The Cosmic Slip
It was a rainy Tuesday afternoon when Conor stepped into the cavernous store. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, illuminating towering shelves stacked with industrial-sized ketchup bottles, family packs of toilet paper, and enough frozen pizza to feed a small army. Conor’s mission: to stock up on essentials for the impending apocalypse (or at least the next snowstorm).
As he rounded the corner near the dairy section, his cart laden with enough cheese to build a mozzarella fortress, Conor’s foot hit something slippery. His legs shot out from under him, and he executed a perfect split, arms flailing like a startled octopus. The culprit? A puddle of what appeared to be… pee pee. Yes, you read that right—pee pee. Conor’s face contorted in disgust as he tried to regain his balance.
But this was no ordinary puddle. As Conor struggled to stand, the universe hiccuped. The linoleum floor rippled like a disturbed pond, and the air crackled with otherworldly energy. Shoppers froze mid-reach for jumbo-sized cereal boxes, their eyes wide with terror.
Conor’s slip had torn a hole in the fabric of reality—a cosmic void that defied the laws of physics, common decency, and membership discounts. He felt himself being pulled toward it, his limbs elongating like taffy. The void whispered secrets in ancient tongues, promising forbidden knowledge and unlimited samples of artisanal hummus.
“Help!” Conor shouted, but his voice echoed strangely, as if it were bouncing off distant galaxies. The void yawned wider, revealing glimpses of eldritch horrors—tentacles, eyes, and teeth that defied geometry. One particularly polite horror even tipped its hat at him.
Conor’s life flashed before his eyes: the Excel spreadsheets, the failed attempts at sourdough baking, the unresolved tension with his neighbor’s cat. Was this how it all ended? Slipped on pee pee, sucked into the void, and devoured by beings beyond comprehension?
He had one chance. Conor reached into his pocket and pulled out his Costco membership card. With trembling hands, he swiped it through the void, hoping for a discount on existential dread. To his surprise, the void hiccuped again, and a cosmic receipt emerged. “Congratulations!” it read. “You’ve unlocked the ‘Eternal Abyss’ reward tier. Enjoy your infinite torment!”
And just like that, Conor ceased to exist. His atoms scattered across dimensions, his consciousness folded into a Möbius strip of despair. The eldritch horrors debated whether to rate his slip on Yelp.
As for the puddle of pee pee, it remained, a testament to the absurdity of existence. Costco management put up a caution sign: “Slippery When Eldritch.” And somewhere in the multiverse, Conor’s ghost muttered, “At least I got my money’s worth.”
@conorvoice.com thank you for the support and here's a special story for you :) #ShortStory #Eldritch #Horror adjacent.
— The Spooky Doctor (@lucidillusions.in) Aug 16, 2024 at 2:37 PM
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