text: [Themes: Apollo 18 Tribute Album, based on songs]
  
  It's Tuesday, 7:39 PM exactly. I clock off at eight. Until then, I'm stuck at the checkout.
  
  A lifetime of shyness by Joey Jones
  
  Checkout (on the stool)
  I'm sitting on a hard stool, back slouched, fingertips poised to grasp dog food cans and punch in numbers on the register. Really though it's so quiet I mostly just look out the window. The big clock above the intercom speakers ticks slowly.
  
  Before me are the many aisles of the supermarket.
  
  [Author's Note: I kinda just sit at the checkout, and the place isn't even all that busy. So why'd you want to play a game about my life? I mean, it's not terrible but it would be so much more if I wasn't shy.]
  
  > Burn button
  (the "Ask Me" button)
  I can just imagine the way the little laminate would crinkle and warp under the flame. I would you know, I really would.
  
  "Delicious tender surloin steaks, 89 cents a pound," our master of ceremony continues.
  
  > examine the clock
  The big clock never seems to move when I look at it. It says it's about twenty to eight.
  
  > check your inventory
  I am carrying:
  a "Ask Me" button (being worn)
  a red uniform (being worn)
  a lighter
  a pack of cigarettes
  a time clock card
  
  "Lean boiled ham, 99 cents a pound."
  
  > examine the window
  Outside the window, all I can see is somebody's Cadillac parked up close.
  
  I spot the nurse, the one from the psychiatric hospital, the one that always buys his groceries here.
  
  > remove the button
  (the "Ask Me" button)
  I never take it off the uniform, I might lose it and then they'd make me pay for a replacement.
  
  "Fresh frying chickens, 29 cents a pound!"
  
  > Smoke
  (the canned goods)
  One day, when I'm all alone I might burn the whole place
  down.
  
  Mildred starts her shift, 7:45 on the dot; she's sitting at the checkout right in front of me.
  
  > examine the nurse
  The nurse is a short, slim man, with the sort of face that can pull off looking deathly tired without coming across too badly: some men turn into almost skeletal trogdolytes, or the black eyes make them look like bare-knuckle boxers. This guy though, he just comes across as a nice man who doesn't get enough sleep.
  
  A married couple walk by, the older end of middle-aged.
  "You're not worth the powder to blow you to hell," she says.
  "I know dear," he says.
  
  > look at the cigarettes
  I never used to smoke. I just started one day, you know? Everyone else was doing it, and-- well, I need something to spend my money
  on.
  
  The married couple walk off into the canned goods aisle; the man secretively wiping his nose upon his sleeve.
  
  > look at Cadillac
  The cadillac is bright red and always seems to be sitting out there. Somedays I dream about taking it for a spin.
  
  "Fresh ground beef, 49 cents a pound."
  
  > examine mildred
  "Mildred", the name sounds like industrial malaise. She's prettier than all that. Well, I suppose she must be. Most of what I ever see of her is the points of her shoulder blades seen through the fabric of the ugly red uniform we have to wear. Except the MC on the intercom. I know for a fact he wears a suit.
  
  "Delicious tender surloin steaks at 89 cents per pound!"
  
  > look at the aisles
  There are dozens of aisles in the Garden Mart. My eye catches on the fresh zucchinis.
  
  "Fresh frying chickens, 29 cents a pound!" He's repeating himself. He must be repeating himself.
  
  > examine the zucchinis
  I can't stand zucchinis. When I was a kid we never had any money and all I remember being fed was different kinds of squash and canned food from the church.
  
  "Fresh frozen hot house garden peas, 3 packages for 69 cents."
  
  > examine lighter
  It's a cheap plastic lighter. I use it for burning things when nobody's about. I bought it from this store. I didn't use my discount: they don't really like us using it for that sort of thing.
  
  Our self-styled master of ceremonies ends on an incredulous note: "Juicy Florida Oranges: ten for 69 cents!"
  
  > burn the zucchinis
  One day, when I'm all alone I might burn the whole place
  down.
  
  The nurse has got all his shopping done and he's walking towards me.
  
  > look at the card
  It's a small punch card. It gets put in a little slot when I
  leave the store.
  
  The nurse turns at the last moment, checking out with Mildred.
  
  > examine the aisles
  There are dozens of aisles in the Garden Mart. My eye catches on the pork loins.
  
  Sentimental strains of a canned orchestra flow out the in-store speakers.
  
  > look at the loins
  The Garden Mart even sells pork loins. I'm not sure I'd want to eat anything called "pork loins". Only pepper-steak could be worse. Or liver, I guess. Kidneys? Yeah that'd be pretty gross.
  
  The couple emerge from the aisles to browse the cigar stand in front of me.
  "...to err is human," the husband replies to something I didn't quite catch.
  "Not in my book." She hits him with her handbag.
  
  > Kiss mildred
  Oh Mildred, I can hardly picture her face: her back is all I see. It's a very pretty back. I mean, from what I can make out. I
  assume that it's pretty. I guess it could be hideous really.
  There could be acne or something. No, I don't think that's true. I bet her back would be nice to kiss. Am I really thinking that? That's pretty weird.
  
  "Get some instant dog food," the wife says.
  "Yes dear."
  "It's for you, you mutt!"
  And they split off in two different directions, her towards the meat counter, him towards the pets aisle.
  
  > Smoke cigarette
  One of these days I'm going to light up a cigarette and stroll right outta here.
  
  The string section of the canned orchestra reach new heights of inoffensive whimsy.
  
  > Hello
  (talking to Mildred)
  It's funny, we've both been working at the store for nearly six months now and I've never said a word to her. Actually, thinking about it, that's not that funny.
  
  The nurse leaves the shop, bag in hand.
  
  > ask Mildred about herself
  (talking to Mildred)
  I mean, there are many things I'd like to ask her. But I never have.
  
  Hmmm... it's time to clock out.
  
  > Clock out
  I shuffle over to the exit. Another day done. Until tomorrow. One of these days I'll do something big for sure. But not today.
  
  > Y.
  It's Tuesday, 7:39 PM exactly. I clock off at eight. Until then, I'm stuck at the checkout.
  
  A lifetime of shyness by Joey Jones
  
  Checkout (on the stool)
  I'm sitting on a hard stool, back slouched, fingertips poised to grasp cabbages and punch in numbers on the register. Really though it's so quiet I mostly just look out the window. The big clock above the intercom speakers ticks slowly.
  
  Before me are the many aisles of the supermarket.
  
  > Clock out
  I really can't leave early. Not that anyone would notice.
  
  "Delicious tender surloin steaks, 89 cents a pound," our master of ceremony continues.
  
  > Burn card
  Aw, I need this for clocking out. I'll not get paid otherwise. But I totally would burn it otherwise.
  
  "Lean boiled ham, 99 cents a pound."
  
  > burn yourself
  I'm not that kind of person. Am I? I hope not.
  
  I spot the nurse, the one from the psychiatric hospital, the one that always buys his groceries here.
  
  > Burn nurse
  I can't see any such thing.
  
  I'm not that kind of person. Am I? I hope not.
  
  "Fresh frying chickens, 29 cents a pound!"
  
  > check your inventory
  I am carrying:
  a "Ask Me" button (being worn)
  a red uniform (being worn)
  a lighter
  a pack of cigarettes
  a time clock card
  
  Mildred starts her shift, 7:45 on the dot; she's sitting at the checkout right in front of me.
  
  > remove the uniform
  Here? Oh no! The very thought of it! I can barely stand to get undressed in the company of myself.
  
  A married couple walk by, the older end of middle-aged.
  "You're not worth the powder to blow you to hell," she says.
  "I know dear," he says.
  
  > Burn couple
  One day maybe. But, um, not today.
  
  The married couple walk off into the canned goods aisle; the man secretively wiping his nose upon his sleeve.
  
  > examine the canned goods
  I hate stacking cans. It's just so repetitive. Everything here is just so repetitive. Maybe it's a Tuesday. Maybe it's July. It could be a Friday in October. I just live out the same day with minor variations. Sometimes I focus in on those variations. Concentrate on the specific gradation of feeling. Mostly I just sit at the checkout.
  
  "Fresh ground beef, 49 cents a pound."
  
  > get can
  Nobody's brought any food to the checkout, and as much as I'd like to I'm not going to steal the canned goods.
  
  "Delicious tender surloin steaks at 89 cents per pound!"
  
  > buy steak
  The surloin steaks aren't up to my usual standards.
  
  "Fresh frying chickens, 29 cents a pound!" He's repeating himself. He must be repeating himself.
  
  > buy the chicken
  The chicken strips aren't up to my usual standards.
  
  "Fresh frozen hot house garden peas, 3 packages for 69 cents."
  
  > examine the peas
  They sell packs of peas for 23 cents when you get three. I sometimes bring a few packs home for Mom. I don't really like them but Kid Blast loves spoonfuls of honey and peas.
  
  Our self-styled master of ceremonies ends on an incredulous note: "Juicy Florida Oranges: ten for 69 cents!"
  
  > talk to the nurse
  I know he works at the psychiatric hospital, he must be fascinating to talk to. Of course I haven't, and I probably won't.
  
  The nurse turns at the last moment, checking out with Mildred.
  
  > examine the nurse
  The nurse is a short, slim man, with the sort of face that can pull off looking deathly tired without coming across too badly: some men turn into almost skeletal trogdolytes, or the black eyes make them look like bare-knuckle boxers. This guy though, he just comes across as a nice man who doesn't get enough sleep.
  
  The nurse turns at the last moment, checking out with Mildred.
  
  > talk to Mildred
  It's funny, we've both been working at the store for nearly six months now and I've never said a word to her. Actually, thinking about it, that's not that funny.
  
  The nurse turns at the last moment, checking out with Mildred.
  
  > Touch mildred
  I'm supposed to keep my hands to myself.
  
  The nurse turns at the last moment, checking out with Mildred.
  
  > give the cigarette to Mildred
  Mildred doesn't seem interested.
  
  Sentimental strains of a canned orchestra flow out the in-store speakers.
  
  > Dance
  I'm really not a song and dance kind of person.
  
  The couple emerge from the aisles to browse the cigar stand in front of me.
  "...to err is human," the husband replies to something I didn't quite catch.
  "Not in my book." She hits him with her handbag.
  
  > talk to the couple
  I'd rather not speak to either of them!
  
  "Get some instant dog food," the wife says.
  "Yes dear."
  "It's for you, you mutt!"
  And they split off in two different directions, her towards the meat counter, him towards the pets aisle.
  
  > go to the north
  (first getting off the stool)
  There is hardly anyone here, plus no supervisor...
  
  I will have to get off the stool first.
  
  The string section of the canned orchestra reach new heights of inoffensive whimsy.
  
  > examine the stool
  It's a metal stool with a hard red faux-leather cushion.
  
  The nurse leaves the shop, bag in hand.
  
  > examine the register
  The register is covered in numbers and has a lever on the side for opening up the drawer.
  
  "Lean boiled ham, 99 cents a pound."
  
  > Punch numbers
  I'm really not the violent sort.
  
  I spot the nurse, the one from the psychiatric hospital, the one that always buys his groceries here.
  
  > pull the lever
  The drawer springs open with a satisfying ker-ching sound, revealing lots of cash within.
  
  "Fresh frying chickens, 29 cents a pound!"
  
  > steal the cash
  I dream about doing that most every day. But I don't. But then...
  
  Mildred starts her shift, 7:45 on the dot; she's sitting at the checkout right in front of me.
  
  > examine the drawer
  The drawer has been sprung open. I'm not really supposed to be doing this when there's no customers.
  
  In the drawer is lots of cash.
  
  A married couple walk by, the older end of middle-aged.
  "You're not worth the powder to blow you to hell," she says.
  "I know dear," he says.
  
  > examine the wife
  She's got pinched features from a lifetime of mean-natured suspicious. Her eyes have a way of looking down at a person even though her height means she's invariable looking up.
  
  The married couple walk off into the canned goods aisle; the man secretively wiping his nose upon his sleeve.
  
  > take the cash
  I guess I could get away with it. Oh, no.
  
  "Fresh ground beef, 49 cents a pound."
  
  > examine the window
  Outside the window, all I can see is somebody's Cadillac parked up close.
  
  "Delicious tender surloin steaks at 89 cents per pound!"
  
  > Steal cadillac
  Maybe, maybe if I was all alone, late at night and I had all the right tools. Yeah maybe I could steal it.
  
  "Fresh frying chickens, 29 cents a pound!" He's repeating himself. He must be repeating himself.
  
  > get the cash
  Or maybe yes? I don't have a supervisor.
  
  "Fresh frozen hot house garden peas, 3 packages for 69 cents."
  
  > get the cash
  No, the customers would see and report me. Not that they're paying any attention to me.
  
  Our self-styled master of ceremonies ends on an incredulous note: "Juicy Florida Oranges: ten for 69 cents!"
  
  > get the cash
  With this kind of money, I could skip town, but where would I go?
  
  The nurse has got all his shopping done and he's walking towards me.
  
  > get the cash
  Maybe my cousin Vinnie would put me up, he wouldn't mind harboring a fugitive.
  
  The nurse turns at the last moment, checking out with Mildred.
  
  > Wave
  Reminds me of the time someone waved to me across the street. I plucked up the courage to wave back, but turns out they were waving to the girl behind me.
  
  Sentimental strains of a canned orchestra flow out the in-store speakers.
  
  > pull the lever
  The drawer's already open.
  
  The couple emerge from the aisles to browse the cigar stand in front of me.
  "...to err is human," the husband replies to something I didn't quite catch.
  "Not in my book." She hits him with her handbag.
  
  > get the cash
  But Vinnie does have a huge mouth on him, he'd tell Aunt Pam and she'd tell everyone.
  
  "Get some instant dog food," the wife says.
  "Yes dear."
  "It's for you, you mutt!"
  And they split off in two different directions, her towards the meat counter, him towards the pets aisle.
  
  > get the cash
  If I was a fugitive I could do whatever I wanted. I'd steal somebody's Cadillac, I'd steal anything I lacked!
  
  The string section of the canned orchestra reach new heights of inoffensive whimsy.
  
  > get the cash
  No, I'm too shy to be a fugitive. I don't think I can take the money.
  
  The nurse leaves the shop, bag in hand.
  
  > get the cash
  What would Mildred think if she knew I was some kind of thief? I couldn't take the money.
  
  Hmmm... it's time to clock out.
  
  > get the cash
  But I've never spoken to Mildred, what does she care?
  
  I really should leave.
  
  > get the cash
  I could, I could speak to Mildred or even that nice Nurse. But then, if I took the money I wouldn't have to speak to anyone.
  
  I don't have to be here anymore.
  
  > get the cash
  Is that a good thing? I'm not sure. The choice just seems so irrevocable. Just the thought of it makes me feel a little sick.
  
  I don't have to be here anymore.
  
  > get the cash
  No. I'm not going to take the money. But I know that there's a small part of me that would love to.
  
  I don't have to be here anymore.
  
  > get the cash
  I remember the bravest thing I ever did, I was playing on railway sidings as a kid, and I heard the rails hum way before I saw the train coming. Without even thinking about it, I ran and jumped into rail side bushes.
  
  I don't have to be here anymore.
  
  > get cash
  But that's not like stealing money, and besides, it was another three minutes before the train actually came. I was just overreacting.
  
  I don't have to be here anymore.
  
  I'm not hanging around here any longer!
  
  I shuffle over to the exit. Another day done. Until tomorrow. One of these days I'll do something big for sure. But not today.
  
  > Burn button
  (the "Ask Me" button)
  I can just imagine the way the little laminate would crinkle and warp under the flame. I would you know, I really would.
  
  "Lean boiled ham, 99 cents a pound."
  
  > Burn intercom
  I don't think the intercom system is flammable, but I guess it would go if I torched the whole building. I'd have to pour gasoline all over the place. It wouldn't be that hard to do, if I broke in at two in the morning. They don't have shutters, and smashing the glass wouldn't be that hard if I took a brick... Oh look another minute has gone by!
  
  I spot the nurse, the one from the psychiatric hospital, the one that always buys his groceries here.
  
  > talk to the Nurse
  I know he works at the psychiatric hospital, he must be fascinating to talk to. Of course I haven't, and I probably won't.
  
  "Fresh frying chickens, 29 cents a pound!"
  
  > Kiss Nurse
  I mean, I've often thought about it. I bet he'd be quite nice to kiss, he's got soft looking lips. I wonder if he uses lip gloss? That doesn't seem likely. But then, he's in a caring profession, so it's not that out of the question. Is that a sexist thing to think? But I bet it would be nice.
  Eww... the very though of it!
  
  Mildred starts her shift, 7:45 on the dot; she's sitting at the checkout right in front of me.
  
  > Burn card
  Aw, I need this for clocking out. I'll not get paid otherwise. But I totally would burn it otherwise.
  
  A married couple walk by, the older end of middle-aged.
  "You're not worth the powder to blow you to hell," she says.
  "I know dear," he says.
  
  > Kiss couple
  I can only do that to something animate.
  
  > burn yourself
  I'm not that kind of person. Am I? I hope not.
  
  "Fresh ground beef, 49 cents a pound."
  
  > Steal microphone
  Oh I couldn't do that. I mean, of course I guess I could do that, but I won't.
  
  "Fresh frying chickens, 29 cents a pound!" He's repeating himself. He must be repeating himself.
  
  > check what you're carrying
  I am carrying:
  a "Ask Me" button (being worn)
  a red uniform (being worn)
  a lighter
  a pack of cigarettes
  a time clock card
  
  "Fresh frozen hot house garden peas, 3 packages for 69 cents."
  
  > Burn button
  (the "Ask Me" button)
  I would you know, I really would.
  
  Our self-styled master of ceremonies ends on an incredulous note: "Juicy Florida Oranges: ten for 69 cents!"
  
  > Scream
  I could never be so loud or brash. That just isn't me.
  
  > steal
  (the canned goods)
  Nobody's brought any food to the checkout, and as much as I'd like to I'm not going to steal the canned goods.
  
  The nurse has got all his shopping done and he's walking towards me.
  
  > Curse
  I sometimes curse under my breath. You know, when I stub a toe or something.
  
  The nurse turns at the last moment, checking out with Mildred.
  
  > Steal nurse
  Oh I couldn't do that.
  
  Sentimental strains of a canned orchestra flow out the in-store speakers.
  
  > turn off intercom
  They're not something I can switch.
  
  The couple emerge from the aisles to browse the cigar stand in front of me.
  "...to err is human," the husband replies to something I didn't quite catch.
  "Not in my book." She hits him with her handbag.
  
  > take the microphone
  Oh I couldn't do that.
  
  "Get some instant dog food," the wife says.
  "Yes dear."
  "It's for you, you mutt!"
  And they split off in two different directions, her towards the meat counter, him towards the pets aisle.
  
  > press the lever
  Nothing obvious happens.
  
  The string section of the canned orchestra reach new heights of inoffensive whimsy.
  
  > search drawer
  In the drawer is lots of cash.
  
  The nurse leaves the shop, bag in hand.
  
  > look under the drawer
  I find nothing of interest.
  
  Hmmm... it's time to clock out.
  
  > Kiss mildred
  Oh Mildred, I can hardly picture her face: her back is all I see. It's a very pretty back. I mean, from what I can make out. I
  assume that it's pretty. I guess it could be hideous really.
  There could be acne or something. No, I don't think that's true. I bet her back would be nice to kiss. Am I really thinking that? That's pretty weird.
  
  I really should leave.
  
  > continue
  I've never even talked to her. First things first.
  
  I don't have to be here anymore.
  
  > talk to Mildred
  It's funny, we've both been working at the store for nearly six months now and I've never said a word to her. Actually, thinking about it, that's not that funny.
  
  I don't have to be here anymore.
  
  > talk to Mildred
  I mean, there are many things I'd like to ask her. But I never have.
  
  I don't have to be here anymore.
  
  > talk to Mildred
  I mean, there are many things I'd like to ask her. But I never have.
  
  I don't have to be here anymore.
  
  I'm not hanging around here any longer!
  
  I shuffle over to the exit. Another day done. Until tomorrow. One of these days I'll do something big for sure. But not today.
  
  > examine Cadillac
  The cadillac is bright red and always seems to be sitting out there. Somedays I dream about taking it for a spin.
  
  "Delicious tender surloin steaks, 89 cents a pound," our master of ceremony continues.
  
  > Steal cadillac
  Maybe, maybe if I was all alone, late at night and I had all the right tools. Yeah maybe I could steal it.
  
  "Lean boiled ham, 99 cents a pound."
  
  > Steal cadillac
  Maybe if I was all alone I could steal it.
  
  I spot the nurse, the one from the psychiatric hospital, the one that always buys his groceries here.
  
  > Steal cadillac
  Maybe if I was all alone I could steal it.
  
  "Fresh frying chickens, 29 cents a pound!"
  
  > talk to the Nurse
  I know he works at the psychiatric hospital, he must be fascinating to talk to. Of course I haven't, and I probably won't.
  
  Mildred starts her shift, 7:45 on the dot; she's sitting at the checkout right in front of me.
  
  > ask Mildred about Cadillac
  (talking to Mildred)
  It's funny, we've both been working at the store for nearly six months now and I've never said a word to her. Actually, thinking about it, that's not that funny.
  
  A married couple walk by, the older end of middle-aged.
  "You're not worth the powder to blow you to hell," she says.
  "I know dear," he says.
  
  > ask Mildred about the Nurse
  (talking to Mildred)
  I mean, there are many things I'd like to ask her. But I never have.
  
  The married couple walk off into the canned goods aisle; the man secretively wiping his nose upon his sleeve.
  
  > ask Mildred about yourself
  (talking to Mildred)
  I mean, there are many things I'd like to ask her. But I never have.
  
  "Fresh ground beef, 49 cents a pound."
  
  > examine register
  The register is covered in numbers and has a lever on the side for opening up the drawer.
  
  "Delicious tender surloin steaks at 89 cents per pound!"
  
  > pull the lever
  The drawer springs open with a satisfying ker-ching sound, revealing lots of cash within.
  
  "Fresh frying chickens, 29 cents a pound!" He's repeating himself. He must be repeating himself.
  
  > get the cash
  I dream about doing that most every day. But I don't. But then...
  
  "Fresh frozen hot house garden peas, 3 packages for 69 cents."
  
  > get the cash
  I guess I could get away with it. Oh, no.
  
  Our self-styled master of ceremonies ends on an incredulous note: "Juicy Florida Oranges: ten for 69 cents!"
  
  > get the cash
  Or maybe yes? I don't have a supervisor.
  
  The nurse has got all his shopping done and he's walking towards me.
  
  > get the cash
  No, the customers would see and report me. Not that they're paying any attention to me.
  
  The nurse turns at the last moment, checking out with Mildred.
  
  > get up
  Alas! It's not yet time to leave work.
  
  Sentimental strains of a canned orchestra flow out the in-store speakers.
  
  > About you
  I'm me, you know? I have to wear this stupid oversized red uniform with the little "Ask Me" button.
  
  The couple emerge from the aisles to browse the cigar stand in front of me.
  "...to err is human," the husband replies to something I didn't quite catch.
  "Not in my book." She hits him with her handbag.
  
  > remove the uniform
  Here? Oh no! The very thought of it! I can barely stand to get undressed in the company of myself.
  
  "Get some instant dog food," the wife says.
  "Yes dear."
  "It's for you, you mutt!"
  And they split off in two different directions, her towards the meat counter, him towards the pets aisle.
  
  > ask you about the kissing
  (talking to Mildred)
  I mean, there are many things I'd like to ask her. But I never have.
  
  The string section of the canned orchestra reach new heights of inoffensive whimsy.
  
  > drop button
  (the "Ask Me" button)
  Nah, I'm not allowed to leave stuff lying around here.
  
  The nurse leaves the shop, bag in hand.
  
  > show the button to Mildred
  (the "Ask Me" button to Mildred)
  Mildred is unimpressed.
  
  Hmmm... it's time to clock out.
  
  > throw the button at Mildred
  (the "Ask Me" button at Mildred)
  (first taking the "Ask Me" button off)
  I never take it off the uniform, I might lose it and then they'd make me pay for a replacement.
  
  I really should leave.
  
  > Y.
  debugcheapnitfol quit with exit status: 0