Chapter 1 – Chap 1

You ever get out of High School and realize you have no idea what the hell you want to do with your life? Turns out, just kinda waiting and seeing where life takes you can really only get you so far. You’re always told, ‘oh what do you wanna do when you get out of High School?’

Simple enough question.

Well turns out it’s a lot harder to figure that shit out when you don’t really think of it the entire time you’re in High School.

So what do you do, when walking down that aisle and accepting your diploma and suddenly you realize, you have no clue what you want to do with your life.

My name is Travis and when I graduated High School I had no idea what the hell I wanted to do with my life. College? Not appealing to me. Job? Even less appealing. So what did I do with all my government-mandated education? Stayed home sleeping all day and gaming all night. Typical deadbeat shit.

And like any loving and supportive parents, my lovely mom and dad threatened to kick me out on my ass unless I found something to make of my life.

So I weighed my options. College? I had no idea what to study, the nearest College was several miles away, I had no scholarship opportunities, the idea of being in debt for the majority of my life was very unappealing. Job? I get home tired and probably have to listen to some asshole boss. So, it was a job I ended up choosing.

Although trying to find any kind of employment in my town was near impossible. Unless I wanted to work at a factory for the rest of my life I really had to expand my search from fast food to garbage man. Throwing my application to any place that had a help wanted sign.

And that’s how I ended up at Ol’ King Creole’s.

Honestly, I don’t remember even applying here. I just got a call one day when I was laying in bed reading a book. (Let’s just say that’s what I was doing.) When my phone pulled me away from what I was doing. Sighing as I stared at the unfamiliar number. The person behind the line talked with a heavy old southern accent, but I could tell how excited he was to meet me in person. And I was excited to finally shove it in my parents faces that I had made something with my life!

Working at a voodoo shop. Living the dream, right?

Of course, if you asked me now what I would’ve chosen now, College is looking a bit more optimal. If only a little bit.

Now look, we’ve all heard the story of bosses from hell and shitty working conditions for shit pay. And to some extent I get that, (I’ll get into my boss in a second) I really don’t hate this place. The customers piss me off more than anything.

Let me explain why by explaining my job. I work at Ol’ King Creole’s Half Priced Voodoo Shop. Quite the mouthful, huh? It’s this glorified shack full to the brim with freaky dolls and spooky cobwebs. Lovely place really, especially at night when all the desperate people come in begging for wishes or potions.Oh yea, we give out free wishes. Like really real wishes. But I don’t handle that, so I’m not gonna talk much about them. Just remember, if you ever come in and ask for a wish, please think it through thoroughly. I’m so tired of wiping up the counter after a bad wish gets granted.

The main thing I deal with is doll sales and potions. Need that wart removed? Got a great potion for that. You a shitty parent and forgot little Jimmy’s birthday? One of the dolls should do it. Just don’t come crying to me when Jimmy’s soul gets trapped in the doll. We have a strict no return policy. Is it a scam? No, you bought it without asking if it could suck up Jimmy’s soul. Can’t really do much about that now can I? Potions are more flexible, the only time I’ve seen it go bad was a weight loss potion. Had to sell the angry lady a potion to get rid of all her excess skin. I dunno what she expected, she was like 300 pounds, did she think all that skin was going to go somewhere?

The way I check into work is also pretty interesting. If I can call it that. I show up on time, or five minutes late without fail, and stab a needle into a voodoo doll on the counter. It’s not meant to look like anyone since it’s a blank template but still doesn’t make it any less weird. I swear that thing looks at me whenever I’m on my phone when nobody is in the shop and I’ve got nothing to do. What do you want me to do? Wipe the counter down for the millionth time? I’ve tried man, the dust always comes back. Without fail. You turn around for half of a second and it’s back. It’s gotten to the point where I just leave it and draw things in it.

What else, oh yea we have a basement I’m never allowed to go into. I was told by my boss, (I’ll talk about him soon, calm your horses) that I’m never allowed down there. Not that I even wanna go down there, the loud knocking coming from it and the crying has pretty well and truly kept me away from it. Hey, don’t you start judging me about it. If you’re so damn curious you go down there if you’re so damn tough. I’m just the cashier, if I’m told not to go down into the freaky murder basement, I ain’t fucking going down there!

What else happens here, hm. Well, the place seemingly stocks itself so that’s pretty cool. Sometimes. This place can get so boring when nobody is here that I wish I could restock the shelves or the potions. Something man, I get paid to sit behind the counter and ring up things people wanna buy. Simple as that. I’ve been working here for about two months and man does it feel like I’ve been here for decades. Each of my days takes like fucking three man.

Alright, I’ll stop whining and talk about my boss. If you guessed his name is King Creole, then ding ding. Congratulations, you’ve been paying attention to my dumb ramblings. King Creole who we’ll shorten to KC, for now, is weird. Like an uncanny valley kind of weird. He’s this six-four lanky man, with messy black hair and button eyes. You ever watch Coraline? Yea we’re approaching other mother territory. Though I guess he’s got her beat, cause he’s real. And his mouth is sewn up. Same with his throat and neck. Like he’s got stitches all around his neck. Sometimes when he turns his head too quickly you can see it wobble and his stitches about to snap. It’s gross. He’s pretty cool all things said, though he definitely doesn’t have a concept of personal space.

When I walked into work for my first day, he came out of God knows where and grabbed my hand, and put his face like a good three inches away from my face. One thing that strikes you about KC, apart from the stitches and buttons eyes, is how pale he is. Now I’m no bronze God myself, but KC is about as pale as white chalk. Like it’s unreal. When I first met him I thought he was wearing paint or some shit like that. But nope, that’s his skin. I think anyway. If you look at him long enough you kinda see his skin cracking. Like a sun-bleached corpse or something.

I dunno, all and all he isn’t such a bad boss. He pays well enough. I get $20 an hour to just sit here and ring up an occasional customer. You got a wish? Sorry, that’s KC’s department. And of course, if you fuck up your wish and end up as a bloody mess on the floor and counter, guess what poor idiot has to clean that up? Yours truly. So please, if you ever show up to Ol’ King Creole’s Half Priced Voodoo Shop. Think your stupid wishes through.

Now if you’ll excuse me, my break is done and that thing in the basement is really banging on the door. And that doll on the counter is really giving me the stink eye.If anything else interesting happens here, I’ll let you guys know.