It was unlike no other Sunday before; I started work at 10:30, a good half hour before our scheduled open and I wasn’t looking forward to it.

 I arrived on time and approached the back door; it was garage like in both operation and appearance. I pressed my pointer finger into the old decayed rubber which was the door bell, or ‘The Bell as it was colloquially known as throughout the store.

I stood around for a good five minutes and a further bad 3 minutes where I pressed the button four more times. Eventually the door began to rise; I bent down and crawled under to find myself at the feet of Rose, the boss. She gave me a delightful stare before enquiring about my well being, I enquired hers and the spectacle continued for a moment. We both went our separate ways after that; hers to the office, mine to the staff room.

I had luggage and needed to put it away into a safe place, e.g a locker, hence my journey to the staff room. I signed my name in the login book, it didn’t work, and I made several more optimistic attempts before realising I was using caps. It worked after that. I made my way to the office and ecstatically, in a boring sort of tone, said to Rose “What am I doing? Vacuuming?” She looked at me as if I was retarded, with a smile, trying not to laugh that is. She nodded grimly and read from the scripture from the day beforehand, it was typed for that very reason:

“Hi Rose, outside was done yesterday, just need to vacuum centre, thanks”

  I turned to walk off and gather my equipment (the vacuum cleaner) but before I could take a step, I felt a hand clasp my shoulder. I turned around and Rose was standing. She stared me in the eye, with an emotional, terrified look and said:

 “Here. You might need this” and pulled one of those high powered hand guns from her belt and handed it to me.

I nodded, she nodded. I turned away once more and made my way to the small room which was the ‘Cleaning Room’ whilst shoving the gun into my belt.

I lugged the heavy piece of machinery that was the vacuum cleaner, or vacuum for short, out onto the dimly, half lit shop floor. A challenge it was to haul the monster and open the door at the same time. My apt skills were relentless.

I took the first step onto the shop floor and the door slammed behind me. I stopped and listened. There was the occasional ‘toong’ of the flickering fluorescent light that was in need of a replacement, it really pissed me off; apart from that everything was as silent as it was when it was left the night beforehand, possibly silenter.

I decided to start my vacuuming in footwear, where the shoes were. I marched over to the power point with caution; Rose hadn’t given me the gun for no reason, which meant there was one (1). I plunged the metal teeth into the socket and flicked the switch. The vacuum cleaner came alive suddenly, sending me into a state of shock and soilage. I quickly turned off the power.

What kind of cruel person would play such a joke of leaving it switched on? I switched the vacuum to off before turning it on at the power point again. As I bent up to move the vacuum cleaner to the starting position I saw, from the corner of my eye, something move. I quickly turned my head to investigate but saw that it was nothing. Yes, the notion of investigating something which turns out to be nothing is a perplexing. How could I see nothing and have it catch my attention? Physics indeed.

I composed myself in an aisle of footwear. Upon arrival, I found a shoe on the ground. I looked around for its rightful place, wobbling my head incessantly. The shoes hung from row upon row of arms. The spot for this shoe was in the highest row. It was much out of reach for my liking.

Using my knowledge of chemistry I formed a solution, but that was weeks ago, I needed something now. I quickly formed another solution, this one being helpful and having much less physical properties.

 I placed the shoe in my mouth and going cliff hanger, I grasped the large scuff that was hanging in front of me. With a hand on the scuff, another on a stiletto and my feet generously embedded in the first row of heels, I began climbing. I only had to ascend several more rows and the rightful spot would be in reach. I extended my worthless arm to the heavens and hooked the shoe’s hanger upon the rightful arm. It hung in such a way that said “Hey, look at me”. I was satisfied.

 I looked down; it was a long drop to the ground. I went to move one foot and slipped, in my haste I grabbed onto a pair of clogs. The hanger snapped and I dropped a few inches. Luckily the elastic binding the pair together was caught on the arm it once hung from; my dear life was saved. 

Dangling and rotating slowly, I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. I heard a menacing pur come from down below somewhere. I opened my eyes slowly and peered down.

“Sweet Jesus” I said, ever so blasphemously. There was a Velociraptor staring up at me with its ugly little reptilian face.

 It jumped into the air and snapped at my feet with its razor sharp teeth. I lurched my legs up as it did so. It was time for evasive action. Holding on with one arm I grabbed the gun from my belt. The raptor leapt into the air again, snapping at my feet; it was even closer than before. As it landed on its feet I aimed at the top of its head and fired one single deadly shot.

 The raptors head exploded, sending blood and brain in every direction. I clambered down the shoes, switched the vacuum cleaner on and sucked up the blood and brain, before sucking up the entire dead body. To my surprise the vacuum cleaner was now full.

I had to go and get a rubbish bag from the front desk to empty the vacuums contents into. Now, it doesn’t take a palaeontologist to work out that raptors are social creatures that hunt in packs, or does it? I forget. But I had sent a clear message to the raptors, I had a gun and I wasn’t afraid to use it. They would have to step up their game plan by a notch or two.

I strode (strided) to the desk, twirling the gun on my pointer finger. I grabbed a bag and made for footwear, where the shoes were. I walked onto the path and stopped dead in my tracks and squinted to confirm my disbelief. There was a plate about 10 metres down path bearing a block of cheese and a side of bacon. It looked delicious. Was it a trap? I pondered. Possibly yes, seeming there was no other reason for cheese and bacon to be placed ever so neatly on the path. It looked so tempting. I peered around, no raptors in sight.

 I slinked over the cheese and bacon and metaphorically ate it with my eyes on approach. I towered over the feast, ready to ingest. I bent down to pick up the cheese but as I did so a net lifted up from underneath me. I hadn’t seen it in my haste to have the cheese and bacon. I was lifted me to the ceiling. My face pressed against it and it cut into my flesh as I slowly rotated through the air. I tried to move but I was tangled up to much.

After a dozen seconds of slow rotating I saw the ugliest of all raptors reveal itself from underneath some dressing gowns. It thought it was so clever.

It waltzed over to the net and stared me in the eye(s). It gave me a look, a look that said “I’m gonna eat ya!”. Just at that very moment in time loud rattling was heard and the Raptor was riddled with bullets and questions.

 It fell to the ground and lay lifeless in a pool of blood. I twisted and turned in the net trying to get it to move so I could see my hero. I heard a single shot before the ground came towards me at a tremendously increasing speed. I was falling.

 I smashed onto the ground and was released from captivity. I stood up to find my good friend James Sherwin along with James Furler. They were alike in name and hair style but differed in some key issues.

“Yeah, thanks” I said.

“This isn’t the time for sweet talking” Furler said

‘Yes, I used my last bullets on that raptor. We must take refuge in the back rooms” Sherwin said in a noble sort of way.

“Guorgh!” Came a shriek from the other side of the store, which wasn’t very far away at all.

The trio almost broke into a run, but before they could a group of raptors emerged from the clothes and ran straight past them, knocking them over.

The raptors disappeared into ladies wear. This only meant one thing; the store was now open. Not even the raptors were brave enough to face the customers. They were monstrous in appearance and odour.

James Sherwin stood and turned, he stared at Chris and James (the other one)

“Run!” They all took for the stock room.

Chris bolted down the path, it was coming off. “No time for maintenance you fool!” Furler shouted grabbing Chris by his collar and wrenching him onto his feet.

James Sherwin was ahead of the other two and as he passed the rows of footwear, where the shoes were, the ugliest customer you ever saw stepped out holding a pair (2) of thongs.

 James stopped in shock and stood there, face to face with the ‘human’. He wanted to reach out and strangle it, as to defend himself, but was a spell of fear.

The customer’s mouth opened to speak but as it did so its head exploded.

The remaining body fell to the floor and James turned to see Chris holding his gun up.

“There’s no time to thank me, we must run” Chris said before James could speak.

The boys ran around the corner, sliding outwards as they did.

They could see it, the way to the stock room. Running faster than a bullet (which isn’t really that fast at all, bullets don’t have legs so they can’t even run).

 Furler tripped over something, it was an arm. He followed the arm up to a face, it was Pat’s. He was whiter than all of the frequencies of light combined.

“James, I want to tell you something before I die” Said Pat with a tear running down his cheek (tears don’t have legs either, so this is impossible) “I love you”

“No, don’t say that! I don’t want my last memories of you alive as being ‘one of the boys’!” But it was too late. Pats eyes rolled into the back of his head and he shrivelled up, the way that pappadums do when you put them in the microwave. This was natural for a retail employee; it was the all of the radiation that the stupid fluorescent lights gave off.

 James stood up to see Chris and the other James being eaten alive by a fat customer. Chris’s bullets weren’t strong enough to penetrate the skin of this one.

“That’s it, no more Mr Nice Furler” James said as he stood up and was stepped on by an even fatter customer who didn’t see him.

THE END

It was early one winters morning when Alfred, an elderly wealth ridden gentleman, arose from bed (in no way unusual to the norm) and proceeded downstairs to his kitchen.

Alfred’s mood that morning had left him with a craving for baked apple sporting a cored stuffed with sultanas and a sprinkling of cinnamon.

Alfred picked a large Granny-Smith from the fruit bowl upon the kitchen counter and an apple corer from inside the top drawer. He cored the fruit and with the sultanas sourced from the pantry, stuffed the to be dish.

After the initial construction of the dish, it was placed into the microwave on high for thirty seconds. It was during this time Alfred removed a shaker of cinnamon from the spice rack and a carton of custard from the fridge.

The microwave beeped, the baked apple was removed, sprinkled with cinnamon before being girt with custard. Even though the meal was complete Alfred still needed a spoon. He reached into the top drawer (from whence the corer once lay) and pulled out a large shining silver spoon but in his haste and excitment, dropped it upon the floor. It bounced one and ended near the rear of the fridge.

Alfred went after the rogue cuttlery in a fashion described best only as excited however as he did so something from behind the fridge caught his attention. It was a purple vine looking creation attached to a vintage potato. Sending his pacemaker into a state of shock, Alfred’s heart skipped several beats.

 Memories of a potato that had been dropped months before flashed through his mind before he could react. As he turned to escape, the vine lashed out at his leg and wrapped around it tight before pulling him into the dark abyss behind the fridge and then finally.

It was this old, wizened potato that was unfortunately the end of wealthy Alfred. The potato, using its purple vines, had leeched all the life that was left in poor Alfred to then become living, as a human once more, whilst leaving Alfred in the form of a fresh and handsome potato.

 The Potato emerged from behind the fridge, took a coat from the rack beside the front door and left, leaving behind a once wealthy elderly innocent human and a delicous baked apple

It was no longer Alfred and the Potato, it was Alfred the Potato.