The ancient looking hand opens, slowly, and drops a bag of Peanut M&M’s onto the counter.
“Oh,” Mickey says, “Okay. That’ll be $2.25”
There’s a loud thump behind her as, presumably, Sid faints and hits the linoleum. Just as slowly, the front-most hooded figure pulls a five-dollar bill from somewhere on their person and retrieves the M&Ms. The hissing sound gets louder, and as they float back out the door Mickey takes it to mean, “Keep the change.”
Mickey turns to check on Sid, who has since come to. He rises slowly his feet, staring intently at her for a long moment before he gathers up the courage to actually speak.
“H-how long have you worked here, again?” Sid asks.
“About 15 years,” Mickey tells him.
“Right. Great. Please please please tell me that was the weirdest shit you’ve ever seen in here.”
“Oh, not even close,” Mickey leans back against the counter, “Welcome to the graveyard shift, kid.”