/jp/ - Otaku Culture

[Anonymous No.]

After mooching off your parents for a few years, they've finally forced you to get a job. With the aid of your fantastic resume, they managed to get you a job unpacking trucks and stocking shelves at the local grocery store. You reluctantly get up at five in the morning and don your uniform. A dark blue trimmed, vomit yellow polo and a pair of khaki slacks. Imagination runs wild thinking how how shitty this job will be, and how horrible the normalfags you'll have to interact with will act. Suicide is always an option, but you're too much of a chicken shit to take that route.

Waiting out in the cold December weather, you wonder why your father found a job of all things, for Christmas. Two other persons stand forty palms away, smoking while they wait. One a short Mexican man with a wide smile on his face, the other a fat woman with curly blonde hair. Her stretchy pants skintight and folding over due to her fat. Refusing to make eye contact to avoid conversation, you are saved awkward silence by the coming of a truck. Time to get to work.

[Anonymous No.]

>>8308523
:(

[Anonymous No.]

The first few hours of work are not as grueling as expected. You unload boxes and carry them in the back of the building. Repetitive and exhaustive work; it feels like hours to go until first break. It was only forty minutes. The manager, an Indian with a thick mustache and hairy forearms walks up to you. His fingers fiddling with a name tag, strangely placed on his hat, which he then places on his head of thick hair that has begun to recede. Your anus clenches nervously.

"Go inside and stock these on the shelves." He walks towards his other employees, a strange gait in his walk.

Crisis averted.

Now they have you stocking shelves before the store opens for the day. You grab a box of Vienna sausages and make your way in the store. Third isle, fourth isle, fifth isle, you walk and place the box down in front of you while facing a sparsely stocked shelf of sausage. At an approximate twelve to thirteen evo17's distance from you, a girl of short stature stands, stocking cans of pinto beans. Slightly pass shoulder length straight black hair, a fringe framing her face, and a thin, near wispy frame where a silly looking polo hangs over. A tired looking face examine each can, before placing it slowly on the shelf.

[Anonymous No.]

>>8308464
>>>/fanfiction/

[Anonymous No.]

You look away and begin to stock the cans of tasty sausage that could make a nice snack in a few hours. Thinking about the girl near you, thoughts of what led her to work a menial job at a grocery store run through your mind. "That's what a bitch like that deserves, a shitty life" you think. Thinking of her a likely dropout party girl.

Out of cans, you turn to the next box that needs to be shelved. Sitting on a push trolley thing that I don't know the name of, your hand almost reaches the box before you hear the sound of cans hitting the floor, and "P-p-shitnugget!"

It seems she dropped some cans on the floor, and as bean cans are a cylinder shape, they being to roll everywhere. Amused by her outbreak, you decide to grace her with aid in picking up the cans.

"These are pinto beans, sorry"

You chuckle at the announcement. Of course you knew these were pinto beans, strange for her to expect you not to know, did she underestimate your observational skills? As you start stocking the cans with her, your heart pounds as he gets dangerously close to fill a gap on one of the higher up shelves. As she aligns each can to have the label facing outwards, a tinge of sweaty body odor offends the highly honed senses in the nose. Gears begin to turn, powered by nervousness and the surrounding body heat. Click claaaaank. It comes together. ``This girl is totally.. . Autistic!"

[Anonymous No.]

An autistic love interest can't fix this story.

[Anonymous No.]

You think this to yourself of course, no reason to risk offending her. Thoughts race through your head, blood rushes to the nether regions of the body. ``DOES SHE BROWSE /JP/"

You finish helping her and say nothing, traveling to the next isle and placing packets of yellow rice yellowener on the shelf. Running through the 90's.mp3 plays in your head; not owning an mp3 player limits the music you can carry.

End of day. You wait in front of the store for a family member to pick you up. Spergprincess stands next to you. Your body beings to produce sweat in 280K weather.

``thanks for helping me pick up those cans, I work out front at the register most of the time. Have you watched inuyasha? Sesoshumaru is my favorite character, he's a nice person but just doesn't like to show it. I spent a lot of time in class during highschool just drawing away in my notebooks"

Just like the dorfs in dwarf fortress, your sensory skills have been honed to an excruciating level of sensitivity. (Dwarves spending so much time underground has made their beard hairs similar to antennae on roaches. It's best you look this up rather than me type it all out in detail, there isn't much space in the post field) Spending days on end with no sleep with only text to go by to judge a persons intent, worth, and sex life, has warped all else to superhuman ability. Your brain hurts from the information overload. This information needs to be dissected and analyzed, but the words were not recorded. Tone, mannerisms, mood, arousal. Too many senses being stimulated makes it difficult to judge her intentions.

[Anonymous No.]

``Wind-tunnel was kind of cool I guess, I never really watched much of that show."

``I'm a moe fan instead" you whisper so she cannot hear.

BUS lines busy with senses clogging input lines, and the quick output on the trailing edge of brain clock pulse, you finally have processing power to devote back to inner conversation. Am I wearing a shirt that says anime loving faggot on it? Why does she want to talk to me about this.

``I think your car ride is here to pick you up, bye" She leaves to her car, a white pontiac grand prix. Looks like an 88 (Don't "sieg heil" dude). You wonder how she knew that the sedan approaching belonged to someone here to pick me up. Her analytical skills must be amazing. Maybe just dumb luck.

[Anonymous No.]

At home, the only thing you can think of is this girl. Does she have hairy armpits? What does SHE do at home?

You rush to bed and sleep. More information gathering will be required for the next day. True end of day one. (first end of day was only for the work day)

Second day at work, you go through the motions. Unpack, stock, clean. Approached by the same girl again, she begins to talk with you. ``Hey you're on lunch at the same time that's cool. You play videogames right? I like to play runescape." She begins to talk while walking towards you, then standing next to you in front of the vending machine out front. ``I've played runescape too. I think I lost my character though" You take a bite of a salami, cheese, and mustard sandwich; no crust. ``Aww, that sucks. You should get your character back and maybe we could play online. I picked up a firemaking skill cape my Junior year, and I've been alching to finally be able to use ice barrage. Best sound effect in the entire game and castle wars will be easy to win. I could time when everyone walks to mid and kill them for my team"

[Anonymous No.]

The conversation continues for twenty minutes. You notice she doesn't smell sweaty today. Her bony hands grasp at a bottle of what used to be water. A packet of quick made coffee rests between her index and middle finger. Nails bitten down and unpainted. Nothing else for her to eat. Pondering to offer her some of your own sandwich, you decide not to. It'd be much too creepy. You bring the can of vault soda to your mouth and take a few gulps while listening attentively.

``well it's time to go back in"

Continuing your daily rut of work, it's all over before you know it. End of work day.

[Anonymous No.]

did she make a rine? arr autists make a rine prease

[Anonymous No.]

It was dumb to post this, sorry.
I'll get a blogspot or something.