Rolling Eyes Fall

It was ten minutes past closing time, and I had my brightest, fakest smile on while trying to get the last customer out of my store. No sir, I cannot look up a book on the computer if all you know is the cover was red when you saw a poster for it 5 years ago. No sir, “I think it was about the cold war and a detective who drank too much but maybe it was something else” does not help me at all. Look sir, all my historical thrillers are on this shelf. Does anything ring a bell? No? Was it made into a movie? You don’t know? Oooookaaaay then, I’m sorry to inform you that we are already past closing time, here’s the store number, if you remember the title give us a call and we’ll order it for you if it’s still available. Thank you, good evening to you too sir, goodbye. Yes you have your umbrella, it’s right here in your hand sir. Okay bye bye.

I sighed and gave my cashier the biggest eyeroll I could manage before locking the door and turning over the sign that previously said ‘come in, we’re open!’. I heard the coins clanking in the coin counting machine (do these have a name? I don’t know. Coin counting machine is pretty self-explanatory and I’ve never bothered to check if they were actually called that), signifying that Alice had started to sort her cash drawer. I would only need to take out the profits of the day, make sure she had enough cash for tomorrow, and send her home. I went through the motions mechanically, only thinking about the nap I was about to have in the breakroom. It was going to be glorious. I really needed it if I wanted to be alert for the night shift.

Oh, yeah. We’ve got a night shift here. It’s my store’s most… peculiar aspect. We close at 6pm, but we open again at 11, up until 5am. Then we open again at 10am. So when I said ‘nap’ earlier, I actually meant the first half of my night, since I am working both shifts. Yes, I live in my store. Please buy books instead of reading stuff on the Internet, I would really love to be able to afford another employee.

So there I was, counting money fully on autopilot, daydreaming about drinking a nice cup of herbal tea and hugging my pillow, when Alice said something that ruined my plans.

“I forgot to tell you, something weird happened when you were on break.”

I snapped out of my daydream instantly and shot her a questioning glare.

“Yeah, this old lady came in, looking for something about fairy tales. I showed her the section but she didn’t want to have a look there apparently, and she asked me about something from the back. And I was like ‘do you think we’re hiding books from our customers or something’ so I just told her everything we had was on display in the store but we could order any book we didn’t have if she wanted. And she just shook her head and mumbled something and then she handed me this pamphlet and I was like ‘okay feel free to look around’ and didn’t even look at the pamphlet before shoving it in my pocket because a kid entered the store holding an open juice box and that was a disaster waiting to happen so yeah but that was weird right?”

She had actually run out of breath by the end of her sentence, and I wasn’t surprised. I was pissed though.

“Alice for FUCKS sake. Give me the pamphlet, don’t look at it. I’ll write that you were fired because of the store’s financial situation and give you a glowing recommendation.”

All color drained from the young girl’s face. I wasn’t mad at her, but I was still mad. She was supposed to know the rules. Hell, I even had her train the temps we hired to help around Christmas time. In retrospect, it was a miracle nothing bad had happened.

Okay, I was slightly mad at her. But I really didn’t want to be.

I saw in her eyes that it had finally clicked. She understood the gravity of what she had done, and handed me a crumpled pamphlet from her pocket, making sure to avert her gaze. God damn it. She had one momentary lapse, and it cost me a good cashier. Fucking hell.

“I’m sorry…” she started.

“It’s okay Alice, you didn’t mean to. You were alone on the floor, she was an old bat, it could’ve happened to anyone. You’ll be missed around here, but please don’t visit.”

She nodded. She finally remembered the rules, and she understood that there was no other way.

I put the cash drawer in the safe while she gathered the stuff she had left in the break room. I opened the back door to light a cigarette. She had tears in her eyes as she exited the store. I gave her a smile and clasped her hands in mine.

“You were a good employee, Alice. You’ll do great in a regular bookstore. Don’t doubt yourself and avoid this street for a few weeks. Call me if you run into any trouble, okay?”

“Thank you for the opportunity, boss. I really loved working here.”

“I know you did. Now hurry home. Don’t answer to anyone knocking on your door. Be safe.”

She nodded and scurried away, her backpack bouncing with her steps. I crammed my half-finished cigarette into the already-full-but-I-keep-forgetting-to-empty-it ashtray and went back inside.

The pamphlet was sitting on top of the safe, and as I grabbed it I felt the urge to read it. Nope. In the bin you go. I was accustomed to those old tricks. First rule of working with my clientele is to know when you can’t trust your instincts because something’s fucking with them. Second rule is to trust your instincts. Confusing? Welcome to my life.

So I ended up sitting at my desk typing furiously on my computer instead of napping. I still had a few hours until night shift, but I absolutely had to start interviewing prospective employees in the next couple days – in the meantime I just had to hope one of my part-time employees would like to work a few extra hours. I just have too much work to spend all my time manning the register and keeping the tables neat. While the store isn’t that big, it still is a lot for one person.

I obviously had to update the employee rulebook as well. Just emphasize that you can’t take chances with crazy old people. You never know if they’re truly crazy or something else.

“Never accept anything a customer hands you directly if it’s not (real) money. If they’re promoting something, make them leave any cards, pamphlets, posters at the register. If you end up accepting whatever they gave you, don’t look at it, and come to me immediately.”

Yes, it’s weird. I know it’s weird. Look, I pay my employees a fair enough wage that they make sure to follow the rules. I don’t care if they think I’m crazy. I probably am. It doesn’t matter.

I pressed enter and added:

“If a customer asks if they can see what we have in the back, politely decline and offer them to order whatever book they need. If they persist, come get me.”

God damn it, Alice actually handled this part well. But she grabbed the pamphlet, and I had to protect her.

I don’t write the rules to make my employees better workers. I write them to make sure they survive. The main reason any infraction is cause for termination is that, well, it could be the cause for the actual termination of their existence on Earth. Getting fired from a job is a way better alternative.

Alice accepted the old lady’s pamphlet. It could’ve been anything else. A tissue, a cigarette, a glass of water. She unknowingly made a bargain with whatever the woman was. ‘I gave you something, now I’m free to take something’. Entities like the old lady abide by archaic rules. In a store, this is what applies. I lost a regular day customer that way. The poor lady was watching over her kid, who was merrily making a mess looking through the 3-5 years old section, when a young girl came up to her. “Look miss, look I made a drawing”, she said. My customer grabbed the piece of paper and the girl ran off. A couple days later, posters popped up everywhere in town for a missing toddler.

I was obviously pissed. I’d been waiting to see that little girl again and tell her that business rules applied only between merchant and customers and she had no right to force an innocent, unaware person into a contract. My night clientele is well aware of that, and treasure having a place to find literature enough to not risk jeopardizing the fragile balance between both worlds. Nonhumans can be facetious little shits though, and I’ve never seen that girl again. Some entities enjoy chaos just for the sake of it. This one just danced around the rules, grabbed what she wanted, and ruined two lives. My customer sank into a deep depression and ended up gouging her eyes out during a manic episode. Her toddler was never found, but I don’t think he will grow up to be a respectable, human adult.

I checked the time and decided I could get 2 hours of sleep before having to get the store ready for night shift. So obviously I went to check out who – or what – was knocking on the glass window near the entrance because who needs sleep anyway.

It was an old lady, her wrinkled bloated nose pressed against the glass, her skeletal fingers tapping against it in a rhythmical fashion that was getting on my nerves. She had piercing, blood-injected eyes that were fixed on me and a grin so large it couldn’t possibly be natural.

I didn’t have time to be scared, but I still felt the fear creeping up on my stomach, slowly making its way through my body. No matter how hard I tried to reject it, I couldn’t. Stupid human nature. I adorned my best customer service smile and walked up to the old lady.

“My apologies, you seem to be a bit early. We will be open for business at eleven.”

I didn’t need to yell. I knew she could hear me clearly in spite of the glass separating us.

One… two… three taps on the window. Her already impossibly wide grin grew even wider, revealing rotten teeth sticking out of black, putrid gums. Thick, yellowish saliva was dripping down in strands from her non-existent lips. By the time the corners of her mouth reached her temples, I was sure I would lose my fake confidence and run in the opposite direction. No matter how many times you deal with unnatural entities, being mere centimeters away from a nightmarish mouth full of rot and decay will shake you to your core. I tried to breathe calmly, being secretly thankful for the glass that separated me from what was probably the foulest smell I’d ever submitted my nose to, hoping the old lady would see me standing my ground and respect the rules of business. I could deal with her inside my bookstore, where she would be a customer. I just needed to stay brave and meet her transfixed, unwavering gaze. Her eyes were more blood vessels than pupils, and I found myself focusing on those instead of whatever was moving in her mouth. I did not want to see her tongue, not after seeing the state of her teeth. And I sure as hell did not want to see whatever I clearly caught moving around her mouth if it wasn’t her tongue. No, her eyes were scary but I could deal with them, no matter how unsettling it was to see them bulge in and out of her head in a slow motion, almost as if they were breathing. The glass became foggier and foggier on her side due to her heavy, animalistic panting, but I kept my gaze straight, only catching glimpses of fog and movement in my peripheral visions. If I were to treat her like an animal, I needed to assert myself as the alpha. I don’t yield to rude, entitled customers, and I wouldn’t yield to rude, entitled nonhumans breaching the unspoken contract that allowed them to enjoy my store.

After what felt like forever, she stopped tapping on the window. Her grin reverted back to a normal, almost friendly smile. She blinked, soggy wrinkled eyelids covering those eyes I had stared at for far too long.

“I guess I’ll see you when you’re open, then”. In spite of the glass panel separating us, I felt her putrid breath against my ear as she whispered her parting words.

Just like that, she turned and left.

Understandably, I was not looking forward to seeing her during the night shift. My regular customers were unsettling enough, I did not want to add the batshit-insane-nightmarish-grandma to the list.

I’m a business owner. The customer may not be always right, but they are always my priority. I will have to open tonight, because while some may not consider books to be a necessity, I guarantee you that it is vital not only for my business, but for some of my night customers that I open every night. I complain about my life a lot, but some of them face issues they can’t simply look up on the internet nor ask a friend or even a therapist. They may urgently need something from the night inventory, and I will do my best to provide it for them. I’ve always loved being a bookseller, but helping nonhumans find whatever fits their very specific needs has given me a sense of purpose I’m not ready to give up just yet.

I will open tonight. And I will protect my business and its rules, to ensure that I can open tomorrow night.

With his one eye, he darts back over to the underling, his head tilted in a way that his seemingly greasy, yet clean and well-kept, hair wouldn’t get in the way of his good eye.

Everything about this man screamed one yen shy of 10 trillion yen, even though in his pockets, maybe only a couple hundred thousand just for the week, perhaps the month. With his leather gloved hands, he brings the two together as he gently flicks the accumulated ash into the container, making sure no wayfaring cigarette particles found their way on his bare chest.

“I can tell you right now, they ain’t rumors. They’re as real as you and me sitting in this room,” he said, his Kansai dialect somewhat slipping.

“So then, does that mean he could beat you, Aniki?” Asked the quivering minion.

“Yep. He can. And he has. On multiple occasions, actually. Why,” he brings the cigarette to his lips to drag it and then as quickly as he pulled, he flicks the spent bud over to the trashcan with ease, covering about ten meters in distance. “Right when he came back from the joint, he was so bent out of shape, that was the only time I could ever get a chance at beating him. But even then, I was still holding back.”

He exhales the last bit of smoke from his lungs.

“Jeez... what a fucking monster.” The young gangster lowered his head in disbelief, but then raised it again and looked at his superior perplexingly. “Wait, you went easy on him? Why’d you do that?”

The golden snakeskin jacket started to tense and gave off a light squeal as the leather began to rub against itself. “Because I wanted to fight him at his full strength. I wanted to fight the Dragon of Dojima himself.”

He then gave an exasperated sigh. Placing the ashtray on the table, he then leans back and puts an arm over his forehead, slightly covering his eye. “But ain’t fun when he’s just a flabby shell o'vis former self, so I had to give 'im a handicap.” He then put his arm down onto the rest. “But I definitely gave 'im the full package at the beginning,” he then got the mad look in his eye, “just so he knew what he was up against.”

The fledgling gangster was taken aback a bit at the sight of his boss’s crazed glare. “Uh... r-right, Aniki...”

“Hooo, boy, I still remember those eyes, those fiery eyes, and that aura! Man, I can’t tell you how much my blood was rushing just to get a shot at him!” He was almost out of his seat, stomping and stamping, getting excited from the memory of a time long ago. Suddenly, he fell back into a solemn and melancholic mood as he leaned back onto the chair, his eye now half-opened.

“But it’s been years since I’ve heard any news. I tell ya, when he wants to disappear, he just vanishes without a trace. And when he wants ya ta find him, he’ll show himself. He really is like a ghost, a myth.”

A dense silence filled the room as the seasoned gangster stewed in his memories. The countless times, encounters, and experiences he shared with this prolific man.

“Uh... Aniki... Does... Does that mean... You know... Like you and him... You both are best friends or something?”

The silence returned. Suddenly, without opening his lips, he gave a soft and brief chuckle. “Out of all the people I’ve met in this life, he’s the one who has the most respect from me.”

The silence then deafened the room.

“After all, once you hear him singing Bakamitai, all bets are off. That man has the voice of a velvet angel.”

“...Eh?” The young man looked at his better, not understanding what he just said.

“You know, that song from the ‘80s? Yeah, he sang that song and I just happened to be outside the bar he sang it in.” He looked at the newbie, his good eye now intense, as if detecting a hint of doubt from his underling.

“O-Oh, r-really? The Dragon of Dojima was singing karaoke? H-How bizarre...”

The aura of murderous intent quelled as he looked up at the ceiling. “Kid, when you’re in this line of work, you’ve gotta let off some steam every now and then. Even the Dragon of Dojima needs to have a hobby or two... Ah, speaking of which, you ever heard of ‘pocket racing’?” He asked as he then glanced over at the newbie.

“Oh... isn’t that with those motorized car models that you can customize and whatnot? Yeah, I’ve heard of it.”

“Well, I used to partake in that, too. But mainly because I wanted to beat him at his own game.”

“W-wait... so even he invested in that?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. He may have sank a billion yen easy in buying the most exotic parts. It’s crazy how dedicated he is to a hobby.”

“A... A b-b-b-billion? On toy cars?”

“Hey!” He straightened up in his chair, his eye growing crazed by the moment. “A billion is pennies! And they ain’t toy cars! They’re models!” At the last syllable, he swiftly smacks the unknowing gangster on the top of his head. “Don’t disrespect me like that again, ya hear?!”

“Sorry, Aniki! Sorry! Sorry!”

He then sighed and fell back in his seat, somewhat annoyed. “Ah never mind, you wouldn’t get it.”

He then groaned. “It’s so damn BORING.”

He then started to zone out as he softly started to hear something in the back of his mind.