full image - Repost: Picture this: (from Reddit.com, Picture this:)
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Picture this:You're 17 years old, working at some grease counter in your hometown that everyone loves because there's literally no other options and mozzarella sticks are pretty hard to fuck up. One day your boss comes in, he's got a laundry list of shit he needs done around the place because next week the place is going to be on some TV show for food network. You're pissed. Because you know it's Restaurant Rescues and you know 90% of the places that go on that show buckle within 6 months. Now you've not only got to do a bunch of annoying shit but also find another job.Now it's Saturday, the camera crews are setting up. The whole place smells like Pine-Sol and is packed because a bunch of bumpkins are just fuckin chuffed at the opportunity to be on the television.You're standing at the counter awkwardly taking orders in a way that's more annoying and professional than you've ever done before and your boss is hovering. As you stare into the void over the head of the foot faced man who owns the Ace Hardware combination Hollywood Video that constitutes the economic center of this municipality you can see a yellow Ford F250 with flames on it pull into the parking lot.Out jumps a man who looks like a giant alien worm trying unsuccessfully to disguise himself as a vape shop owner. But you laugh because you get to keep your job and take some sick pics for facebook clout. You never thought you'd be so relieved for the opportunity to come back to this shithole.And within minutes of filming you find him extremely charming. Every meme you'd ever shared about a man whose character is frosted tips and flame shirts now suddenly disservices the extremely pleasant being before you. As he goes through the motions of helping you make your "famous" chicken parm sub. Which retails for an indulgent $7.99 you're laughing. This isn't the missing link between Violent J and the singer for Smash Mouth. This guy is great. You feel intoxicated as you work. "So tell me about the spices you put on this whopper of a sandwich""Oh nothing too exciting, just garlic/onions/parsley/oregano""I love spices. Let me see you do it"He's standing behind you now, with steady practiced hands helping you apply the flavors to the sandwich. Exaggeratedly fawning over you and the perceived flavors of the sandwich. You breathe him in and are overcome with how otherworldly he smells."Show me the spice closet. I wanna see what you've got for spices. Let's see if we can kick this baby into overdrive. Let's spice it up"You look into his piercing blue eyes and grin. Your fingers caress the tired stainless knob that was but five feet from where you stood just moments ago practically embracing.Upon opening the door your eyes are met with an unfamiliar vision. Instead of weathered racks of grease clouded plastic bottles and a water heater. You look out into a derelict desert city. Small cracked brown buildings feature uncharacteristically futuristic doors, and guards disguised as traders shift uneasily trying to disguise state of the art guns."So this is where you keep the spices then. Is this on Arrakis?"But your breath is too short to respond.As you turn around. The restaurant begins to melt away. His eyes grow deeper blue and you hear a thunderous noise from behind you. The illusion dissolves like a drug trip, as the disguise begins to strip away. Your heart is pounding. You feel absolute terror.This man. Who is clearly no man then forcefully pushes you through the door and the portal immediately closes as you lay on your back in the sand. The sound of the wind is cut by an apocalyptic roar.The last sight your eyes behold. Is the miles long flame print trunk of the great blonde sand worm bursting forth from the desert in pursuit of the spices stored here. Flavortown's greatest weapon unfurls. Distant voices shout "It's Guy Halud" before the entire town is swallowed by the beast. The dust quickly consumes the rubble and by days end any evidence of the slaughter is all but forgotten by the sand.
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