Quick snack run, that was all this was.
Steven had left the house with a rumbling stomach, drove to the nearest gas station with a plan formulating in his head, parked at the pump and stepped out with a mission.
Chips. Not just any chips, Sour Cream & Onion Pringles. That was the taste lingering on his tongue like a phantom sensation. Part of him wondered if he'd just licked something weird, but that couldn't have been the case. Why would he lick something weird? He was scared of licking a lollipop he'd taken his eyes off of for longer than thirty seconds.
He pushed the thought to the back of his mind as he opened up the glass door leading into the convenience store. The air conditioning hit him, made him glad he was wearing his jacket despite never really taking it off in the first place. It had pockets for everything he needed, and did its basic job of keeping him warm.
..And it kept people from asking about things that weren't their business.
The cashier greeted him, which he regarded with a chipper, "morning!" as he walked into the little aisle he remembered the chips being in. His memory did not fail him, this he knew for sure. He'd been buying snacks from this gas station since he and Dad had moved into the area.
By his flawless logic that meant that the very spot he was coming up on, the center of the aisle, would absolutely, without any kind of doubt, be where the chips he craved were–
"Out of stock?" He gasped out under his breath. Right where the Sour Cream & Onion Pringles should have been might as well have been a pit leading down to the fiery pits of the underworld.
Or, you know, an empty spot on the shelf. An empty spot that mocked him. Ooh, if he knew the jerk who bought the last one he'd shoot that can of Pringles such a longing glance. And do nothing else because he was a coward and actually getting mad at someone over a can of Pringles was pretty unreasonable.
Mad he was, but with no culprit in sight he was forced to slink away empty-handed.
Actually, he bought a bottle of Coke. Because if he just walked out without buying anything he'd look like he was shoplifting and then the cashier would call the police and they'd treat him with unnecessary cruelty and the whole debacle would leave an awful stain on his perfect, clean record.
He opened up his soda as he walked out, defeated.
No Pringles. Seriously? Did people even eat Pringles? Clearly if it was the one thing that was out of stock. There was no way it'd be out of stock at the place down the street, right? Right. Good idea, Steven. Have you told yourself how smart you are lately? Very smart.
Only after he'd gotten into his car and stuck the key into the ignition did the gas gauge catch his eye, and he got back out to put ten bucks into gas.
After that, it was a short drive to the place.
Just another convenience store. The parking lot was empty save for an empty grocery bag blowing across it, which he couldn't resist the urge as someone who cared about the environment to chase down and stuff into the trash can by the door. He took a bottle of hand sanitizer from his jacket pocket to take care of those germs as he walked into the place.
A simple, "hi," was directed toward the cashier this time. No time for pleasantries, he was a man with a plan and also he was hungry and he wanted food now rather than later. If you counted potato chips as food. If you counted Pringles as potato chips. They weren't actually chips, being made from a potato dough rather than sliced potatoes, but he was American! And eating whatever poison brands put in front of you as long as it tastes good and has colorful packaging is the American way!
Straight to the aisle with the snacks. He had a mission, dang it! He wanted Pringles! And, really, what were the odds of two stores being completely sold out of the thing he wanted? That'd just be insane! It'd be absurd!
It was his horrifying reality. He actually had to take a minute to puzzle over the empty shelf as he walked up to it. Two stores. Sold out specifically of Sour Cream & Onion Pringles.
He looked around for hidden cameras, then looked up in case he'd catch a glimpse of a cruel god snickering at his misfortune. Nope, nobody up there. That made sense.
He bought another bottle of Coke on the way out, told the cashier to have a good one as he left, and let an ounce of his rage out upon his car tire by kicking it. The way his foot just bounced off it was weirdly satisfying. He did it again. Despite craving it a third time, he knew he'd end up hitting the rim and obliterating his big toe, so instead he sighed and climbed into the driver's seat.
New plan: think of a new plan. For the love of whatever, he was getting those chips.
There were more stores within driving distance. One of them was bound to have the specific chips he wanted. He'd just keep checking stores until he found them! Easy peasy!
Steven chucked a sixth bottle of Coke through his car's open window.
Six stores! 7-Eleven had failed him, Kroger, he'd even walked into a Dollar General for his cause! Dollar General was like the storefront in a video game that's just a JPEG texture on a wall you can't interact with! It was a filler store you didn't go into and it didn't have Pringles at all! Not even the orange flavor he forgot the name of and he'd have even settled for those at that point!
He wasn't wasting his entire gas tank on this. One last store. It'd be his Hail Mary except without the space travel and beautiful representation of platonic love. Also, the stakes were much higher. If he failed he'd be snackless! He'd have bought six– probably seven bottles of soda for nothing!
The final store on the chopping block was another gas station. For some reason they had the sign lit during the day, but only one letter worked. The letter L glowed bright as it could against the sun in the center of the sky. The letter E flickered on and off every now and then.
Just before he opened his car door his phone dinged, and he dug it out of his pocket to take care of whatever it was before he went into the store. A text from Dad! He clicked the notification.
Hi Steven
Just wanted to check in because it's been a while since you left
today at 12:04 PM
Huh, it had been a while. Forty-five minutes or so of just looking around different convenience stores. He was quick to respond, didn't want to keep Dad waiting.
They were out of the chips I wanted, I'm checking some other stores right now.
I'll be home soon!
He sent the text, and when Dad responded with a thumbs-up emoji he deemed the conversation over and put his phone away. Well, shoot. Now that he said he'd be home soon he had to be home soon. And here he was planning a route to the next store just in case.
Naturally, the route was scrapped. The plan was thrown out the window and replaced with one hastily drawn on a napkin just before go-time: get chips (or don't), and get home before Dad filed a Missing Persons report. He didn't need the police looking for him– they'd get suspicious about all the Coke he was buying. Cops had guns. Steven didn't like guns.
An electronic "ding-dong!" jingled from the door as he opened it. By the fourth store he'd stopped noticing the air conditioning, either got used to it or went a little too one-track-mind in his search for chips. This time he did notice it; if only because he noticed that he hadn't at first.
This one, he didn't have the same mental map of as he did the places closer to home. The shopping he'd do from there was kept to getting gas and grabbing a bag of gummy bears or a drink or something from the shelves right by the register.
..Not that it took much wandering to find the snack aisle. It was a small store. He did his best not to look at the shelf lined with different chips as he approached it, didn't want any expectations.
While he walked up he got his expectations in order. They'd be there. They had to be. This was his seventh store. If they had any Pringles there was no chance they were just sold out of the ones he wanted. If they were, that was proof that he was living in a simulation designed to put him through as much torment as humanly or inhumanly possible. Inhumanly because something was being very mean to him and considering the cosmic horror he'd endured for the past almost-hour it probably wasn't human.
They're gonna be there, he told himself. The shelf was within his view. There were Pringles. They have to be there.
Original, Salt & Vinegar, Cheddar Cheese (which was the orange flavor he thought of earlier), Empty Spot Labeled Sour Cream & Onion–
He was in misery. Just. The world was a cruel place. And he was stuck in the middle of it all. Standing in an empty gas station convenience store and staring at an empty spot on the shelf. Grieving.
Over chips.
What was even the point? He'd come this far and had nothing to show for it! No, actually, he did have something to show for it, six bottles of Coke! That was like if Christopher Columbus came back with– with a boat full of PlayStation Fours! It's 1492, Columbus, you can't plug that in! Where did you get those, Columbus!? The PlayStation Four won't come out for another 521 years!
He fell to his knees. You're being hysterical, Steven. Pull yourself together.
Slowly, his head turned upward from where it hung staring at the floor, and he grabbed the last can of Cheddar Cheese Pringles on the shelf.