8thdayfiction

…and on the 8th day, micro fiction was published on some dude's blog.

Jelly Krimpets

Sam was a cashier at a retail store.

It doesn’t matter which one. It was one of those depressing ones where all the employees wore vests, if you must know.

Sam’s boss was named Raymond, and Raymond had a serious chip on his shoulder about “The War on Christmas”. Because of this, Raymond required all of the store’s employees to say “Merry Christmas”–and only “Merry Christmas”–to customers any time a holiday greeting was appropriate.

Sam didn’t like this, and decided he would rebel in his own small way by saying nonsense phrases that sorta kinda sounded like “Merry Christmas” to customers as they left his checkout line. He figured if anyone ever complained he’d just tell Raymond that the customer must have heard him wrong because who would say nonsense like that instead of “Merry Christmas”?

This was a pretty good plan, since most of the store’s customers were old people.

Each day, Sam chose a different phrase. One day it was “Jelly Krimpets”. Another day, it was “brainy triplets”. The next day, it was “hairy moles face”.

Then, “mealy grits plate”.

“Cherry juice drips”.

“Dairy Chipwich”.

“Scary blimps trips”.

You get the idea.

As for Sam, he probably got fired eventually. I don’t know.

Because that’s not what this story is about.

It’s about what happened five years later. That was when Earth was destroyed by the sentient robot aliens of the planet Zirconia, the faux diamond planet.

The Zirconian robots were digging through the rubble of the trashed planet when one of them found a scrap of paper from the journals of Melvin Trundle.

Melvin was an old man who, before Earth had been destroyed, frequented the store where Sam worked, and had also faithfully kept a daily journal for decades.

The page the Zirconians found was from an entry Melvin had written approximately five years prior; the entirety of the text was as follows:

Went to the store today–the kid there wished me a “Benny Hinn’s vest”. I’m scared for this younger generation. A bunch of dopes and goof-offs, is what they are.

Unfortunately for the Zirconians–a race of sentient robots that were as superstitious as they were deadly–the scrap of paper they’d found cut off after the words “I’m scared”.

Upon seeing this, word quickly and incorrectly spread among the Zirconians that they had invaded and fire-bombed a planet ruled by a deadly vest which was somehow linked to this mysterious “Benny Hinn” fellow.

The Zirconians proceeded to abandon Earth forever but never got past their fear of Benny Hinn’s vest. This led to finger-pointing, recriminations, and infighting amongst the people of Zirconia, which eventually escalated into civil war, which in turn quickly escalated into genocide, and within a few short decades, the Zirconians had killed themselves off and were no more.

THE MORALS OF THE STORY?

1) Benny Hinn–with or without vest–is to be avoided at all costs.

2) No good comes from a belief in a “War on Christmas”.

So, Happy Holidays!

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