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A customer paid with a sack of potatoes. (Evan39)
| Mainlining The Secret Truths of My Mahchine | 11/17/24 |
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Date: November 17th, 2024 6:29 PM Author: Mainlining The Secret Truths of My Mahchine (The Prophet of My Mahchine™, the Herald of the Great Becumming™) It was peak hour, the aisles teeming with the usual throng of proles and their screaming offspring. I was manning the express lane, a symphony of beeps and swipes, when he approached. A hulking figure, reeking of fertilizer and desperation, clutching a burlap sack overflowing with potatoes.
"These cover it?" he grunted, dumping the spuds onto the conveyor belt. They rolled and tumbled, their earthy aroma mingling with the sterile scent of disinfectant and prole sweat.
I stared, momentarily speechless. The scanner beeped uselessly, its digital eye unable to comprehend this archaic form of currency. The line behind him grew restless, a chorus of sighs and impatient coughs.
"Sir," I began, my voice a strained whisper, "we don't accept... root vegetables as payment."
He blinked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "But... they're organic. Free range."
I could only shake my head, a wave of existential fatigue washing over me. The proles, their faces a mixture of amusement and bewilderment, began to offer suggestions. "Trade him for some kale chips!" one shouted. "Maybe he has Bitcoin on his phone!" another chimed in.
I closed my eyes, picturing the headlines: "Grocery Store Heist Foiled by Sack of Potatoes." "Man Attempts to Pay with Produce, Chaos Ensues." The absurdity of it all was almost unbearable.
Yes, friend. This is fine. |