Endless fiction, mystery shopping edition.

Now, little lady, get back inside we're not done yet, I want to show YOU the good stuff I keep for special occasions...OMG, no one knows I'm here, will I get out alive, I ask myself as I follow the tattooed man down the stairs to a room with a bed.....what will become of me, and I start to shake and cry as the 6'5 tattooed man takes my hand.....

Live consciously....


Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 01/24/2018 05:02AM by Irene_L.A..

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... I remembered that week-long shop in the Maldives where I met Dolph Lundgren and got some very personal lessons - on self defense. With a fond recollection of a long romantic week, my left knee came up hard and fast with a brutal crunch that likely relocated his family jewels as my right hand gripped a greasy beard, yanking hard and driving his tattooed forehead into the nearest bedpost. "I said I needed a receipt. I don't wish to ask again." With a voice several octaves higher than I had remembered, the cowering beast squeaked, ...

Hard work builds character and homework is good for your soul.


Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 01/24/2018 05:17AM by MFJohnston.
... "Damn right you do. I was just gonna show you my tattoo sleeve collection. I got some real nice ones. But you went all ballistic. Doc Shrinko can give you a receipt, I mean scrip"...

My garden in England is full of eating-out places, for heat waves, warm September evenings, or lunch on a chilly Christmas morning. (Mary Quant)
Got the receipt but now worried about the long report. How do I explain in my narrative what went down without making the ladies at Maritz swoon and grab their pearls? Maybe I should sample this brownie...
Holy Moly that hit the spot. I'm mellow, hungry and sleepy. Who cares about the report. But wait, I ...
forgot to take a picture of the brownie!! With a groan, I ...

Hard work builds character and homework is good for your soul.
Now have to go back or this nightmare report won't be accepted...I grab my camera, jump into my Mustang and head back, hoping the tattoo guy will have a day off....I'd hate for him to think I've got the hots for him. The brownie was o.k. so,I head back for another, to find not one, but two tattoo guys standing in front...hum

Live consciously....
"That's her!" blurted a shrill voice from another room. The two large tattooed meatheads before me gave pause and took a step back and the uglier one said, "We don't want any trouble, Ma'am. Ol' Dirk might never walk straight again and we don't want any part of that."

I then noticed that their hands were held up defensively. Reading their name tags, I thought quickly and glared at them menacingly, loosening my cashmere sweater in the process. "SoCalSteve," I snarled with my eyes affixed on the uglier of the two , "Get me a brownie."

A terrified squeal from the other room pierced the air, "Just do it!"

"This ain't no Nike commercial," the slightly-less-ugly one on the right interrupted. With his dander (and body odor) up, he stepped forward and ...

Hard work builds character and homework is good for your soul.
said: no one's here to hurt you, calm down, but you know we don't give out receipts. Why would anyone need a receipt,tell me who you are and what's going on:

Live consciously....
Fine I'll tell you! I'm a receipt collector. It is my life passion in collecting receipts to all the establishments I go to. It fills the void in my life because I have nothing else going on for me so receipts provide meaning to my life. Without it I'm nothing! (Those acting classes finally paid off). Please give me a receipt or...opens up vest to reveal C4 triggered to blow... I'll blow this place up!

And I'll be the Queen of England. Follow me. *leads the way to a back room* Now, you wait right there. You can watch me while I get the receipt book and write out a receipt for you. The receipt book is right over there (points at bookcase). *Jibber jabbers while walking* So, you seemed kinda, I dunno, not real with it. But you really showed me that you got what it takes. You almost scared me once or twice, and that's really saying something. Now see? Here I am at the bookcase that holds the receipt book. You can watch me while I get you a receipt... blah blah... *sound of clanking and lock mechanism* *In the twinkling of an eye, they are gone! Vanished!*...

My garden in England is full of eating-out places, for heat waves, warm September evenings, or lunch on a chilly Christmas morning. (Mary Quant)
The receipt collector and his little briefcase have disappeared. I put a bottle of malbec in the fridge. The intent was to let it chill for 20 minutes. Good intentions go the way of receipt collectors. I open it, pour a hefty glass, and sit down to...

"I told myself to quit you; but I don't listen to drunks." -Chris Stapleton
I sip my wine while waiting for the receipt to appear, now thinking the only way I'll get it is if the big man brings it to me and I don't mean the tattoo'd guy, I mean the "Big man in the sky". The room seems spooky with customers to and fro buying their brownies, and happleesly going slowly around the store. I have to dwell on how sad these lives must be, depending on a substance and acting like there isn't a care in the world. I go back to my wine, thinking I'll never get that bloody receipt......

Live consciously....


Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 01/30/2018 11:49PM by Irene_L.A..
I e merged from my sad reverie when the customers perked up. They turned slowly toward the far wall. They cocked their heads and munched brownies sideways. "Did you hear that?" someone hissed. I walked in their direction, interested in what was happening near the far wall. I heard faint whimpers and scratching sounds, as if the wall were suffering a bad case of the fleas. "Heeeeeeeeeelp... can anyone hear me... oooohhhhhh". Was it the wine, or was it the wall? Or, was it something more sinister...

My garden in England is full of eating-out places, for heat waves, warm September evenings, or lunch on a chilly Christmas morning. (Mary Quant)
Something sinister is definitely going on, no receipt, excuses, running away, and the mystery of it all. This is a Mystery shop in the deepest sense of the word. I'm sure if this is accepted I will get a bronze medal for bravery.
Oh oh, here comes Mr. tattoo with yet another weird looking guy wearing a wrestling medal around his waist.
Does it get any better.....

Live consciously....


Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 01/30/2018 11:54PM by Irene_L.A..
Yes it does! The guy with the wrestling medal is none other than Diamond Dallas Page. He waves some DVD's in the air and magically yoga mats and water bottles appear everywhere. He orders us all into Downward dog and then into plank and just as I think I'm going to die before my arms get through holding this sad body up I see on the floor peeking out from under the next guy's yoga mat, a receipt! OMG could it be?
these browniesjust kicked in oh my g they are so good i feel a little fuzzy i need to get gas my cat is shedding why is there no end to pi and why are my thoughts so random i cant control them what if the super moon causes a major flood i want a pet but i dont knowif i want a dog or a cat meow!

"I told myself to quit you; but I don't listen to drunks." -Chris Stapleton
Meowing led to hissing. Hissing led to clawing. A-up in dog pose, I began to realize why grass-fed is better. Crablike, I alternated clawing with sidling. I reached for the possible receipt but missed it. The doggy-breath dude there whacked my paw, I mean hand, and I hurried away from him. I really didn't want to fight like cats and dogs here. Somehow, I made it to the far wall. I hissed, and I mewled, and I whacked, and I clawed. All of a sudden, the wall gave way! I giggled and yelled, "Tiiiiimmbeeeer!" and a person on the other side of the wall....

My garden in England is full of eating-out places, for heat waves, warm September evenings, or lunch on a chilly Christmas morning. (Mary Quant)
caught me and in an almost normal voice said, no worries darlin, I got you. here's the receipt you've been looking, for, it's a little worn and battered, but it's yours, youv'e earned it.....I looked at him, almost humbled, grabbed it, said thanks while hurrying out of there.....

Live consciously....
and did a double take. The words came out of his mouth in rainbow font! And, a few syllables seemed odd. Like a code, maybe. Why should 'little' be in size 36 font and in acid green? Why was 'the receipt' in the exact color of a winking blue eye? This was too weird. And, why did the receipt say, 'Rx 8 wines daily, to be taken with food'? I walked back to where he was standing...

My garden in England is full of eating-out places, for heat waves, warm September evenings, or lunch on a chilly Christmas morning. (Mary Quant)
This isn't the right receipt, my brownies are not on here, I can't use this....tsk tsk, not the right receipt huh, said 6'5 tattoo, back again, the gift that keeps on giving. Should I just take a loss, but the stubborn me said, find that damn receipt lady, so I looked at him and shouted, I'm not kidding get me the receipt or I'll......

Live consciously....
... come back tomorrow... and the next day... and the next day and.... I'm sure you don't want that." Nodding toward the back room as we listened to the soft whimpers of the now-shrill-voiced-behemoth on the back room, I added in a flat voice, "Get me that receipt or join him."

Suddenly recognizing that his bluff had been called, all color (even from the tattoos) suddenly drained from his face and his voice went horse. "Of course," he wheezed... Clearly defeated, he handed me a previously unnoticed white sheet of paper and retreated behind the counter. As I verified that it was, in fact, the receipt, my phone rang. I glanced and the caller ID and saw that it was ...

Hard work builds character and homework is good for your soul.
Maritz. Again. I dismissed the call and...
No sooner than the call went to voice mail the phone rang again. This time the caller ID said Marketforce. I was in no mood to talk to them, either. That message soon showed up in my voice mailbox. I'd delete both without listening when I got home. Now to find the door and get out of here!

Happiness is not a goal; it is a by-product. Eleanor Roosevelt
I checked every inch of wall and floor. There Was No Door!...

My garden in England is full of eating-out places, for heat waves, warm September evenings, or lunch on a chilly Christmas morning. (Mary Quant)
I realized that there must be a secret door, hidden to the naked eye. As I ran my hands over the smooth walls I noticed a small seam that was a different texture from the rest of the walls. Note to self - remember to put that in the report along with the general filthiness of the walls. Should I snap a quick pik? Was it in the guidelines? Cannot remember anything after that brownie. I pushed on the wall and a door opened into...
an enormous room with pot plants growing all over, what a find, I said to self as I thought about getting a reward for cracking open a pot despensury, maybe the largest in the state. I could work with the police and give names/descriptions and go down in history, but wait, this is now legal, oh , what a situation as I remember I'm unable to talk about my find, pre instructions of the job.....

Live consciously....
... so I whistle Dixie and start working...

My garden in England is full of eating-out places, for heat waves, warm September evenings, or lunch on a chilly Christmas morning. (Mary Quant)
On counting the individual varieties and how many plants there are of each variety. Are they neatly aligned in rows and fronted? Are there any holes (empty spaces)? Are there weeds or trash in the landscape? Are the plants fertilized? Watered? Are they visually appealing? Do they have professionally printed name tags? All is looking pretty good when suddenly....
someone laughed. They started small, with a dainty titter. They advanced into a hefty guffaw. Finally, the roaring was so loud that the plants looked like green Solid Gold Dancers grooving to Shake, Rattle, and Roll. Three figures in head-to-toe camo (including leaves on their heads) materialized from shadows and screamed. "On the ground!"... "Dammit, Benny, they just tickled me. You know how sensitive I am"... "Shut up, you yutzes! We gotta get rid of this one"...

Like a ventriloquist, I threw my voice and hissed, "Let me do that. I wanna get rid of her, too. She been after my man! I don't like that!"

The one named Benny shrugged and looked at the others. Benny said, "Okay, but here's the deal. She been after my orchids! I keep them hidden, but if she got this far, who knows what she'll find next."

Still hissing, I told them my plan. "We gonna scare the scrap outta her. Follow along wit me. 'Come on, everybody... let's do the twist!'. "Right hand on left wrist. Left wrist on other dude's head..." So we twisted, we turned, and we got those plants right offa' those heads. Next, we did the Hippy, Hippy Shake. While they shook, I gathered up the plants, disguised myself, and disappeared into the greenery...

My garden in England is full of eating-out places, for heat waves, warm September evenings, or lunch on a chilly Christmas morning. (Mary Quant)


Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/07/2018 04:18AM by Shop-et-al.
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