| Voice of the Neopian Pound |
Circulation: 197,486,709 |
Issue: 985 | 16th day of Relaxing, Y25 |
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New Series
 | Return to White River"The bell that hung above the door still rang out with a cheerful clang, blissfully unaware of the emptiness of the darkened shop..."
by hzoo_26 |
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"Yooyu are Appreciated" by swordlilly
The lines at the slushie stand seemed never-ending. Cheryl Shelly the Red Tuskaninny slid from machine to customer, customer to machine, endlessly: Zeenana slush, Jumbleberry slush, Chokato, green pink blue pink green blue blue.
Sometimes, when she was hours into her shift, it seemed to her as if all the customers who came were just three individuals, copied over and over. One roared impatiently, with green slits for eyes and a very wide mouth. One frowning, purple and disgruntled, puffing. And one pink-fisted, moving forward demanding, demanding.
Cheryl served them all with the plastic smile she'd been taught to paste on her face. Her hands were sticky with the slush that inevitably spilt from time to time, and she washed them during the breaks that never seemed long enough. The ache in her arms and waist was always worst at the start, but after enough time had passed she no longer felt it. Same with the scent of the fruit and the whir of the machines - annoying at first, but finally just a constant in the atmosphere, a hum, barely perceptible.
When would the shift end? Her eyes drifted upward. Why was there a change in the air? The hum was receding. There was a beeping sound..
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