DISCOUNT SLAVE BERRY PUNCH 3: SEXUAL HARASSMENT TRAINING IS MANDATORY: THE RETURN OF BERRY PUNCH: THE RERETURNING

Drink 1: BASED ON A SHOCKING TRUE STORY! Actually multiple true stories (that happened to several different individuals) woven together like a tapestry of ABSOLUTE TRUTH. (Part A)

>"So in this scenario," HR BITCH drones on, "can anyone tell me what the employee did wrong?"
>There's a moment of silence where you and Berry look at each other like holy fuck does no one else get this? and then your hand shoots up.
>Participation *burns* like happiness, but the faster it's over, the faster you can get back to real work.
>Which means it has to be you because you're kind of afraid - no, you're pretty fucking *certain* - no one but you and Berry get this.
>"Yes, Anon? Can you explain?"
"So let me just get this straight in case I misheard something."
>Not that you're ever wrong (except on purpose), but you can be polite about this.
"In this scenario, a mother and daughter go up to an employee and ask where the toy planes are, and he pats the girl's head, runs his fingers through her, tells her she's pretty, and then suggests the mother buys her a doll instead of a plane like the girl wants, right?"
>"Yes," HR BITCH nods. "Exactly. But can see where he made a mistake?"
"Probably the part where this fictional employee molests a goddamn child."
>SEEMS PRETTY FUCKING OBVIOUS, RIGHT!?
>Though this is supposedly inclusivity training, so...
>"Um."
>She looks more upset about you swearing (why? fucking twat should be used to it by now) than the fact that you solved her puzzle.
>"Yeah, that's pretty obvious," Berry adds. "That's where everything started going downhill."
>"Well, that's not *good*," HR BITCH (seriously, *fuck* learning her name - she'll just be replaced in a month or two with someone who looks just like her) mumbles, "but that's not what we're looking for here. This class is about being inclusive and not making assumptions about customers like -"
"Like that this kid wanted to get creeped on by the kind of loser that works here? Seems like the kind of assumption we really shouldn't be making. Oh, *and* assuming that her mom is okay with it since she's kinda standing right fucking there."
>"Okay, okay, that's *true*, but what we're looking for is -"
>"Oh!" Flusherpie gasps as her little yellow hoof shoots up like a fucking rocket.
>HR BITCH sighs.
>Hah. Stupid twat. She thinks this is over.
>It is only just beginning.
>"Do you see it Fluttershy?" she JUST COMFUCKINGPLETELY slides past the issue of corporate-authorized pedophilia.
>"I- I think so?"
>HR BITCH smiles.
>"Can you explain it for Anon?"
>Oh okay well fuck you whore and the cock you rode to get this job.
>"Well..." Buttercry mumbles, "is it that there's no penetration...?"

"Sweet!"
>"What is...?" YELLOWHORS asks as the three of you walk out of the training room.
"Oh shit, did you not do that on purpose?"
>"Um, do *what*?"
"That penetration comment."
>"It just made sense, Anon," she sighs and kicks her little hoovsies at the tiles like a sad critter. "If *not* touching the girl wasn't the right answer, maybe we're supposed to touch her more."
>Yeaaaaaaaaah. Another worried glance exchange with Berry.
>Maybe you two really should keep Fluffernuffer away from Sam.
>Y'know... just for her own safety.
>Again.
>One of these days you're going to find out where Sam got that can of mace.
"I *think* the 'correct' answer has something to do with trying to force someone that wants to buy a toy plane to buy a doll instead."
>"But why would you do that?" Shusherbye gasps.
"Shit man fuck I don't know, seems pretty fucking stupid to me."
>Berry nods.
>Yeaaaaah she does. She's a good pony.
"It's like 'OH HAY YOU'RE LOOKING FOR BEDSHEETS OKAY WELL HERE'S OUR COOKIES BECAUSE YOU LOOK LIKE A FATTY I GUESS.'"
>"Oh."
"Yeah."
>YEP.
>You’d be willing to bet that was probably the next scenario too.
>Singleply nods.
>"That *does* seem rude. "
>"It's stupid," Berry growls. "Who cares about rude? The faster you help them find what they want, the faster they'll leave you alone to do *real* work."
>Uddercry stops and stomps a hoof.
>"Hey!" she whimpers. "Helping customers *is* real work!"
"Uh-huh."
>"Suuuuure it is, Fluttershy."
>"Hey! Hey!"
>You just keep walking.
>It's not long before there's a fast pitter patter of pegahooves rushing to catch up to you.
>"Soooooo..." your stalker mumbles, "what's sweet...?"
"Whadya mean?"
>"You said 'sweet'."
"Oh. Yeah. That training was supposed to take an hour. You got us kicked out in 5 minutes. I think that's a record. Is that a record, Berry?"
>"You're usually a little more subtle about it," Berry sighs. "I think you get off on dragging it out and being a jackass as long as possible."
"Do I?"
>"You do."
"But do I really?"
>"Yes."
"But do I *reaaaaally*?"
>"Yes, you do."
"Huh. If you say so."
>"I do."
>You... *shrug*.
>Then kneel slightly - just a bit - more like a MASCULINE AS HECK CURTSEY - and pat Flusherplush's head.
>She makes this happy little squee that doesn't quite grate on your soul for some reason.
"We've got to go back to seasonal and keep tearing down Christmas."
>BECAUSE SOMEHOW SINCE SEASONAL IS *NEAR* RECEIVING THAT'S YOUR FUCKING JOB YOU GUESS FUCK YOU YOU DON'T KNOW BUT NEITHER DOES MANAGEMENT BUT THAT'S FUCKING PAR FOR THE FUCKING COURSE.
>She gets this horrified look that you nod along with until you realize she's not sympathizing or feeling sorry for you but probably thinks you're about to demolish the whole concept of Christmas and possibly all other winter holidays while you're at it.
>Well... you probably *could*... if you *tried* hard enough...
>Hmmmm...
>"We're just taking down the tables, Fluttershy," Berry sighs. "Not everything. Paul wants to use that space to put out more wrapping paper.
>You can almost feel her hoof smacking the back of your head and her calling you a jackass.
>"O-oh. Okay."
"Yep. Head on back to Customer Service and we'll see you when our shifts end, 'kay?"
>"'kay!"
>You hold out an open hand.
"High five!"
>MORE HAPPY SQUEE NOISES.
>[SOUND EFFECT OF A HOOF BEING PRESSED AGAINST YOUR PALM]
>Hah. Sucker. You've sure got *her* trained.

>You stare at the table.
>It stares back.
>So you kick it, because who the fuck does it think it is? The fucking abyss? Fuck no.
>And then you kick it again for good measure.
>"That was productive," Berry mumbles.
"Just establishing dominance."
>"Don't make me kick you."
>You step away from Berry. Just for good measure.
>"So how do we do this?"
>That *is* the question, isn't it?
>These tables aren't *that* heavy.
>You could flip one by yourself.
"Well..."
>You mean... you wouldn't get a full 540-degree rotation, but you could like... *tip* it over...
"Whoever the fuck thought it would be a good idea to supply us with solid metal tables was an idiot."
>"Or he knew exactly what he was doing."
"God, I wish I had his job. I would have ordered tables like... twice as big."
>You hold your hands far apart, because clearly you are showing off the size of the fish you once caught and not anything remotely related to the words that came out of your mouth because your hands aren't anywhere clear to matching the length of the table, let alone twice that.
"Well, all we've got to do is flip them over onto the - uh, hold on."
>You sprint all 50 feet or so to the backroom, dodging customers as you go, and sprint back with a flatbed cart.
>HAHAHA.
>THIS TIME IN CAPITALIST RETAIL, CUSTOMERS DODGE *YOU*!
>You sidle the cart right up almost beside the table, or where it'll be once it gets half-flipped.
"So we flip the table onto the cart, get the legs detached, and store everything away."
>"Sounds... easy...?"
>You nod.
"Luckily someone cleared all the candy and shit off of the table before we got here, so -"
>"No, I did that while you were standing around being useless like you were management."
"Oh."
>Huh.
"When was that?"
>"When you were staring at the table like it drank the last cherry cider."
"Hey. I wasn't being useless. I was *planning*."
>Berry grimaces.
>"Planning how to flip the table?"
"No."
>Fuck.
>Uh...
"Dinner. How does -"
>"Do I have to cook it?"
"Nope."
>Maybe? Well no, you just said no, so you'll come up with something that even Fluttershy can handle.
>"Sounds perfect."
"Great. Now go put your hoof at the base of the far leg and I'll lift this side up. I think -"

- 15 MINUTES LATER -
- ALTERNATIVELY, TWELVE FUCKS, A DOZEN SHITS, AND A FEW THUDS LATER, DEPENDING ON HOW YOU KEEP TRACK OF TIME -
(Anon was using the later, as checking the clock is more complicated than keeping track of the number of things that made him swear)

"Well, *fuck*."

- SHORTLY AFTER THAT -

"Okay, good, we got it flipped. Now all we have to do is take the legs off and the hard part is done."
>You move to the closest corner and point at the semi-magical mechanism that holds the legs in place.
"Just twist this knob counterclockwise a couple times and that'll loosen it enough for the leg to -"
>"This one doesn't have a knob."
"Fuck."
>You squat-scoot over to her corner and -
"Fuck. This is what happens when I don't personally do everything myself."
>Berry clears her throat in a most obnoxious manner.
"Hey, I own you. So..."
>"So everything I do is your fault?"
"Yeah, let's go with that. But *this* -! Fuck. I wish they hadn't set this shit up while we were off. This... is going to *suck*."
>Some twatmonkey has replaced the normal and simple knob thingy with an l-bracket and four (what you're going to assume are) self-tapping bolts.
>Yes, *bolts*. Not screws. Nooooo, that'd be too easy. All you would need in that case is a screwdriver.
>Nope.
>Oh, yeah, and the metal leg those are holding in place?
>It's wood. Spray painted silver.
>Yep.
"Let me guess, they threw away some of the legs while we weren't looking, didn't they?"
>Berry shrugs.
>"Does that surprise you?"
"No. No it does not."
>BEST PONY puts a hoof on your leg and makes comforting pat pat gestures.
>"Should I bring emergency chocolate?"
"I appreciate the thought, but not on the sales floor. Some pliers from the tool stash in our desk will suffice."
>You pat her head and get to work on the other legs.
>Riiiiiiiight about the time you've finished with that and waited long enough you're considering going looking for her for about the third or fourth time, you hear the most ominous scratching/dragging/clanking.
>There's no goddamn valid reason you should be hearing an ominous scratching/dragging/clanking.
>But you can make guesses.
>Berry coming around the endcap dragging an oversized pipe wrench in her mouth was not one of them.
>Literally dragging.
>She's got the tail end of the handle clamped between her teeth and is letting the head dig a deep scratch in the vinyl tiles.
>Yes. Letting.
>She's strong enough to carry it normally.
>Fucking ponies and their stupid magic muscles.
>Well.
>You assume she has a good reason for this.
>Like being a little shit because fuck everyone else in this place.
>So you cross your arms and wait until she drops it at your feet with a rattle/clang/thud that makes that kinda cute customer over by the wrapping paper jump and look around.
>Ew. Nose ring.
"Seriously?"
>"Yeah," Berry snarls. Oh, right. Not... like... at *you* or anything. You don't take it personally. "It's all that was in the tool bin!"
>Yep.
>Your face instantly goes into the same frowny-HATE-EVERYTHING grimace.
>STILL.
>You wave a hand at the little bolts.
"How the fuck am I supposed to use a pipe wrench to get those off? They're like... quarter-inch heads!"
>"Use it to hit someone until they bring back your tools."
>GODDAMN.
>You *knew* she had a good reason for bringing the wrench.
>But...
"Tempting but thanks to turnover whoever 'borrowed' our gear is probably long gone."
>"So? Hit someone anyway until someone else brings back the tools or gets us new ones."
>VERY FUCKING TEMPTING.
>But no.
>You shake your head.
"There are better things to get arrested for."
>"And yet no matter how often you threaten to crucify someone..."
"I know, I suck on the follow-through. Let's just get this done so we can go home. I'll just... try the wrench I guess."
>You know exactly how that works out and don't need to narrate what a fucking stupid idea that was.
>It's not long before you give up and send Berry to the tool aisle to nab something off the shelf while you yank on the table leg like it's December 1st and that's not a table leg.
>Because YES THAT WILL TOTALLY WORK.
>Of course it doesn't. But it's better than standing around doing nothing.
>Except it's not because your hand slips.
>While you're shaking the end of the leg. And putting your full weight behind it.
>And you don't exactly fall down but you do fall forward.
>At a bit of an angle.
>That drags your forearm along one of the corners.
>And for a piece of wood, it's surprisingly sharp.
>yep
>Fuck.
>OW.
>You're smart enough not to touch it.
>Not smart enough to look at the gouge along the underside of your forearm and breathe a sigh of "OH THANK FUCK IT'S NOT THAT BAD" when you don't see any blood.
>And then the blood starts coming up.
>YEP
>That's a lot of blood for a scratch.
>Well.
>A very deep, very long scratch.
>That's more of a gouge, really.
>Great.
>So... uh...


Drink 2: FUCK TOPICAL CHAPTER TITLES.
 
>You're standing there being an indecisive cunt and bleeding (yes, you're multitasking) for a few minutes until you hear the thipy-thump of hooves and make some assumptions.
>Which the training you just TOTALLY COMPLETED (at least that's what the paperwork will say) told you not to do, but fuck that because you're better than best practice.
"No pliers on the tool aisle?"
>"Of course not," Berry growls from behind you. "And I checked with maintenance, too, but he kicked off early, so -"
"No one can get into his office to get to his tools since he has the only key."
>"Not unless you want to unscrew his lock to get in there again."
>You sigh.
"Too much work."
>You sigh again FOR EMPHASIS.
"This is his fucking fault too. I *know* he's the jackass that did this. Who else would even *have* self-tapping bolts!?"
>You kick at the table leg.
>Hard this time.
>Like you really fucking mean it.
>Fuck.
>OW.
>Fuck.
"Fuck. Ow."
>dammitalltohell
"Why did I stop wearing steel toes!?"
>You kick it again because you're smart.
>"Why would you do that again!?"
"Establishing dominance. I can't let it think it's got the best of me."
>[DISGRUNTLED HORSE SIGH]
>"Move."
>You suddenly and quite violently learn two new things that you already knew but it's occasionally good to get a visual demonstration.
>1) Horsey kicks hard.
>2) Berry is in charge.
>She establishes dominance like a fucking champion and breaks the wooden leg clean off with a single kick.
>"There. Problem solved."
"I wish there were a few other problems you would solve this way."
>You start marching off towards the clothing department.
"Wait right here, Berry. I'll go get -"
>"I'm not kneecapping Cristal for you, Anon."
>You do a quick 180 spin and grab the flatbed cart's handle.
"Then let's get the table put away so we can move on to our next thankless quest."
>"Putting out the wrapping paper?"
"Exactly."
>Remember how customers dodged you when you came out with the flatbed cart?
>For some reason whatever threat you posed in their minds doesn't exist now that the cart is loaded up with a big metal table at just the perfect hight for fucking their shins so hard their grandparents get pregnant.
>Nope.
>They don't dare move one inch out of your path lest some other customer nab the last whatever while they're distracted being polite.
>Soooo... yeah. It takes a while to get out of seasonal, but after that it's fairly smooth sailing to the back room.
>Oooooooh, you should hook up a sheet and see if you can -
>That's fucking stupid.
>There's not enough air circulation in the building to make a sail-based landship.
>So you content yourself with pushing the damn cart all the way to the backroom and down to the designated storage space (of the week, until some manager decides it should be at the other end of the stockroom for whatever reason).
>It's a narrow space about... oh... does it really matter how big the space is?
>What's important is there's a gap between the steel racking and the concrete wall just big enough to hold three of these tables upright and it's currently only holding two.
>The most important part?
>*Upright.*
>You sigh.
"Alright Berry, help me get this fucker up on end."
>"How are we going to that!?"
"The same way we flipped it over."
>"Through the magic of friendship and swearing just loud enough to make us feel better but not loud enough for others to be offended?"
"Exactly."
>You reach for the table and -
>GRAB
>It takes a second for you to realize that wasn't you.
>Something got grabbed, but it wasn't by you. And it wasn't the table.
>"What happened to your arm!?"
>Oh. It *was* you. Just on the opposite end of the whole grabbing thing.
>There's a fuzzy pony holding your hand.
>This is nice.
>Um...
>Right.
"I scratched it on the table leg when I was being an idiot. It's nothing."
>"Doesn't look like nothing to me, Anon. I think we need to take care of this."
"Nah, it's..."
>Oh shit. When did it start bleeding that much?
"... uh... yeah. Maybe. But let's get this table put away first."
>"Anon!"
"Someone will bitch if they see it out without us standing here and I don't want to deal with that."
>"Then they can put it away!"
>[silence]
>[staring]
>[a duet of ludicrous cackling]
"Holy shit you said that so seriously!"
>"I know, right!?" Berry snorts. "But RIGHT AFTER we're going to see to your arm."
"Deal."
>You get a good grip along one side and heave like you were remembering... *something*. But as in a tossing sense instead of a vomiting sense.
>Okay, that didn't really work and you couldn't come up with a good simile for it on account of not really finding anything disgusting so much as mildly amusing anymore.
>You might be a little fucked in the head.
>But anyway, you put your back *and* legs into it and get the table levered up far enough for Berry to kick the flatbed out from under it and brace herself underneath.
>Dangerous as fuck, except... well... she's not human. BOY YOU SURE WISH CERTAIN OTHER COWORKERS WERE HELPING YOU INSTEAD AND WHOOPS YOUR HANDS SLIPPED.
>But that didn't happen, because you'd never drop a table on Best Pony. BUT CERTAIN OTHER COWORKERS...
>Also because she's done fucking about and basically throws it out of your hands with a good shove that sends it slamming up against the wall.
>And from there it's a simple task of shoving it into the gap.
>AND YOU ARE AN EXPERT AT FITTING LARGE THINGS INTO SMALL PLACES.
>Seriously, it's ridiculous how little storage room this store has.
>Like... needs-three-external-40-foot-storage-containers-during-all-of-fourth-quarter-but-district-only-authorized-two-and-now-you're-taking-double-trucks-every-night-but-without-enough-people-to-stock-that-amount-of-freight-out levels of no space.
>So, yeah. That's pretty easy. Just some shoving and shimmying and wiggling one of the other tables over a little and bam job's a good'un.
>"Okay," Berry groans, "let me take another look."
>You wave your hands towards the table and do a little half-bow because that's how the fancy British people over in Britland present stuff, right?
>Though you are a little curious why she wants to see the table again.
>"Your *arm*, you dick."
"Oh. Right."
>So you hold that out.
>"The *other* one."
"Oh, the bleeding one?"
>"*Yes*. Don't make me kick you."
>NOPE YOU LIKE YOUR LEGS ATTACHED.
>You present your injured limb before pony gives it some friends to keep it company.
>"Well, it's not as long as it looks, but it is deep. Let's start by cleaning it out and -"
"I know how to treat a cut, Berry. I'm a grown-ass adult and can take care of myself."
>"Bullshit," she grins.
"OH LIKE YOU'RE ANY BETTER! At least I don't try to drink myself to-"
>fuck
>that wasn't the right thing to say
>not to her
>not...
>Berry's mouth is all make-anon-feel-guilty-and-like-shit wibbly.
>She's either going to cry or kill you and what's worst is that's really not what worries you so much as that you were a cunt.
>You don't like feeling this way.
>Then she snorts.
>"Yeah, okay," she says with one of those totally sincere and kind but a little sad smirks. What are they called again...?
>Oh, yeah. A smile.
>"I can't take care of myself," she sighs, "but at least I can take care of you."
"Um... sorry, I..."
>"And you take care of me. Together we almost make one functional adult."
"Yeah, I guess. But Berry, I didn't..."
>"I know. Come on, let's get this cleaned up."
 
>Washing it off is the easy part.
>You only have to move about a dozen carts to get to the "DO NOT BLOCK ON PENALTY OF OSHA FINE" sink and eyewash station.
>Sure, the dispenser there is out of paper towels (which you didn't know at the time), but the closest other sink is in the employee restroom but those walls probably have enough blood smeared on the walls already.
>Yet supposedly *men* can't aim.
>Hah!
>You set aside those unpleasant thoughts and press a hopefully clean wad of pa- uh, nope.
>That's right.
>And that explains the weird look Berry is giving you. *And* why no paper towels are coming out of the dispenser no matter now many times you yank on the lever.
>You already tried this and it's empty.
>WHELP.
"First-aid kit still at our desk?"
>Berry nods.
>"It was. Should be."
>Good.
>Since your desk is kinda *right there* where the overnight team unloads the truck, it's a good spot for it to be. Probably more injuries there than anywhere else in the store.
>Berry gives you a little push towards receiving.
>"Hurry up before it starts bleeding again."
>Good advice. You see no reason to argue with it.
>So you make your way to your desk and... uh...
"Um... Berry...? Where is it?"
>"Right next to the..."
>She ducks under your arms and climbs up the chair to peer around.
>"It was right here," she mumbles. "It was right fucking here when I was looking for pliers!"
"Surprise!"
>JAZZ HANDS!
"Someone jacked it too!"
>"Shit!"
>Oooooof, slightly blood jazz hands.
>Yep, that's a dripper.
"It's fine, Berry. There's another one in the grocery prep room."
>And that's just down the hallway a bit, soooo...
>"Okay, wait right here and I'll be back with -"
"No, I think I need to wash this off again."
>Bandaids don't really stick to blood, after all.
"Might as well use the sink in there."
>"Good idea."
>SO YOU AND BERRY START YOUR QUEST.
>Why does this feel like one of those fucking annoying fetch quests from the kinds of games nerds play where you get sent from one place to another to another to another to another to another and probably get sent right back to where you started but then you have to do the exact same chain but in reverse?
>Are you *that* genre savvy?
>You get some odd looks from the assorted, random, possibly procedurally generated coworkers you pass.
>Not from everyone, of course. Most seem pretty oblivious to everything.
>At least until one brave soul has the courage to speak up.
>"Uh, Anon?"
"Yes, total stranger?"
>Oh wait, is this the new manager for the... uh... *whatever* department?
>Might be.
>"You're bleeding."
"I'm vaguely aware of that -"
>You hold up your bloody hand.
"- and trying to find a bandage right now."
>"But... um... you're bleeding on the floor."
>You check. Huh. So you are.
>If this guy and/or girl was wearing his and/or her name badge, you might bother to learn her (or his) name on account of their unusually perceptive perception skills.
>But he (or she) is not.
>Oh well.
"Sadly I'm not certified to clean up bodily fluids so this sounds like a problem for someone who won't get fired for wiping it up."
>"But -"
"Nope. Not certified."
>You point to Ol' Bleedy.
"Want me to go get on the computer and take that training before seeing to this?"
>"Nooooo, you should probably get a bandaid on that."
"Cool."
>Y'know what's not cool?
>The first aid kit in the grocery prep room.
>When you pop that fucker open, you find -
>Yes, that's right. It's actually there.
>You're surprised. So is Berry.
>The kit itself might even be a little caught off guard.
>Which might go some way towards explaining why there are no bandages.
>Nope, not a one. There's some gauss, but the package has already been torn open and it's not exactly clean.
>Not to say that the first aid kit is empty.
>But... uh... yeah.
>You dig around a bit but none of this crap will be useful in this particular circumstance. 
>"Well!?"
"No bandages. Let's try... uh..."
>"Customer service?"
"That's on the other end of the store."
>"It's the next closest spot I know of."
>You shrug.
"Pharmacy is closer."
>"But they don't have a... you're just going to open a box and defect it out, aren't you?"
>That *was* your plan, but... eh...
"Let's check customer service."
>You close the kit back up and stow it away. You're not a monster, after all.
>*Someone* might have a need for all the junk in there. Just not you.
>You're not exactly sure *who*, but it's possible.
>After all.. eh... it could happen.
>You're halfway to the customer service counter, passing by the office supplies, when you realize... well, you've realized you are actually bleeding quite a bit and while it's not exactly life threatening you have decided that putting pressure on the cut with your other hand is probably a GOOD IDEA, but you've also realized -
>Hold on, that realization will have to wait.
>There's a customer flagging you down.
>"Go on, I can take care of this," Berry says with a nudge. But nah.
>Customer is looking at you, not Berry.
>There's probably a reason. Like you're bigger so she saw you first or she's some kind of pony-hating bigot.
>Either way... she'll probably get bitchy if you walk away.
>They always do.
>You sigh and shake your head. Internally.
>Outwardly you nod to the woman and turn her way. You need to at least explain that Berry will be helping her or...
>SIGH.
>"Excuse me! Excuse me!"
>Yes, dumb bitch, calling out is absolutely essential when the person you were flagging down is already walking towards you and has acknowledged your existence.
"Hi!"
>Oh fuck, that sounded cheerful. And you didn't have to try.
>That's depressing.
"Is there something I can help you with?"
>"Yes," the customer answers and points to... ah. "Could you get that notebook for me? It's on the top shelf and I can't reach it."
>Good thing you didn't let Berry try to do this herself. Though... nah. She might hurt herself climbing the shelves.
"Sure thing."
>But did this cunt even *try* to get it herself? Probably not.
>Whatever.
>You grab the notebook and hand it to her.
>She smiles for a moment, then looks at the bloody fingerprints you've left on the cover.
>For some reason this seems to confuse her.
>"This one has blood on it."
"Looks like."
>"Could you clean it off?"
"Sorry, I'm not qualified to clean up bodily fluids."
>OOOF.
>Her unhappy frowny face gets you all excited in the wrongest ways.
>"Then could you get me another one?"
"If you don't mind waiting a bit, I can call someone over to help you or I can just take care of this -"
>You raise your bloody hand. Actually, both of them so she takes the hint.
"- and I'll be right back. It'll just take me -"
>"This will only take you a second," she huffs.
"Okay, sorry about that."
>So you hand her another bloody notebook.
>Sooooo weird how every single one you pick up seems to be just like that somehow.
>What a random coinkidonk.
"Here you go."
>Aaaaaaand flash her your bestest, most sincere smile.
"Have a nice day."
>No wonder you greeted her so cheerfully. You had a jackass planned all along and didn't even know it.
>Fuck yeah, you're good.
>She's so stunned that...
>"Um, *excuse me* -"
>OHSHITLEGIT.
>Hah. Berry is quickwalking ahead of you. She knows what's up.
>You remembered not to wear a name badge today, right?
>You slap at your chest to check and... yes...! No!
>Now your shirt is all bloody. Fuck.
>But at least no name badge.
>There are some very strong advantages to looking like a generic background character, aren't there?
>Okay, uh, Berry is looking at you funny.
>Um...
"What?"
>"Why are you laughing?"
"I am? Huh. That's weird."
>Honestly a little fucked up.
>What is wrong with you?
>Well...
>There are *many* answers to that. All equally true and horrifying in their own unique way.
>So you don't spend any time trying to narrow down this particular incident to one specific cause.
>Because you've got a first aid kit to kind.
>"Are you going to -" Berry starts as the two of you approach customer service.
>She's pointing over towards the customer bathrooms and you can figure opurt the rest.
"Nah. Might as well find a bandapid before washing it off again. The more I bleed, the less likely it is customers will try to stop me, right?"
>"No."
"Well, a man can hope."
>"Hope is the first step on the road to disappointment."
"Old pony saying?"
>"I heard it from you."
"You did? Shit, that's a little fucked up."
>You don't slow your pace and swing around the customer service counter at the same brisk walk you've maintained since your escape.
>Luckily you've got good shoes and can corner like a beast.
>And double lucky customer service isn't packed like it usually is. Just one employee. Fluttershy.
>Well, lucky for you. Not so lucky for the line of people stretching almost to the door.
>Particularly at poor sucker at the front of the line. As soon as the guy that sees you he immediately steps forward thinking you're there to help him.
"Sorry, I'm not trained to -"
>"Oh, ah."
>WELL, THAT WAS EAS- WHY ISN'T HE -
>"Neither am I," Berry adds.
>Man frowns, but backs up.
>GOOD.
"Everyone abandon you for training, Flufflepuff?"
>Yellowbelly nods without breaking her stream of chatter with the customer she's.... doing something with.
>You weren't bullshitting when you said you weren't trained for this shit, so you don't know exactly *what* she's doing.
>Hopefully not just fucking about and wasting the time of everyone in line.
>Hooooopefully.
>"You're giggling again."
"Whoops."
>Now where did they...?
>You look around - WITH YOUR HANDS *NOT* ON YOUR HIPS* LIKE SOME KIND OF MANAGER - until... untiiiiiiiiil...
>Ah.
>You grab Shuddermutter around her midsection and lift her off her little stool.
>The customer on the other side of the register gets this big eyed shocked look but pony never stops chattering as you set her on top of the counter.
>Good for her.
>"Um... that was rude..."
>"No, it's okay," NOT-BEST-BUT-DECENT-YOU-GUESS PONY tells the customer, "he owns me. So would you like this back on your card or -"
>You nudge the stool aside to get to the first-aid kit stuffed under the counter.
>Pop it open aaaaand...
"Sigh."
>The same as the other one.
>Shove it - wait, no. Whoops. Customer was right, that *was* kinda rude.
>You grab one of the last alcohol wipes out of the kit and *then* shove the first aid kit back.
>But not before giving Berry a sad shake of your head.
>Kick stool back. Replace pony. Wipe your bloody handprints off your little URUK-PONAI's sides with the wipe while she calls the next customer over.
>Pat h- nope. No headpat.
>Wouldn't be workplace appropriate, not out here where customers can see. Plus you'd get blood all over her face and...
>Hmmmm, she *does* owe you for that Gundam/wall/housepaint incident...
>"Stop it."
"Okay."
>Wait, was that Berry or - eh, does it matter?
>You stop it.
"Okay, let's check clerical I guess. And *then* I'm looting the first aid aisle."
>"Sounds fair," Berry agrees.
 
>SO YOU FAST TRAVEL BUT IN REAL WORLD, BUT YOU KNOW IT WORKS BECAUSE IF YOU'RE WALKING FAST ENOUGH WITH A CERTAIN LOOK ON YOUR FACE CUSTOMERS DON'T TRY TO STOP YOU.
 
"Great. They fucking moved it."
>AT LEAST YOU'RE ASSUMING THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED BECAUSE YOU'RE STANDING IN CLERICAL BEHIND THE DESK AND YOU DON'T SEE A DAMN FIRST AID KIT ANYWHERE.
>FUCKERS.
>"Uh..."
"It's usually RIGHT HERE next to the paper cutter."
>Pure coincidence. You think.
>"Yeah, they moved it," Berry sighs and pokes at the desk. "To the drawer labeled 'first-aid kit'."
"Those fuckers."
>Berry noses it open and you pull the kit out because yeah it actually is there. Cool. That's something of a surprise - it being where it's supposed to be which *isn't* where it's supposed to supposed to be but still it was where it was supposed to be you guess so that's a win.
>But is it -
>You drop it on the desk top, making the HR girl whatshername jump.
>Not that HR girl. The other one. The hourly one.
>Well shit, if she didn't want people using her desk as a medic station, she shouldn't have hid the first-aid kit there.
>"Is everything alright...?" she asks. Because obviously everything is alright.
"Bleeding."
>"What happened!?"
"Bled."
>You fumble with the latch for a sec and then...
>The latch snaps open with a harsh click and you fling the lid up.
>Yup.
"SIGH."
>"What's wrong?" she asks and you can *hear* Berry roll her eyes.
>You should probably get her some eye drops or something. You shouldn't be able to hear that.
"There's nothing useful in here."
>"What do you mean!? I just filled them all up yesterday!"
>Ah.
"Ah."
>"Ah," Berry sighs.
"I guess that explains why they're stuffed full of tampons and pads."
>"Well, those are for -"
"Useful if I get shot I suppose, but other than that..."
>You shrug.
"Not so useful for a cut, y'know?
>SHRUG HARDER.
"Whatever. I don't mind bleeding on everything."
>Maybe people will stop stealing your shit if it's covered in blood.
>Huh.
>You really hadn't considered that before.
>It's true what they say - whoever they are and however insane they may be: there is a bright side to everything.