you?” I asked.

  “Wow. Another new kid, huh DeeDee?” He called over his shoulder. “Here we go again.”

  “Go easy on him,” she called back.

  “I'm Bob, the doughnut guy. Here.”

  He handed me the pink box. It had “Dolly's Divine Delicacies” written in gold leaf across the top. Row after row of fresh, glazed, frosted, sprinkled doughnut heaven stared back at me from behind the plastic window. No. They didn't stare. They called to me, whispering my name in seductive breaths, like a box of doughy sirens. Yum. Mee.

  “Hey. You,” Bob the Doughnut Guy snapped. “Don't even think about eating these. Store policy, remember? Paying customers only.”

  “Yeah. Sure. Of course. Duh,” I said, but what I really meant was I'm totally going to eat one of these things the second none of you are watching. How could I not? Totes Delicious.

  Bob the Doughnut Guy saw right through me. He grabbed the box out of my hand. “You know what? Why don't I take care of these?” He plastered on a big, fake smile. “Since you're new, I'll show you how it's done.”

  He carried the box around the back of the counter, flipped the doughnut display case open and took out last night's empty trays. The trays were empty, sold out, except for an untouched row of glazed ones with pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles. They were untouched and flawless. He set the trays aside. He opened the pink box, lifted a fresh, full tray of doughnuts out of it and slid it into the case. Then he lifted another tray out of the box.

  Wait. Was that thing like a clown car? The box was at most six inches tall, deep enough for one tray of doughnuts. But apparently not. Bob the Doughnut Guy pulled tray after tray right out of that box. Five in all, enough to fill the case with fresh fried and frosted deliciousness. He closed the display and was about to slap the pink box shut when he said, “Almost forgot. You guys have a special order tonight. Doc must be cooking up something big if he needs this bad boy.”

  He lifted a small pink box out of the bigger pink box and laid it on the counter. It contained a single doughnut, another glazed with pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles. Lloyd, eat me and all your dreams will come true. Come on, I AM totes delicious, it whispered. I reached for it.

  Bob the Doughnut Guy smacked my hand away. “Never the pink ones, you understand? Never. Emergency's only! Besides, this is a special custom order. Extra potent. Not for you,” he said. “Doc gets real crabby if he doesn't get his doughnut, and I wouldn't cross him if I were you.”

  “Okay! Okay!” I put my hands up and stepped back, but it was a ruse. I totally wanted to eat that doughnut. It looked even more delectable than the others. Just the smell of it made me feel...high?

  “DeeDee, honey, keep an eye on this one.” Bob the Doughnut Guy jabbed a thumb at me. “He's a little too interested in the doughnuts, ya feel me? And by the looks of him, he's got a taste for sweets.”

  “Will do,” DeeDee said. “Hands off the doughnuts, new guy. Touch one, and I break your face.”

  Well, she certainly didn't mince words, did she?

  Bob the Doughnut Guy put his giant hand on my shoulder. I hadn't realized he was that much taller than me until he was up close. He loomed over me. He was easily six-four, and was probably buff once, but he was now in his late fifties, and his long body had a big bubble belly right in the middle. He had the rough veneer of a lifelong working-class man who'd gone a bit grizzly because he'd seen some shit. “Good luck, son. You're gonna need it,” he said. “Okay, then. Gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow night if you last that long.”

  With that, he waltzed right out the front door, taking the empty pink box with him. He peeled out of the parking lot in a pink truck with Dolly's Divine Delicacies written in gold sparkling letters across the side. Okay, then. Weird guy, but at least he wasn't a snake and didn't have tentacles, so that was good.

  That's when I noticed a man jogging across the parking lot. At two in the morning. Wow. That was dedication. You really had to be into fitness to keep those kinds of hours. He ran right up and into the front door. DeeDee took one look at him, rolled her eyes, and went back to fingernail picking.

  He had a lean, muscular body, an expensive tracksuit, and a slightly panicked look on his face. “Are they here? The doughnuts?” His voice was shaking. “Are they? Tell me, please.”

  “Um...yes?”

  “Are they fresh? They have to be fresh,” he said.

  “Yeah.” I got the distinct impression it was no accident he'd arrived right as the Dolly's truck was leaving. “Just delivered.”

  He sighed, relieved. “Oh, thank God. I need one. NOW!”

  He jogged up to the counter, slid a waxed paper bag out of the holder clipped to the side of the doughnut case and carefully tonged a devil's food cake doughnut with chocolate icing into it. It took him a while to decide which of the chocolate ones to take. I heard him whispering, debating the value and quality of each one, even though they all looked identical to me. When he'd finished, he threw a crumpled five-dollar bill onto the counter and ran out the door.

  “Don't you want your change?” I called after him, but he was out the door in a split second, sprinting across the parking lot faster than a man being chased by a lion. He stopped underneath the neon sign, ripped open the bag, and dug into that doughnut like a zombie eating a fresh brain. He held it with both hands, like a squirrel with a nut, and munched that doughnut down to crumbs in less than a minute. Then he ran across the road, past Sinbad's and off into the pitch-black night. The waxed baggie did somersaults in the parking lot, kicked up by the wind. “Dude!” I said. “Litter! Seriously?”

  I put his crumpled up money in the register, and I won't lie. I glanced at those doughnuts at least a thousand times over the course of the next hour or so, thinking about that jogger. The expression on his face, dripping with need at the sight of them and euphoria as he ate them. Either these were the best damned doughnuts on the planet, or he had a serious sugar addiction. But I didn't eat one even though I really, really really, wanted to. Maybe in part because of the way that guy reacted to them, with crazed intensity.

  It was hard, but I kept my hands off the sweets and did what DeeDee told me to: I settled in behind the counter. I'd say it wasn't so bad, but it kind of was
. The stuff back here that DeeDee wanted me to “familiarize” myself with was a little odd.

  There was a collection of crystals, gemstones and rocks. It looked like they'd been labeled at one point, but the ink had faded off all of the stickers. There was a very old, large black leather-bound book on a wooden stand. There was a whole shelf of jars filled with different flowers, leaves, and sticks. The names on the labels didn't mean anything to me—verbena, Five flavored Tea of F—like I knew what any of that was. There was some sort of taser, a fat purple gourd covered with dust, and a long trumpet thing with no buttons to press to make notes. Okay then. It was all tucked in back there, next to the extra cartons of cheap cigarettes, like it was standard corner-store stock.

  The stuff behind the counter was super weird, no doubt about it, but there was one big thing that was more disturbing. It was subtle, so it took me a while to figure it out, but here it is: Apart from Bob the Doughnut Guy and the jogger, no one actually came into the store. That wouldn't be weird on its own, because this part of the burbs is ugly, run down, and doesn't have any chain stores. Suburb-dwelling Ohioans love chain stores, so this street wouldn't be much of a draw.

  It was only weird because a lot of people were leaving the store. Dozens and dozens of people. A steady stream of perfectly ordinary-looking men and women came out of the beer cave. Each one stopped to talk to DeeDee and to show her something. I didn't know what. I didn't have a clear view from here. Then, every single one of them walked right out the front door. With no beer. No snacks. No nothing. Long story short: People came out of the beer cave, even though nobody ever went in.

  Two cars did pull into the lot, though. But, both times, the drivers sat in their cars for a few minutes, then left without so much as stepping a single foot on the pavement. It's like there was an aura around this place that drove people away.

  One truck did come into the lot and stay, though. The beer truck. The driver looked into the store nervously, then made the sign of the cross before he hopped out and ran to the back of the truck. I'd never seen anyone load a dolly as fast as that guy. He looked like he was competing for the world championship title for Fastest Beer Delivery. He stacked that dolly with cases and forties and had it wheeled through the front door in under five minutes Then he just left it all on the floor mat by the slushy station and split. Seriously. He dropped that dolly like it was hot, then ran like Usain Bolt back to his truck. He didn't ask me to check anything or sign anything. He just kicked it into gear and sped out of there so fast the tires actually squealed.