FTVS: Things from Another Planet
My hotel room got broken into last night when I was asleep. That's unacceptable. I was robbed in my own home. AND, I could have been murdered in my sleep to boot! Faith would have woken me up for my first day of work only to discover that I was totally dead. MURDERED. A bright light, a bright shining light -- extinguished too soon. How awful, really. My Calle de Redempcione, with a huge Grand Prix oilslick smack dab in the middle of it. Yeah, Faith'd wake me up in the morning, and... Technically, I guess that means I wouldn't have been woken up, but you know what I'm trying to say here.
Anyway. Some creature went rifiling through my things. Rifiling! My things were visibly rifled. They took a $5 bill and candy. Brutal. Crime in Cleveland is more nefarious than I'd feared.
Faith didn't even wind up waking me up. The nice man at the front desk did, by weedwhacking under my window at 7 a.m. Just my window, too, apparently, because ... oh my god! Maybe it was him! Maybe he robbed me! It had to be -- besides myself, only he and Faith had keys! There were no signs of forced entry, and unless I did some magical forensics on the knob and learned otherwise, no forced entry equals an inside job. I have to tell Faith about it. I told her about the robbery on the way to the new trabajo, but, she didn't have any ideas. I can't believe that I didn't figure it out until now! Obviously, it was the nightwatchman, front desk concierge guy!
After my harrowing morning (during which I fed Anyanka some crumbs), I didn't have high expectations for the new job. But it was actually kind of fun. I dusted for a while, alphabetized the books, and started drawing up designs for a new window display. That took a grand total of twelve minutes. The girl that works there, Ingeborg (I know. Not Helga or Olga. Ingeborg. But, apparently, it is the 16th most popular name in Germania, where her parents are from. She typically goes by Inge, but I think Borg would be better. Perhaps once I get past her really bad use of liquid liner, we'll become fast friends and she will let me -- nay, BEG for me to call her The Borg.), asked me a couple questions over my six hour shift about where I'd come from, but stopped listening after I said "California." One would think that by her liberal use of self-tanner that she'd be really into the Golden State, but, her eyes kind of glazed over and she went back to reading Gloom Cookie (gag, but at least she likes comics). It's too bad she didn't ask me what Sunnydale was like. I have so many good stories to tell, and our towns have so much in common.
After my "orientation" by the owner, Chuck -- which consisted of looking at various photos of him at what appeared to be the local I-Got-Dressed-in-the-Dark Fetish Nights -- I started doing inventory. There were, over the course of the day, probably about ten customers, which ranged from New Agers to ProtoGoths (during daylight, though, so I know they weren't of Der Nachtvolk). Tomorrow, he's going to give me an hour or two to sort the crates in the back. He buys a lot of stuff on eBay, so he can't vouch for the authenticity of the items... I think he's hoping that I can appraise things' worth. That's like, a 12th level ability -- you have to have like, over ten ranks in that skill to be of any use, and I'm at like maybe seventh level.
Lunch was the best part of the day. I didn't have any money for lunch, so I ate my second-to-last Nutrageous and went to the comic book store that is two doors down. It's pretty good! I mean, I have had a better collection in Sunnydale, half of which got shredded when the anti-Buffy Indiana Jones sawblades self-destructed our lair, and the other half of which are probably at the base of the crater that is Sunny D. But, the store is good. It's called "Things from Another Planet" and it's run by a guy that I'm almost positive was the model for the Comic Store Guy on the Simpsons.
What a dork. I love him! He tried to test my skills, asking me some questions about Jean Grey that I answered correctly, and I countered him by telling him some of the lesser known holes in the Marvel canon that I discovered by accident. (I won't repeat them here -- it would be like giving someone the PIN number to the Comic Book Aficiando ATM.) With a knowing look, he handed me a piece of paper and asked me to write down my name, so he could save me some of the new issues that passed through. Behind the counter! Like I said, I'm in. I stuttered for a while before I asked him for a job ... if I was only going to be at the occult store for three days a week, I could surely pick up a few more hours. He said that he didn't have any paid openings, but, if I was interested in running a module in the Game Room, that he'd keep me entertained long enough to make some contacts that might be hiring. Or introduce me to some nice kids. He winked a bit at that offer, and I'm not sure why.
But, he also offered me use of his internet facilities. Which I thought was really bitchin'(I'm starting to talk like Faith!) cool. Now I can get in touch with the gang. If, you know, I don't make friends soon.
Faith met me back at the Blue Moon Boutique at 4:00 pm. That was nice of her. She didn't give The Borg or Chuck a second glance, really -- she just came in, jumped on the counter and said, "So, Rocket Man ... did you get paid yet? I'm hungry." I looked at Chuck, who I really think should have stuck with "Charles," and asked if it would be possible to just get paid daily, if I gave him my word that I'd keep coming to work. He handed me $10 and a pitying look, and said, "Fat chance. But, here, get your girlfriend a burger. Add fries to it ... girl needs a bit more junk in her trunk."
Oh my god, horrified? YES! Horrors. He just talked to Faith like that. The Slayer. The DARK Slayer. She'd killed people, like, on purpose. She wasn't even haunted by her dead friend, she just killed people. For fun, or something. And he -- oh God.
She had jumped down and stalked over to him before I could even close my mouth, her face now a nanometer away from his smirk.
"Faith -- " I squeaked, feeling a little faint. It was my first day, ye gods! Please don't let her kill my new boss.
At the sound of my voice, their little standoff came to a close and she visibly relaxed, stepping back and throwing her hands up, "It's cool, Cap'n. It's cool."
As we walked out, I seriously wanted to just die. She can be so MORTIFYING sometimes. I picked up my bag and said brightly, "Okay, then! See you at ten a.m.! Thanks for the loan, Charles."
"Chuck. It was an advance, not a loan. And keep a muzzle on your ladyfriend, Andrew."
Faith walked backwards out of the store, blowing Charles a kiss and said, "The kid's not my boyfriend, Chucky."
Anyway. Some creature went rifiling through my things. Rifiling! My things were visibly rifled. They took a $5 bill and candy. Brutal. Crime in Cleveland is more nefarious than I'd feared.
Faith didn't even wind up waking me up. The nice man at the front desk did, by weedwhacking under my window at 7 a.m. Just my window, too, apparently, because ... oh my god! Maybe it was him! Maybe he robbed me! It had to be -- besides myself, only he and Faith had keys! There were no signs of forced entry, and unless I did some magical forensics on the knob and learned otherwise, no forced entry equals an inside job. I have to tell Faith about it. I told her about the robbery on the way to the new trabajo, but, she didn't have any ideas. I can't believe that I didn't figure it out until now! Obviously, it was the nightwatchman, front desk concierge guy!
After my harrowing morning (during which I fed Anyanka some crumbs), I didn't have high expectations for the new job. But it was actually kind of fun. I dusted for a while, alphabetized the books, and started drawing up designs for a new window display. That took a grand total of twelve minutes. The girl that works there, Ingeborg (I know. Not Helga or Olga. Ingeborg. But, apparently, it is the 16th most popular name in Germania, where her parents are from. She typically goes by Inge, but I think Borg would be better. Perhaps once I get past her really bad use of liquid liner, we'll become fast friends and she will let me -- nay, BEG for me to call her The Borg.), asked me a couple questions over my six hour shift about where I'd come from, but stopped listening after I said "California." One would think that by her liberal use of self-tanner that she'd be really into the Golden State, but, her eyes kind of glazed over and she went back to reading Gloom Cookie (gag, but at least she likes comics). It's too bad she didn't ask me what Sunnydale was like. I have so many good stories to tell, and our towns have so much in common.
After my "orientation" by the owner, Chuck -- which consisted of looking at various photos of him at what appeared to be the local I-Got-Dressed-in-the-Dark Fetish Nights -- I started doing inventory. There were, over the course of the day, probably about ten customers, which ranged from New Agers to ProtoGoths (during daylight, though, so I know they weren't of Der Nachtvolk). Tomorrow, he's going to give me an hour or two to sort the crates in the back. He buys a lot of stuff on eBay, so he can't vouch for the authenticity of the items... I think he's hoping that I can appraise things' worth. That's like, a 12th level ability -- you have to have like, over ten ranks in that skill to be of any use, and I'm at like maybe seventh level.
Lunch was the best part of the day. I didn't have any money for lunch, so I ate my second-to-last Nutrageous and went to the comic book store that is two doors down. It's pretty good! I mean, I have had a better collection in Sunnydale, half of which got shredded when the anti-Buffy Indiana Jones sawblades self-destructed our lair, and the other half of which are probably at the base of the crater that is Sunny D. But, the store is good. It's called "Things from Another Planet" and it's run by a guy that I'm almost positive was the model for the Comic Store Guy on the Simpsons.
What a dork. I love him! He tried to test my skills, asking me some questions about Jean Grey that I answered correctly, and I countered him by telling him some of the lesser known holes in the Marvel canon that I discovered by accident. (I won't repeat them here -- it would be like giving someone the PIN number to the Comic Book Aficiando ATM.) With a knowing look, he handed me a piece of paper and asked me to write down my name, so he could save me some of the new issues that passed through. Behind the counter! Like I said, I'm in. I stuttered for a while before I asked him for a job ... if I was only going to be at the occult store for three days a week, I could surely pick up a few more hours. He said that he didn't have any paid openings, but, if I was interested in running a module in the Game Room, that he'd keep me entertained long enough to make some contacts that might be hiring. Or introduce me to some nice kids. He winked a bit at that offer, and I'm not sure why.
But, he also offered me use of his internet facilities. Which I thought was really bitchin'(I'm starting to talk like Faith!) cool. Now I can get in touch with the gang. If, you know, I don't make friends soon.
Faith met me back at the Blue Moon Boutique at 4:00 pm. That was nice of her. She didn't give The Borg or Chuck a second glance, really -- she just came in, jumped on the counter and said, "So, Rocket Man ... did you get paid yet? I'm hungry." I looked at Chuck, who I really think should have stuck with "Charles," and asked if it would be possible to just get paid daily, if I gave him my word that I'd keep coming to work. He handed me $10 and a pitying look, and said, "Fat chance. But, here, get your girlfriend a burger. Add fries to it ... girl needs a bit more junk in her trunk."
Oh my god, horrified? YES! Horrors. He just talked to Faith like that. The Slayer. The DARK Slayer. She'd killed people, like, on purpose. She wasn't even haunted by her dead friend, she just killed people. For fun, or something. And he -- oh God.
She had jumped down and stalked over to him before I could even close my mouth, her face now a nanometer away from his smirk.
"Faith -- " I squeaked, feeling a little faint. It was my first day, ye gods! Please don't let her kill my new boss.
At the sound of my voice, their little standoff came to a close and she visibly relaxed, stepping back and throwing her hands up, "It's cool, Cap'n. It's cool."
As we walked out, I seriously wanted to just die. She can be so MORTIFYING sometimes. I picked up my bag and said brightly, "Okay, then! See you at ten a.m.! Thanks for the loan, Charles."
"Chuck. It was an advance, not a loan. And keep a muzzle on your ladyfriend, Andrew."
Faith walked backwards out of the store, blowing Charles a kiss and said, "The kid's not my boyfriend, Chucky."