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skeletonbunni · 5 months ago

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When Life Gives You Skeletons: Chapter 1: The Customer Service Blues

One day things can be going (relatively) fine, and the next, you've lost your job, your home, and all of your possessions. When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade, right? What if life gives you skeletons instead?

(Warning: domestic violence)

The worst part of customer service, in your opinion, is the customers, followed in a close second by the concept of service in the form of appeasing the aforementioned customers regardless of how ridiculous their complaints are. Still, rent, bills, and student loans require funds, so here you are with a friendly smile plastered onto your face asking an elderly woman what you can help her with today. Your eyes dart nervously to the clock on the screen in front of you. Your coworker still hasn't returned from his break, and your shift ends in less than five minutes. That's plenty of time to handle one little old lady, right?

You couldn't be more wrong.

She introduces herself by telling you how long she's been shopping at this store location (longer than you've been alive, according to her) and how she's severely disappointed with the declining quality of her shopping experiences. You apologize, stopping yourself from suggesting that she just shop elsewhere in time for her to scold you for interrupting.

Apparently she intends to monologue about everything that has ever been wrong with the world in general and this shopping trip in particular. She's got quite the laundry list of grievances and no time for your hollow platitudes. Your customer service smile never wavers despite the fact that the last few seconds of your shift are ticking by, and you have a bus to catch to get home.

Grandma Grumps-A-Lot takes issue with the cleanliness of the store (litter in the parking lot!); you nod. There's no peanut butter either (a travesty)! You explain that due to a recall for salmonella contamination, most of the peanut butter had to be removed from the shelves. She sharply chastises you for interrupting again and argues that you (personally?) should have a contingency plan for salmonella contamination. Recalls, you want to shout. Recalls are a contingency plan for salmonella contamination. You swallow a frustrated sigh. Just. Keep. Smiling.

You spot your coworker returning from his break, but you've already started working with the elderly woman. You can't just walk away while she's in the middle of a sentence, as tempting as the thought may be. Your coworker shoots you a sympathetic glance as he steps behind the service counter. Meanwhile, the agitated old lady has moved on to a new topic.

"I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw that new Monster Foods section there in the Specialty Foods aisle! Why would you sell items for monsters? Nobody wants those things shopping at our grocery stores!" She pauses as if waiting for you to agree with her, but you are more than happy to be one more disappointment tacked onto her day.

"We strive to provide the best selection of grocery products to all of our valued customers, regardless of species," you reply in a saccharine sweet voice. Monsters emerged from the Underground over five years ago, and Ebbott City was a melting pot of cultures already. Why did some people still have such a problem accepting them? You'd actually enjoyed watching monster customers start visiting the store! Besides, management hadn't removed any human products to make room for the items; they only reduced the on-hand amount of certain, less-popular items. Nobody really needs to buy sixty boxes of gluten-free penne at a time. Forty boxes is plenty.

The elderly woman scowls, narrowing her already-beady little eyes. "I don't appreciate your tone, Missy! You must be one of those types." She turns to your coworker for confirmation, but he simply shrugs. With no one to support her anti-monster rhetoric, she switches topics.

"You've also raised prices again." She waves her receipt at you as if expecting you to be able to read the tiny print on a moving object. She begins pointing at individual lines of the receipt and listing the price differences one by one. "I'm on a fixed income. I can't afford to spend more and more every month on groceries."

You can relate. You've been feeling the grocery sticker shock just the same as everyone else, so you are genuine in your response, not that it placates her. "I'm sorry, but unfortunately there's nothing I can do about how the store sets its prices."

"Maybe you should call someone over who can do something then," she snaps.

Finally, an opportunity to make your escape! You turn to your coworker and ask him to call a manager over for your dissatisfied customer, then apologize in the same saccharine tone as earlier, stating that you've reached the end of your shift. With the elderly woman still sputtering in disbelief at your flippant behavior, you make a mad dash to the employee area to grab your purse and jacket from your locker and clock out.

A cold autumn rain has already started by the time you leave your workplace. The bus is scheduled to arrive any second now, and you hear the pneumatic hiss of air brakes when you're still halfway across the parking lot. You wave frantically and shout, sprinting towards the bus stop, but the hulking vehicle pulls away before you can reach it.

The person who disembarked from the bus, a cashier from your workplace, shakes her head sadly at you. "Just missed it," she comments unhelpfully, and now you're faced with a dilemma.

You can spend way too much of your hard-earned wages on a taxi or ride-share. You can wait in the store's breakroom in your cold, damp clothes for the next bus which isn't due for over an hour, or you can walk home in the rain for free. The walk will take you almost an hour, but at least you'll be making forward progress. Besides, it's not raining that hard, and you have a jacket! You decide to walk.

It only takes half an hour for you to seriously regret your decision. The overcast sky causes the temperature to drop to downright chilly levels, and the occasional gusts of wind aren't helping. The light rain has become an outright downpour, leaving you soaked through your jacket and clothes, and you're freezing. You hug yourself, rubbing your upper arms and shivering against the cold. You hope that tucking your purse under your armpit at least keeps your phone from getting waterlogged. It's going to be a miserable walk home.

Thankfully an angel arrives, though he's not what you would have expected in a million years. A car pulls to the side of the road, hazard lights flashing. The driver's side door opens, and a skeleton monster steps out, calling to you over the roof of his very fancy and most likely extremely expensive vehicle. "ya look half drowned 'n three-quarters frozen, human. hop in." Thanks to the rain obscuring his features, all you can see of his face are two glowing red eyelights.

Normally, you'd be wary of a stranger offering you a ride, but monsters are supposed to be kind and gentle by nature… and you are half drowned and three-quarters frozen. You open the passenger side door and sink into the leather seat, closing the door quickly behind you to prevent a deluge of rain from pouring in. The skeleton settles back into his seat, pressing a few buttons to get deliciously warm air blowing on you from the vents. Even the seats are heated, pulsing with a gentle warmth against your butt and back.

The skeleton lets you warm up for awhile before he says anything, and when he does speak, it's a simple introduction. "name's red," he rumbles in a deep, gruff voice. You tell him your name with a small, grateful smile. By this time you've noticed his wide grin of shark-like teeth, including a gold-plated one. It matches the gold spikes on the collar around his neck perfectly. This skeleton definitely has a specific look going for him, but you don't judge. You went through a hardcore sequins and glitter phase in high school that you'd rather forget about.

Red holds out his hand to you, but it isn't for a handshake. He's offering you a business card. You scan the card, then reread it more slowly to make sure your eyes aren't playing tricks on you. RED SERIF, Head Engineer, Research and Development, Ebbott Institute of Science and Technology. This guy, this skeleton who is wearing basketball shorts and a well-worn heavy jacket that smells faintly of mustard is the head engineer at the most prestigious engineering school in the country? You're impressed, both by the credentials and the fact that you feel completely at ease around this skeleton monster despite a lifetime of warnings against getting into a stranger's car.

Fingers numb, you struggle (successfully!) to tuck the card into your thankfully mostly-dry purse before turning back to the skeleton. You want to avoid an awkward silence, but you can't think of a good conversation starter because this guy is a literal genius. Instead, you eloquently blurt out the first thing that pops into your head.

“I've never seen a skeleton monster before.” Nice. That's sure to impress him. Before you can die of embarrassment, he chuckles in that rough, deep voice of his.

“always happy t’pop a human’s skeleton cherry.” You snort, not expecting the innuendo. The humor puts you at ease.

You're watching him out of the corner of your eye, your curiosity building. “How do you fill out your clothes like that?” You blurt it out before you realize that he might be sensitive about his physique, but he chuckles again.

“ladies dig th’ dad bod.” Red shrugs. “y'can touch it if ya want.”

You happily accept the invitation, reaching out with a slightly thawed finger to prod the skeleton’s stomach. It feels… normal? There's some give, and even through his shirt, you feel a pleasant warmth radiating from him.

“How?” You make exaggerated hand gestures encompassing the entirety of his somehow both skeletal and squishy body. Thanks to the warmed temperature of your skin and the still frigid dampness of your clothing, your gesturing appendages begin to shake.

Red's sharp-toothed grin widens. Lifting up his shirt and jacket to reveal only bones beneath the fabric, he simply says “magic” and winks.

You ignore your increasing shivering to point out the obvious. “You can wink?!”

“so c'n you.”

“I have eyelids!”

With a deadpan look, Red congratulates you on your eyelids. There's a beat of silence, then you erupt into laughter. Now wearing a smug smirk, the skeleton reaches forward, turning the heating vents on his side of the car towards you and cranking the temperature up to full blast. It feels like heaven.

You bask in the added warmth for awhile before resuming the banter. “You trying to cook me before you eat me, Hannibal?”

Red somehow lifts a brow bone, which you are not even going to ask about at this point, before responding with: “knock, knock.”

You answer automatically. “Who's there?”

“chianti.”

“Chianti who?”

“chianti you help me peel these fava beans?”

The punchline hits its target, and you laugh hard. Red doesn't let up, telling you rapidfire knock-knock jokes until you can barely breathe through your laughter. He switches to regular jokes since you're no longer able to respond to his verbal knocks. You don't even notice how close he's leaning, but then his gruff voice fades to silence.

Suddenly, you find yourself back to reality, sitting in a warm car with a skeleton monster during a downpour… except the harsh pattering of rain has stopped. The clouds begin to dissipate, leaving behind weak evening sunlight that reminds you that you are supposed to be walking home.

Red leans back and settles himself in the driver's seat. He speaks before you manage to gather your thoughts. “now that yer a little drier and warmer, howzabout a ride home?"

You consider the offer. A knight in oh-so-casual armor has swept in on a dark steed-car to rescue you from the perils of inclement weather, and now he wishes to escort you back to your budget castle? Feeling surprisingly safe with Sir Red Serif, you give him directions to your home and buckle up for the ride.

The middle-class area where you work slowly transitions to the low-income neighborhood where you live. Green lawns become brown lawns which eventually become unkempt patches of dirt in front of high-rise brick apartments and tightly crammed together houses with peeling paint and broken windows. Red’s fancy car stands out amongst the collection of native vehicles which are all older than you and have the rust and dents to prove it.

You aren’t ashamed of where you live. It’s certainly not the worst corner of Ebbott City; it’s just where people live when they’re going through hard times, like you. The rent is cheap, and the sounds of barking dogs and arguing families can easily be drowned out with headphones. Living here means you have the opportunity to save up for something better in the future, hopefully not too far in the future.

“Right here.” You instruct Red to park in front of a rundown white one and a half story house with a piece of plywood covering a missing downstairs window. The lack of a car out front lets you know that your upstairs roommates aren't home. They could be working, partying, or even in jail; as long as they aren't eating your groceries or throwing up on your laundry, you don't particularly care.

You turn to your skeleton chauffeur to thank him for the rescue and the ride, but he's staring at you with such intensity in his glowing red eyelights that you forget how to speak for a moment. He blinks somehow (seriously, does he have some kind of bone eyelids?), and the spell is broken.

“Thank you.” You smile warmly at him, unbuckling your seatbelt though you find that you're in no rush to exit the vehicle.

“don't mention it.” Red waves away your gratitude. “seriously, don't mention it. i gotta reputation t’maintain.” His gruff words and rumbling voice make you chuckle.

A fist slams against the passenger window, instantly killing your laughter. You whip your head around just in time to see your door yanked open, revealing your other roommate, Jay. His face is red with rage, and he's yelling at Red.

“Get the fuck away from her, you fucking freak!” Your roommate grabs your upper arm in a painfully tight grip and tries to pull you out of the car, but you trip and end up hitting the hard packed mud with your knees and free hand. Your shoulder wrenches from the impact. The pain intensifies as he drags you to your feet without loosening his death grip.

Jay also doesn't stop berating Red who is suddenly right in front of him, snarling in his face. How did he move so fast and so quietly? You don't have time to ponder this great mystery of the universe because if you don't diffuse the situation, these boys are going to start fighting, and Red doesn't look like a guy who loses brawls.

“Go the fuck back underground where you belong!” Jay releases your arm to give the skeleton monster a hefty shove. Red doesn't budge; he doesn't even take his hands out of his pockets. Your suspicions of his badassery have been confirmed.

“ya talk a big game f’r a guy throwin’ a lady around,” Red growls. His eyelights vanish, and for the first time since meeting him, you realize that he might actually be dangerous. “an’ if y'keep it up, yer gonna have a b a d t i m e.”

Skeleton and human face off, chests almost touching despite the fact that Jay is at least a head taller than Red. The tension of barely restrained violence permeates the air around them. If you don't intervene, you just know something bad is about to happen.

You step between the two posturing males, forcing them apart and bringing their angry focus towards you. Red’s eyelights reignite, and his snarl evaporates. Jay bristles, reaching out to push you aside, but you dodge, not wanting him to set Red off again.

“Red just gave me a ride home because it was raining,” you quickly explain to Jay. Keeping your roommate in your peripheral vision, you then address Red, hoping he understands that you're just trying to keep the situation calm rather than dismissing his kind actions. “Thanks for the ride.”

Turning back to your roommate, you place a hand on his chest, gently pushing him backwards towards your shared home. He grumbles the entire time, and you absently reassure him. Just before you enter the house, you spare a last glance at Red.

The skeleton monster is returning to his car at a pace that can only be described as a trudge. Guilt uses its Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique on you, and you silently promise to find a way to apologize to Red. For now, you've got your sights set on confronting your roommate about his tirade.

The door has barely finished closing behind you, and you're already shouting. “What the fuck, Jay?”

Your roommate throws your words back at you with an added accusation as a bonus: “”What the fuck? How can you choose a monster over me?”

You stare, shocked into a loss for words, but the loss doesn't last long. “I didn't choose a monster over anything! A kind-hearted guy saw me walking in the rain and offered me a ride home. He was being nice, something you obviously know nothing about!”

“I can't believe you fell for that bullshit,” Jay snaps, flopping down on the couch. “Those freaks want you to think they're all sweet and harmless. As soon as we let our guards down, they'll kill us all.” He reaches for something on the coffee table in front of him- a glass bottle of amber liquid. Great. As if his speciesist attitude and short fuse aren't enough, he's throwing literal fuel onto the proverbial fire.

You're too tired, dirty, and hungry to deal with pointless arguments and ridiculous conspiracy theories. As soon as Jay tips back the bottle and takes a long drink, the possibility of reasoning with him goes right out the window… just like one of the end tables went out the front window the last time he drank and started slinging accusations. Hopefully he won't break anything this time.

Grumbling under your breath, you retreat to your bedroom to change into your comfiest oversized shirt, a nice change from your damp, muddy work ensemble. Nobody needs to know you aren't wearing pants; the shirt is long enough that it could be hiding shorts. You creep into the kitchen, ignoring Jay who is yelling at the television for some imagined personal slight. Sure enough, your upstairs roommates have pilfered your supply of microwave meals as well as an entire brand new package of deli meat. Looks like PB&J is what's for dinner.

You munch your sandwich on your way back to your room, and the sweet deliciousness revitalizes you. You fish around in your purse until you find Red's business card, planning to send him an email until you notice that the contact information includes his cell phone number. You dig your own phone out of your purse, and your fingers tap rapidly across the screen. Hooray for texting!

(XXX) XXX-XXXX

You: Hi, this is the soggy human that you gave a ride to earlier. I just wanted to apologize for what happened. My roommate is an asshole and an idiot.

You decide not to wait for a response because the shower is singing a siren song to you with promises of hot, steamy water and luxurious scented soap lather. The shower ends up being so relaxing that you can barely stay awake when you emerge from it. You see a new message alert on your phone, but you ignore it in favor of collapsing onto your bed. Conversations can wait until you've had your hard-earned after work nap!

You awaken with a jolt, sensing that something is off. The door to your room is open, allowing a rectangle of muted light to sneak in from the living room and throw sinister shadows over a hunched figure rifling through the belongings on your nightstand. Even in the dim lighting, you recognize Jay.

Your room should represent privacy and safety, and Jay's intrusion (while you slept!) makes your stomach churn. You try to leap out of bed, but the covers trip you up. You lurch towards your roommate who doesn't seem to care that you've caught him mid-snoop.

“Get out of my room,” you yell, barely regaining your balance before you crash into him. The strong scent of liquor hits you like a freight train. How much did he drink before deciding this was a good idea?

“Are you fucking him?” Jay's voice is low and angry. He throws your phone at you, and you scramble to catch it before it hits the floor.

“Fucking? What?” Your sleep-hazed brain struggles to catch up with your incensed roommate's train of thought. Ignoring you, Jay starts digging in your purse again. “Hey!” Unacceptable!

You reach for your purse, but Jay backs away, out of your bedroom and into the living room. You follow him, right as he begins a loud rant, each word carried to you on an alcohol-soaked breath.

“I knew you were going behind my fucking back. Why else would you turn me down?” You manage to snatch your purse, and after a brief tugging match, Jay releases it. You hope things will cool down now. Nope. “Never thought you were a monster fucker though.” Jay's rage explodes. “Fucking traitor!”

As he screams the word traitor, Jay grabs the front of your shirt and slams you against the wall. He lets go immediately, and once again you think that perhaps things will cool down, though you're shaking from the level of violence your roommate exudes.

“Traitor,” Jay snarls again, smashing a fist into the wall next to your head. You clutch your purse and phone to your chest though they offer no real protection. “Monster fucker!” Another punch to the wall. “Whore!” Jay latches onto your arms and shakes you. This time when he releases you, you're ready.

Throwing yourself forward, you shove Jay backwards with the entire weight of your body and quickly dart into the bathroom. You barely have time to lock the door before he hurls himself into it, making the entire door shake in its frame. The knob rattles as he tries to open it the proper way. Fortunately, the lock is strong. Unfortunately, the door itself is not.

Jay pounds against the door with his fist, causing the wood to strain and splinter. A rain of kicks and punches further weaken the flimsy barrier. You panic as cracks appear and bow inward. He's going to break down the door!

You fumble with your phone, dropping your purse in the process. Your trembling hands can't manage your stupid unlock screen, and your panicked brain doesn't even register the emergency call button. You need to hurry! A fist smashes through the door. Your phone falls from your clumsy hands as you watch Jay tearing the door apart. You drop to your hands and knees to find it.

This time, you manage to get it unlocked, but Jay is forcing his way through the mangled door. You hit the call button reflexively, screaming at Jay to stop.

There's nowhere else to run.

Your roommate's hands close around your throat.

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