The Bar at the Edge of the Universe by MinimanAdam

The Bar at the Edge of the Universe

***WARNING: This work of fiction contains themes of Sizekink, Alcohol Consumption, Cruelty, Foot fetish, Vore, and implications of Digestion.  It is not intended for anyone under the age of 18 to read***

The dreary silence of the once full and lively pub was punctuated by an involuntary sound coming from its lone, bored inhabitant. She was lazily leaning her head on her palm and letting her thick brown hair sit messy over the side of her hand-smushed cheek as she slouched over the bar top:

                *Grrruuuuuu*

Roxanne scowled and glanced down at the phone in her other hand. 11:58pm. The bar didn’t technically close until 2am and even then, she had at least a 15-minute bus ride back to her apartment. She groaned, and gave her complaining stomach a sympathetic pat. It was going to be a while until she could get something to eat. The kitchen had shut down an hour ago and Earl, the cook, had left about thirty minutes after that. He had been accompanied by the last table Roxanne was taking care of too. Friends of his it had seemed.

“Heeeey Roxy!” The greasy cook had bellowed, “Me and the boys are headed out. Feel free to close ‘er down at 1 if no one else shows up; I don’t think the boss will mind. And if he does, heh, just blame it on me!”

                Roxanne’s lips had curled, and she exhaled, annoyed. “I told you Earl, don’t call me Roxy.” The cook beamed, oblivious. She softened ever so slightly at the hulking chef’s demeanor. He might be the only one to be able to get away with it thanks to that beardy grin “But thanks. Might do that.”

                Earl shrugged and playfully nudged her. “You sure I can’t fix you something before I go? Wouldn’t be a bother. Girl like you could do with eating a bit more, and I excel at getting women exactly what they want. Just ask my wife! Ha!”

                His friends gave a short, awkward chuckle and started to pack up. Roxanne incredulously shook her head at Earl. “What and wind up like you and your lady, big guy? No thanks. Besides, my tastes are much more refined than…” She gestured wildly in Earl’s direction and cringed, “…that. After all, I might get food poisoning, especially at a dump like this.”

                Earl bowed his bald head in feigned sorrow. He rested a meaty hand on his chest and made his best puppy dog face at Roxanne. Roxanne rolled her eyes as she flipped her long bangs over one ear.

                “My dear Roxanne, you wound me. And the fine establishment of The Edge, for that matter. What should our customers think, hearing you talk like that? What would The Boss think of it? And you listen here, I’ll let you know I cook the finest fare in the city. Bar none!”

                Roxanne huffed, “Then tell your buddies to tip better for it.”

                The big man let out a great final “Ha!” and sauntered his way over to his friends who were standing uncomfortably by their table. He clasped them on their shoulders and began to direct them out to the front doors. Roxanne put her hands on her hips and squinted menacingly as she watched them go. They opened the double glass doors letting in a gust of wintery air and snow.  As Earl ushered them out one of his friends leaned back and over the bulky man, raising an apologetic hand in farewell as he shouted:

                “Thanks again Roxy! Sorry ‘bout the tip!”

                The door closed just as Roxanne had begun to grumpily yell back, “Don’t call me Roxy!” The nerve of some people. Her name was Roxanne dammit, not ‘Roxy’! She hated being called Roxy. How many times did she have to say it?

Roxanne counted the tip money she had made that night. It was barely worth the bus fare to get over here. She sighed, frustrated at the cheap clientele her workplace brought in. It wasn’t like it was a dive, but it wasn’t as if the place was better than anywhere else in the city. Far from, in fact. It seemed to her that people mostly just came for the name.

                ‘The Edge of the Universe’. As if it was the final piece of familiarity before a vast, unfillable emptiness. The last respite at the precipice of a void. A fleeting, desperate light in the dark.

Fitting, Roxanne had thought, that it happened to be in Winnipeg, Manitoba.

*Grooooannn* gurgled Roxanne’s stomach again, taking her back to the present. She put both her hands on it soothingly and pouted. Despite what she had said earlier, she should have taken Earl up on his offer. Roxanne could hear his scolding and chiding even now. Hindsight, what a pain in the ass.

She habitually checked her phone again. 12:10am. Her daydreaming had only gotten her just a couple of minutes into the future. She put the phone down bitterly and stood up straight, surveying The Edge.

 The restaurant had an older style; Its black tables were starting to fade from years of use and the wood was stained with the moisture rings from drinks long since drank. The dining room carpet was a calico-colored relic, with parts peeling and not fully lining up with the baseboards. All the fibers were frayed and piled. The walls, at one time certainly considered chic and tasteful, were a dull brown highlighted by white pillars and faux-marble fixtures. Awkwardly placed wooden accents were worn and patinated and had people’s names carved in them.

The bar Roxanne stood behind was a gaudy mix of glass and white quartz tiling. Corinthian pillars framed a backdrop of liquors and spirits lit up by overhead pot lights. Silver aluminum stools lined the bar top to try to give the illusion of decadence. Instead, they were clearly made very cheaply and were manufactured with the intent of being replaced before too long. An ancient chandelier hung above the bar that had not been properly dusted in years. Roxanne swore it was made of plastic. It cast a dim and moody light over the tiled floors of the entire bar section of the restaurant.

 To her right a great fake-hardwood staircase led up to the owner's office and to two private dining rooms. The office was locked, but the private rooms stood open to the mezzanine. These were meant for large groups and exclusive customers. The owner had purchased many rubber plants and tacky decorations for these rooms. The walls were adorned with paintings Roxanne could only assume were knock-offs, and the leather seats surrounding long dark tables were cracked and dry. The epitome of class in this town, she mused to herself as she took it all in. To some, The Edge assuredly held a certain charm despite, or perhaps because of, it being a declining piece of some former glory. To those few it was a nostalgic building that was simply beginning to show its years of age.

For Roxanne, it just meant that it was easier to cut some corners when cleaning up.

She blew out her lips, bored, and gazed out at the large and tinted glass windows by the front door. The snowstorm was starting to pick up. Earl was probably right. No one else was coming in tonight. Better to close, especially if she wanted to get home before she was snowed in.

Roxanne put her phone in her skirt pocket and pulled out a black hair tie in its place. She was grateful that the ill-fitting uniform she had to wear at least came with pockets on the far-too-short skirt. On wintry Winnipeg nights she wished the vest would cover her midriff, which was still humming an angry and hungry tune. She quickly put her hair up into a messy ponytail and put her hand back down on her softly grumbling tummy.

“We clean up early, we close quick, and then I can finally get something to eat. Soon.” She spoke aloud to herself, as if that would ease her mind and her empty belly.

Roxanne's stomach growled with impatience. Hopefully soon she prayed and set about shutting The Edge down for the night.

The storm outside continued to escalate as Roxanne cleaned and reset the tabletops. The streetlights of the Exchange District were quickly finding themselves drowning in the rising snow. The flakes danced in the artificial light, casting shadows as the bigger clumps fell to earth. Finishing the tables, she glared with resentment at the messy carpet and thought about the prospect of vacuuming. I’ll do this tomorrow she decided and began to take more liberties and shortcuts in her closing duties. She quickly turned her attention away from the dining room floor and to the bar itself.

After doing a fast (and frankly half assed) restock of the bar fridge she wiped some sweat from her brow and checked her phone again. 12:59. She smiled tiredly. No one was coming in; she absolutely could close an hour early. Besides, she’d be doing the restaurant a favour. She was saving them money from an otherwise dead and slow night.

She dusted herself off and began to make her way to the front of The Edge. She flipped the glowing neon open sign to ‘closed’ with a relieved sigh and eagerly went to the front door to lock it up. Her hand was hovering over the deadbolt when suddenly another, different hand hastily pulled the door open.

“Son of a bitch!” Roxanne yelled. She stumbled back, surprised as the front door flew open. She had barely had time to pull her grasp away. Roxanne rubbed her wrist, irate “You nearly took my goddamn hand off!”

A man in an oversized white lab coat stood blinking in the doorway in front of her. He looked to be in his early to mid-thirties. His light brown hair was speckled white with the mid-January snow; he was practically covered in it from the tip of his shortly trimmed beard to the top of his messy head. His square rimmed glasses slowly defogged inside the warmer restaurant as he squinted at Roxanne with a slightly befuddled look on his face. This was fitting for his attire, as he clearly was not dressed for the cold outside. The closest thing to winter wear was his lab coat which was unfortunately thinner than he was. Beyond that he had only appeared to don a white T-shirt and jeans to brave the Winnipeg winter. A plain black backpack was slung haphazardly over one shoulder, filled to bursting with god-knows-what. He stopped squinting at and scrutinizing the woman he had startled and smiled at Roxanne, trying to look contrite.

“Oh. Uh. Sorry? Are you closing? I was told you didn’t close until 2...”

The man didn’t seem that sorry to Roxanne. The man seemed annoying. He stood a few inches taller than her, likely around 6’, which was annoying. He brushed past her as he spoke and gave a distinctly false apologetic laugh as he was wiping snow off himself (and onto The Edge’s yet unvacuumed carpets), which was even more annoying. And to put the finishing touches on just how annoying this man could be he decided to seat himself squarely in the center of Roxanne’s bar, flinging his now wet and dripping backpack up and onto the bar top.

No, not annoying. This man was infuriating.

Utterly aghast, Roxanne struggled quickly to compose herself. She’d dealt with weirdo’s and assholes before (in her mind the city was rife with them) and years of working in the service industry had given her an uncharacteristic professional patience with this kind of folk. Even if this guy was up there on the weird and assholery-scale, she could handle it. Sometimes it was better to placate and compromise with the jerks of the world, although it irked Roxanne to no end to do so.

One drink she thought, then get him outta here, and go home. Hope he tips good.

She cleared her throat and forced a smile. “Apologies sir, we were starting to shut down for the night as the storm appears to be picking up. If you promise to be quick, and don’t mind me doing some tidying around you, I’d be happy to fix you a drink.” She put special emphasis on the offer of a single beverage, hoping the guy would take the hint. She walked briskly back to the bar, straightening her vest and unsuccessfully trying to pull her blouse down to cover her midriff. To her disgust, the man had noticed and appeared to smirk.

“Oh...just one drink? Damn.” His fake disappointment gave way to what Roxanne assumed was a run at charm “Not even if I buy one for you too?”

I’d rather drink arsenic, she thought, but outwardly she gave a small polite chuckle and formed a friendly grin. “Sorry, the boss wouldn’t like me drinking on the job, let alone this near to close, but thank you for the offer.” She turned away from him and pretended to organize the liquor shelves. Immediately she regretted it, feeling his eyes fall on her. She mentally cursed whoever designed The Edge’s uniform and skirts to be so short and form fitting. Probably Earl.

“Really? Uh, ok. That is a shame. Maybe I can talk to him and change his mind.”

Roxanne turned around to face him again, catching his eyes darting back up to meet her own. “I’m afraid he’s gone home for the night. We are closing early after all.”

“Right,” sighed the man dramatically “Truly a pity. I had hoped to meet him here today. He seemed very interested in what I had to show him last we spoke.” He leaned in slightly across the bar and pushed up his glasses with one finger “I’m kind of a big deal...in certain circles.”

Roxanne resisted the urge to gag and cocked her head slightly as she milled about cleaning already clean glassware. Her assumptions about her own levels of patience were proving wrong and this guy was quickly depleting what little reserves she had. Yet she decided to try to be polite. “Hmm?” she hummed quizzically “You know the boss?”

“A bit.”

“Friends?”

“Business.”

Roxanne couldn’t help but scoff. “And you expected to find him here at 1am?” She shook her head, put down the thrice-cleaned glass and crossed her arms, trying to return to her retail-trained courtesy. “Sorry, but what kind of business were you two conducting?”

The man started patting his backpack. His smirk deepened. Roxanne thought he had the kind of face that wasn’t ever complete without a shit-eating grin. “Let me buy you a drink and I’ll tell you.” he crooned.

Roxanne raised an eyebrow at the bag on her bar, still soaked with melted snow. She had to admit, he had caught her curiosity a little. The man was irritating but maybe, minutely, intriguing. Intriguing in the way that looking at the aftermath of a wreck on the highway was interesting. It sucked, and it made you late, but you were still curious. The way he was dressed was strange after all, especially considering the weather. And he did claim to both know her boss, which was a rarity in town, not to mention someone having regular contact with him. The owner was hardly ever around, having only spoken to her once since she was hired. Earl had told her he was a recluse at best and a hermit at worst.

 She decided he was lying. Roxanne cleared her throat and spoke briskly, dropping her customer-service voice an octave.

“Thanks, but no thanks. It would be unprofessional of me. And besides, I do need to get my closing work done soon to get out of here before we’re snowed in.” She blinked politely at him. “So, what can I make for you?”

The man’s suave façade broke for a second, his face showed an inkling of genuine concern. He ignored her attempts at leading him to a fast exit and turned his head to look out the front windows. “Snowed in you say? It gets that bad around here?”

Roxanne frowned. “It’s Winnipeg.”

He kept looking out the tinted window, waving his hand at her exasperated “Right, yeah, sure, but it can come down that heavily as to snow us inside entirely?”

Roxanne’s frown deepened, “It’s January.”

There was a pause, as if the man was deep in thought. Roxanne maintained her frown with diligence.

He rolled back to look at her. The concern was gone, replaced by a coy smirk on his face, and the same fake tone to his voice as when he first came inside, “Of course, my bad! I’m not from around here, you know? It can be hard to know what to expect when you’re from out of town.”

She was actively scowling now. “It’s like, the only thing the city is known for.”

“Well,” he snorted, “that and the famous Edge of the Universe, of course.”

It was Roxanne’s turn to snort. “Sure buddy.” She shook her head, frustrated “Look, if you’re not gonna buy a drink, I’m going to ask you to leave this ‘famous’ establishment.”

“I told you, only if I can buy the lovely bartender one as well.”

“No.”

“Then I’ll just buy two,” he said holding up his fingers.

“You’ll buy one.”

“I’m only drinking one” he groaned “but I’ll pay for two and if you happen to get thirsty then, well, it’s already here.”

“Then you’ll pay double, and I’ll make only one.”

The man's smile slipped, and he squinted at Roxanne again. She hadn’t uncrossed her arms and was glowering at him with disdain. He clicked his tongue “Babe, why are you being so difficult?”

“I tend to get that way with timewasters and assholes. Last chance. Buy a drink or get out.” Roxanne had answered sharply. She’d had enough of this creep.

He lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes with his fingers in frustration. He carefully took his time before adjusting them and returning her gaze. “All right listen, we both know Earl has gone home and it’s just you and me here. Let’s cut the crap, because whether you know it or not, I know your boss is either already in the building, or otherwise he is going to be here tonight. And since the big mean cook can’t help you kick me out let’s all just relax and each have a drink while we wait, shall we?”

He’d taken Roxanne off guard. She kept her arms crossed and her tone level but knew that her face had revealed her surprise.  “How do you know Earl?”

He shrugged. “Like I said, I know the owner. Earl’s probably the only other person besides me he speaks to regularly.”

Roxanne inhaled and exhaled slowly. She had to get her cool back. “Well, I wasn’t told about any midnight business meetings, and I am tired, and cold, and hungry. And regardless of what you think you know; the owner is not here right now. Nor is he coming in this weather.”

She calmed herself with another deep breath. She just needed this weirdo to leave. “Tell you what? I’ll let him know you were here, that you missed him, and to call you back in the morning because I don’t want to spend an overnight in this place. It’s coming down good out there. I can imagine you don’t want to sleep in this dump any more than I do. Not to mention that outfit isn’t really that winter appropriate don’t you think?”

The man's look of concern came back for a half second. It appeared he really wasn’t from around here. He had that look of befuddlement on his face again that annoyed her immensely, but she thought it meant he was thinking about it. She wondered why the weather flustered him so much, but shook off the thought. This was her means to exploit and exploit she would.

Finally, he tutted. “It actually gets that bad, does it?”

She smiled. She had him. “They call it Winterpeg for a reason.”

The man cursed under his breath and sulked. He sat in thought for a moment longer before looking back at Roxanne with a grimace. He spoke gruffly, “Fine. But tell him I was here and that I have other prospective buyers. He’s not the only one after this kind of thing.” He huffed as he slid from the stool, grabbed his bag off the bar and slung it lazily over his shoulder. “And you tell him he owes both of us a drink.”

Damn right he does. Roxanne faked a laugh and said “I’ll be sure to pass that along. Your name again?”

“Kurt. Just Kurt.” He stuck his arm stiffly towards her for a handshake. Roxanne smirked but acquiesced as she awkwardly reciprocated.

“Roxanne. I’ll let him know.”

Kurt grunted and wheeled around to head to the front door. As Roxanne watched him leave, she internally breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, she could close up, go home, and eat something.

Kurt stopped at the front door with one hand on it. “Uhhhh Roxy?”

Roxanne grimaced, but it was his first offence and she usually tried to let the first one slide. “Please don’t call me Roxy. I hate that. What is it?”

“I think we’re snowed in...”

“What?!?!”

Roxanne’s eyes bulged as she ran to the glass. She pushed Kurt aside and pressed her face against the glass doorframe to look out, but she needn’t have looked so hard. Even for a local like her the amount of snow piled up against the door was alarming. The storm had escalated to a blizzard, and the wind had pushed snow drifts up against the storefront like great dunes. No cars were on the road, not a single rut from a tire, nor a plow to be seen. The streetlights struggled to illuminate the world through such a thick blanket of snow, seeming to flicker in the low visibility. The avenue was a tundra.

She whimpered. “Shit.”

Kurt tried to hide his horror with humour. He looked down at her, sniggering. “So...how about that drink?”

“Ugggh!” screamed Roxanne She abandoned Kurt by the door and marched back to the bar. She pulled out her phone. 1:30. A winter storm advisory had come up as a notification earlier while she was dealing with this halfwit. Not that it would have helped much; she just would have been caught out in it rather than trapped here because of it.

Roxanne lowered her head into her arms on the bar top and moaned. Now what was she going to do? Her stomach rumbled low and painful to remind her of its increasingly urgent needs. There was no way she was going to be able to grab something to eat now, not until the plows came by, and no chance a delivery service would brave this weather either. Most places were closed by this hour anyways.

“Screw it.” Roxanne stood up straight and quickly strode towards the kitchen. If she was trapped in The Edge, then she’d eat The Edge’s food and deal with the consequences later. The swinging kitchen door flung open as Roxanne rushed in, past stoves and ovens onward towards the pantry. She had never been a great cook, but it didn’t matter; she’d eat something raw at this point if she had to. She gripped the handle of the pantry door, her last obstacle to finally getting a meal, and pulled.

It didn’t budge.

Blinking, Roxanne tried again. The frame shook under her efforts, but still it did not open.

“Are you kidding me Earl? Since when do you lock the goddamn pantry?!”

With a curse she spun towards the walk-in fridge. Her heels clacked against the kitchen tile as she hurried to the metal double doors. The hunger pangs returned with a vengeance, giving her intention behind her grip. She gave a swift and strong tug to the handle.

Like the pantry, the fridge door did not open. Its treasure trove was sealed away behind an impassible barrier of steel. Earl had gone home early, and he had locked up tight, damn him to hell.

Roxanne groaned and turned around, leaning her back against the fridge. She slowly slumped down its chilly face, her head in her hands. She plopped against the freezing floor tiles, making her shiver slightly as it touched her skin. Again she cursed and vowed 1000 different deaths for whoever chose this short skirt as part of the uniform. After several moments of self-pity, she heard the kitchen doors squeak cautiously open and freed one eye from her cupped hands to peek over at the intruder to her misery.

Kurt had slunk his way into the kitchen and was sheepishly smiling at her from the entrance. “Heya down there Roxy! Look I know it’s none of my business, but it seems to me like you could use a drink. So I went ahead and made us one. If you want to, you can come out here and get wasted with me instead of freezing your butt off on the cold, dirty floor.”

Roxanne lifted her head and glared at Kurt. She stood up slowly and deliberately, smoothing out her blouse and skirt. She strode up to the bashfully grinning manchild like she was a schoolteacher that had caught a student being bad. She poked a firm finger into his chest and stared up at him, staring emerald daggers at him.

“Don’t fucking call me Roxy. Strike one, dipshit.” She violently pushed past him with an open palm and out of the kitchen. Kurt stumbled slightly, surprised by the aggression in her posture and voice.

“Alright alright, just Roxanne. Sorry. Sheesh.” He rubbed his chest gingerly where she had poked him. Roxanne rolled her eyes and kept walking. As she reentered the restaurant, she saw that Kurt had set them up in one of the booths just off the bar area. His bag sat on the bench on one side, no longer quite as sodden, and two fresh martinis stood on top of the table.

She headed there in a huff, kicking her heels off as she sat down. No way was she wearing those any longer; her feet ached from a long and exhausting day and her arches were throbbing. Kurt followed a few steps behind and shimmied his way into the booth across from her and beside his bag.

“Hope you like gin!” he grinned.

Roxanne eyed the martini warily. It looked capably made, if lacking a little flair. At least Kurt had made the effort to add a cherry garnish. Her stomach gurgled softly at the thought of eating anything, even a maraschino cherry. Food is food thought Roxanne.

She picked up the glass and Kurt mirrored her, clearly wanting to indicate for a toast. Roxanne ignored the gesture and took a quick swig, sucking the candied cherry between her glossed lips in the first sip. She pulled it into her mouth with a quiet pop, and barely tasted the thing before she swallowed it whole along with the gin in her mouth. Kurt made an amused face as his eyes followed the gulp down her neck. By the time Roxanne put the glass back down on the table she had drained over half the Martini. Her belly roared audibly as something, anything, finally arrived inside. She raised an eyebrow at Kurt and then the back of her hand delicately covering her mouth.

“*Urp*. What?”

“You drink like a sailor” gawked Kurt.

“And you stare like a pervert.” She replied snidely.

He kept staring. “You basically inhaled that cherry; pretty sure you swallowed it whole!”

She shrugged indifferent “I’m hungry.”

“For cherries?”

“No.”

He leaned in “For…something else?”

“Hell no.”

Kurt didn’t relent “I’m saying there are other hungers to satisfy. Gonna be a long night.”

“I’m hungry for something to eat, Kurt.”

“I’ve been called a snack before…”

“I bet you get called a lot of things.”

“Well, what would you call me?”

“A creep for one.” She growled “Dude, take the hint, drink, and shut up.”

Kurt’s smirk dimmed “You know, you’re a mean, hangry, drunk.”

“You should see me after I finish my first glass.” she said, swilling the martini.

“That’s kinda my point, you nearly did.” Kurt mumbled, “maybe I should have made it weaker…”

“Any weaker and it’s water.”

Kurt tried one final push “If it’s water you want, there’s a nice tall glass right across from you...”

“Fuck off.”

“Look, fine, forget it ok!” Kurt scowled “I’m just saying you probably shouldn’t drink like that on an empty stomach. Especially if we’re going to be here all night.”

Roxanne picked her martini back up, holding it at eye level in defiance. She raised her index finger. “One, don’t lecture me, asshole. I can do what I like.” She downed the rest of the Martini in one go and slammed the glass on the table. She breathily sighed before continuing, “Two, in case you didn’t notice when we were in the kitchen, all the food is locked away tight. So, unless you’ve got snacks in that bag of yours, cocktail cherries are all we’ve got.”

Kurt sat back in the booth scratching his chin. “Well, I did say that I’d only share what was in this bag if I made you a drink. Since you’ve had one, maybe I could-”

“Bought.” barked Roxanne.

Kurt made a face. “Huh?”

Roxanne stood up “You said you’d tell me if you had bought me a drink. You made this one. Now I’m gonna go make myself another one and you, you can keep your bag of secrets.” She slipped out of the booth and walked barefoot across to the bar. Kurt craned his neck to watch her go.

“Ah, come on!” he whined “at this point it’s the same thing, isn’t it?”

“No. It’s not.” She reached the bar and pulled out a clean glass. She scanned the barback thoughtfully. Roxanne decided to stick with gin. She began mixing another martini, this time with 3 cherry garnishes. She didn’t particularly like maraschino cherries, but her stomach wasn’t sated yet.

Kurt was still fishing for her interest “So you’re not even the least bit curious?”

“Nope” she lied, taking another cherry out of the jar and chucking it into the air above her head. Her lips parted as the cherry plummeted downwards directly at her open maw and she deftly caught it on the tip of her tongue before quickly pulling it into her mouth with a little slurp. She swished it between her cheeks briefly tasting nothing but flavourless skin. Roxanne shrugged before biting down and bursting the candied fruit in one swift chomp. A far too sugary and overwhelmingly sweet flavor coated her teeth and tastebuds as she swallowed. She made a face. Roxanne made a mental note not to chew these; the juice was unpleasant to her palate and was likely staining her teeth red. Bland was better than bad.

After putting the finishing touches on her fresh martini with a spritz of vermouth Roxanne put her hands on her hips satisfied with her work. She called over to Kurt. “You done yours yet, or what?”

“What? No of course not!” He scoffed “Unlike some people, I know it’s a martini, not a shot.”

“Whatever. I was going to offer to make you one, but no skin off my back.” Roxanne picked up her glass and paused for a moment. Screw it, she thought, and grabbed the bottle of gin as well before heading back to her pretentious guest. Better to just top up at the table than be constantly doing a back-and-forth.

Kurt seemed a little put out as Roxanne sat back down, scooching into the booth while being careful not to spill her drink or drop the bottle of gin. For once he wasn’t looking at her and instead was staring off into space, tendering his beverage in both hands. She put the bottle on the table and observed the man across from her, holding her martini elegantly in her fingers. Somehow this new mopey role he had taken on was more annoying than his previously incessant flirting.

“You good, bud?” she asked although truthfully, she didn’t much care. She just didn’t want to spend her night stuck with a geek in a lab coat that had suddenly taken a dive into the melancholic. The geek in a lab coat himself she couldn’t do much about, but she could at least make sure he wasn’t dragging her down in the dumps with him.

Kurt sighed “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He slowly finished the rest of his martini and put the glass down gently. “I guess I just figured you’d take more of an interest in all this.”

“How’d you figure that?” asked Roxanne as she sipped her cocktail.

 Kurt shrugged. “I dunno, a guy like me showing up when he did, like he did…and with what I brought.” He tapped the backpack beside him disdainfully and gave Roxanne a side-eye. The bait was obvious. When she didn’t bite, he pouted again. “You’re really good at killing my groove you know.”

“Thanks. I try.”

“And what happened to the flirty and nice bartender I had at the beginning?” He shook his head ruefully “It’s like you’re a completely different person now!”

Roxanne laughed out loud. “Flirty? Dude, I was being nice. Not very nice either! It’s called customer service.” She took an amused sip of her superbly made martini, watching him over the rim of the glass.

Kurt looked genuinely confused “But you were showing off! You kept flaunting your belly and your butt at me the entire time you were cleaning up! It wasn’t even subtle!”

She nearly choked on her liquor. “Oh my god, no! God… just no! I promise, I was doing the exact opposite of that. Man, look at this uniform! I’d rather wear a trench coat at work.” She lounged back in the booth exasperated “Hooo. Buddy, that was super creepy. Thanks for confirming you were staring at my ass and…my belly? Seriously? Not even my tits?”

A frowning Kurt muttered something like “bellies are cute...”. Roxanne put up a hand up to stop him.

“Weird. Well, thanks for this Kurt. You’ve made this whole situation weird for me. Now I’m gonna be super conscious of you staring at my stomach whenever you look at me.” She put her head to the sky and made a mental note to interrogate Earl on who was/is the decision maker around the uniform and why she shouldn’t brutally murder them. Of all the people she had to get stuck with, this one had a belly thing. Great.

Like a diva on her cue, her stomach chose that moment to grumble again. It reverberated throughout her core like a bass drum, frustrated with the meagre fare and liquor it had been receiving. She gave Kurt a withering glare. “Wipe that look off your face.”

Kurt turned a little red. “What look?”

She glowered “That one, asshole!”

“This is just my face! There’s no look! And I’m not looking like anything! Also, that” he pointed at Roxanne's bare stomach, “was not my fault.”

“Don’t you look at me like that.”

He raised his hands in surrender “I’m not!”

“Don’t even think about me right now.”

“I won’t!” he bemoaned.

“Good!” Roxanne was flush with anger and embarrassment. At least Kurt had gotten the message and was examining the floor miserably. All his former attempts at charm and charisma seemed to drain under her fury.

She put her martini to her lips and let the entire thing slide inside her mouth in one go. Her cheeks bulged as the cherries floated loose amongst the booze inside. Each were swallowed one by one with large amounts of gin as if they were pills. Audible gulps sent her meager snack and lots of alcohol down to her disquiet stomach. When she finished chugging Roxanne had to take several deep breaths.

As she breathed, her gaze settled back on Kurt who was making a clear effort not to look at her. He was now staring up at the old fake chandelier like it had suddenly become the most fascinating piece of art in the entire world. The dusty thing clinked its plastic faux glass beads together in the still air above them.

Roxanne stifled another little burp and put her glass down. She knew she was being harsh, but this guy was an oddity, would unabashedly leer at her, and in her mind, it was his fault she was in this mess at all. So what if she was mean to him? She owed him nothing and he was a creep.

A hunger pang caused her to wince. She had hoped that getting rip-roaringly drunk would at least make her forget about her irritatingly needy stomach, but things were going too slow. At most she felt a slight buzz on top of giving herself a tummy-ache. Kurt meanwhile fumbled while grabbing the bottle of gin, trying to avoid any visual contact with Roxanne. It was a sad sight. He eventually succeeded and filled his glass back up after several attempts, spilling as he went. She squinted at him sullenly. This was going to be a long, rough night at this rate.

Then Roxanne got an idea. Perhaps she could stand to be a little nicer to Kurt. It was just her hunger that was making her like this, really. Hangry he had said. If she could manage some niceties, and he could be a little less creepy, perhaps the two of them could play a little drinking game.

 It appeared Roxanne had crushed his debonair act so completely that he was now a dejected little mess; useless as company, and dreary as scenery. That was no fun for her and couldn’t be much fun for him. This might fix that, speed up her inebriation, maybe take his mind off her body, and it was less sloppy than just throwing back the whole bottle of gin here and now. Maybe if he (and she) was drunk, Kurt would be a little more tolerable too.

Doubtful she thought, but it was worth a shot.

“Speaking of…” she said aloud, confusing the un-telepathic Kurt. “Excuse me for a second.”

Roxanne slipped back out of the booth and crossed the bar floor. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it right. She collected several shot glasses from the partially cleaned racking and tiptoed her way back to her seat. The floor was either colder than she remembered, or the storm was causing the temperature to drop rapidly. Regardless, she would soon warm up from the inside out.

She dumped the glasses unceremoniously in a pile on the table, one rolling and falling off with a clunk. It didn’t break, so Roxanne didn’t try to retrieve it. She sat back down clumsily with a little “oof” and started lining some the glasses up; four in front of her, four in front of Kurt.

Kurt had absently placed his martini back on the table. He didn’t even look at what she was doing. Roxanne soon finished the set up and folded her hands neatly, resting her chin upon them. She made what she thought was a cute face and tilted her head to get his attention. Still nothing from her unlikely drinking buddy. If she was going to enjoy herself (and be drunk enough) to be distracted from her stomach's persistence and her growing late-night weariness there had to be some way to break him out of this funk. Fine, she thought, I’ll bite.

“So. Kurt. What’s in the bag?”

Kurt muddled his face. “What?”

Roxanne closed her eyes and tried again. “What’s in the bag?”

Kurt scrunched his brows together “Why do you care?”

“I don’t” she said flatly “But you clearly want me to, and I’m stuck in here with you tonight so...” She smiled with what she hoped was sincerity “What’s in the bag?”

Kurt rotated his body back to face her. He exhaled out his nose and regarded her with cautious doubt. “You’re awfully fickle, you know that?”

Roxanne shrugged “Meh. I’m a Gemini.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s just my star-sign...never mind forget I said it.” She inhaled sharply. “You gonna show me what you were trying to sell to my boss or what?”

Kurt eyed Roxanne with consternation. “I don’t know. You just said you don’t care, you’ve been nothing but mean to me, and frankly I don’t really want to show you anymore. What’s in it for me?”

Roxanne’s eyes glinted mischievously “I was thinking about that. How about a little drinking game? Match me shot for shot. I win and I get a peek inside the mystery bag. You outdrink me, and I’ll...” She braced herself “...let you touch my tummy. Once.”

Kurt seemed stunned. He stammered as he spoke “W-what makes you think that’s even close to a fair bet?”

Roxanne guffawed “Bro, you’re an open book. Besides, I know it’s not a fair bet. You think I want you touching my body? Don’t flatter yourself. Gross.”

“So then why even suggest it?”

Roxanne smiled with nothing but contempt at the skinny man across from her “Because I know there’s no way you outdrink me, dude. No offense.”

Kurt was incredulous. “You’ve been complaining about not having any food all night.”

“Yup.”

“And I’ve got at least 50 pounds on you.”

“Also Yup.”

Kurt scoffed “And you still want to play?”

Roxanne maintained her contentious grin “Because I think you’re a little bitch, a poser, and I want to prove it to myself. And to you. Bitch.”

That got Kurt riled exactly as Roxanne had hoped. It was one thing for him to be humbled for being a little creep, it was another thing entirely for him to be emasculated like this. He sat up straight, his cheeks flushed bright red. He slammed his hands on the table causing the little shot glasses to clink together.

“You’re on. Pour.”

Roxanne unclasped her hands eagerly and reached for the bottle of gin. She expertly filled all eight glasses with hardly a drop spilled. Putting down the bottle she swiped the first glass in front of her up and raised it high. “Ladies first, my guy. Cheers!” She shouted and threw her head and the gin back hard. Kurt grimly did the same. The two placed the glasses upside down on the tabletop. Kurt coughed slightly Roxanne laughed “And here I was worried four glasses wouldn’t be enough. You little lightweight!” She smirked looking him up and down “Literally.”

While Roxanne’s head did feel a little swimmy being two gin martinis and a shot in, she was feeling confident after watching Kurt take his. He was showing signs of getting drunk already. She hummed to herself, amused. She was hungry, a good few inches shorter than him and still this guy was coughing like a sophomore at their first party. He saw her watching him and got even redder in his cheeks. When he spoke, there was some venom behind his words, “It’s not my fault your gin is stronger than what I’m used to. I always forget when I come here…”

Roxanne laughed at him again. “Dude, it’s just bar-rail cheap stuff. It’s not that strong. I’m not gonna risk grabbing the good shit for this.” She snagged her second glass. “What the hell are you used to drinking?”

He bitterly followed suit picking up his second shot. “Gin,” he grumbled “but ours is a lot less…potent than this. I don’t know. Something in your atmospheric makeup maybe. It affects my head differently than normal.”

Roxanne snorted in her throat. “Ok, spaceman” she mocked “welcome to Manitoba.” She made a slurping sound deliberately as she swallowed the second shot and breathed a satisfied and performative “ahhhh” as she finished. She smiled smugly “Smooth.”

Kurt choked down the second glass of gin and wiped his face with his sleeve. “You don’t have to be an ass about it. Like I said, it’s not my fault. It’s the science of the thing.”

“Sure,” said Roxanne, “because the booze in Toronto, or the US, or wherever the hell you’re from is so different from us hicks up in Winnipeg. Shut up, nerd.” Roxanne hiccupped as she grabbed the third shot. The liquor was hitting her faster than she expected. “You know, you’re not as smart as you think you are buddy. You didn’t even know what a Gemini is. Who the hell doesn’t know basic astronomy?” She drank the gin. “Even my ex knew his star-signs, and he was a dumbass hockey bro. Fucking Scorpio’s man.”

Kurt mulled the shot glass like it was a fine wine, but with a face like it was swill. He drank it slower than would have been recommended when trying to win a drinking contest, needing a few gulps to fully take it in. When he spitefully put the glass down, he spoke. “It’s not like that, I’m aware of the pseudoscience of *astrology*. I’m just not familiar with what a Gemini is. Never heard of it. It’s not…” He trailed off, seemingly thinking better of what he was about to say next. He was swaying as he did. “Never mind. I think this was a mistake. I’m not feeling myself.”

Roxanne tutted disapprovingly. “Ah ah ah, a bet is a bet. We’ve only got one shot left to go. Don’t wimp out on me now man.” Despite her patronizing speech, her stomach was rolling. Four cherries floating in a sea of gin was not enough to satisfy her nor was it good for maintaining sobriety. She hoped that Kurt was at his breaking point. Bravely, she grabbed the fourth glass and picked it up. “Bottoms up!” She pinched her nose and opened her throat to make it as easy as possible. As it flowed into her stomach both her head and her guts were spinning. Roxanne held down a cough and spread her arms apart, posturing. Her voice was hoarse.

“Time to man up!”

Kurt was looking at the last full shot glass on the table like it was the most embarrassing and upsetting thing he had ever seen. “I don’t think I can do this...” he mumbled.

“Then Iiiii win! Ha!” Slurred the tipsy Roxanne, “No tummy time for you, loser! Gimme that bag!”

Kurt quickly pulled his backpack back out of Roxanne’s reach as she lunged awkwardly across the table for the strap. She pouted, and he put a finger in the air as a pause. “No...no. Not yet. Just gimme a minute.” He put his fist to his mouth and puffed his cheeks, never taking his angry eyes off the glass on the table. Finally mustering his courage Kurt picked up the shot.

In what Roxanne thought took absolute ages, Kurt drank his gin. It wasn’t without struggle and if she was a little more sober, she would have noticed how much he spilled on himself. Regardless, he somehow managed it and slammed the little glass down with a gruff growl. Roxanne was almost impressed.

Almost.

Kurt looked very satisfied with himself. He beamed at her across the table, his cheeks bright red and fully liquored. “See? You can’t beat me Rox-” The shit-eating grin he wore suddenly dissipated. Replaced with a look of dread as red cheeks changed very suddenly into green. Kurt bolted from the booth and barely made it to the sink at the bar when all four shots and both martinis resurfaced.

Kurt Retched. Roxanne cackled. She was kicking her feet in the air and holding her pained belly in mirth “Oh my god!” She bellowed, “Hahahaha, you were soooo pleased with yourself! So confident! Oh my god, oh my god, that was just too perfect…” She wiped away a tear as she giggled and cupped her hand with which to yell over to Kurt “Hey, try to get that all in the sink! I worked my ass off cleaning that bar ya know!”

As Kurt emptied himself, Roxanne turned her attention to the backpack on the table. “Looks like I win after all.” Like a giddy kid on Christmas she pulled the bag over the booth to her side. It was lighter than she expected. Unzipping it slowly to build as much suspense as she could, Roxanne was brimming with anticipation as she reached inside. Finally she’d figure out what this weirdo was all about, and all it cost her was her sobriety.

When the bag was fully open at first Roxanne was confused. There appeared to be only crumpled balls of paper within. She realized as she was digging through them that they were likely a hastily improvised protective filler. Soon her hand clasped around something solid. When she pulled out her prize, Roxanne found herself disappointed.

She was holding a gun that looked like it was straight out of a sci-fi serial. It was covered in white melamine plastic as shiny as Earl’s bald head. The gun was lightweight; it felt like a children’s toy in her hand. The handle was curved ergonomically and had an addition on the bottom that looked like a power outlet for charging. The body had a purple fin on the top that had no obvious purpose beyond aesthetic. The barrel itself was ringed by three hoops of diminishing size finishing in a ball point that hummed subtly. Three unmarked buttons lined the side, with the one furthest down currently pushed in and flashing green.

She blinked. “What the hell is this?”

Kurt shivered as he finished vomiting and turned the faucet on to wash what was solid down the drain. He wearily lifted himself to see what Roxanne was yelling about. Upon seeing her and the gun he immediately felt the blood drain to his feet. Slowly he stood, and even slower he put his hands out pleadingly, walking towards Roxanne.

“Roxanne.” Kurt said, suddenly feeling very sober “Please be careful with that. It’s very dangerous.”

“Pffft.” Blew the still very drunk Roxanne “Dangerous? Shut up. This is what you were gonna sell my boss? What is it, some sort of movie prop? Video game merch?”

Kurt grimaced. “No. No it is not. If you put it down on the table, I promise I’ll tell you all about it.”

Roxanne stared at him. “Dude. I’m not gonna break it. I’m drunk, not stupid.”

Kurt continued “I know you’re not, but I would appreciate it if you would put it down. Call it a courtesy.”

She snorted “No way I’m doing you a Kurt-isy bud.” She chuckled at her own humor. “What’s got such a stick up your ass, eh? It’s a toy gun. So like, if I pointed it at you liiiiike this…”

Kurt froze as she slowly, shakily, aimed at him. Seeing the genuine fear in his face, Roxanne felt bad for a second. After all, they were both drunk. She was just trying to mess with him over this stupid plaything, not actually upset him. And in the end, she got what she wanted; gloriously gong-showed. If it made him that afraid and worried, she’d stop. She wasn’t a monster. She was lowering her aim when Kurt started begging.

“Roxy, please…”

Strike two. Roxanne made a “pew” sound and pulled the trigger.

A translucent green and purple light darted out of the ball tip at rapid speed. It was narrower than a pencil, and appeared to cause no harm to Kurt as it struck him, not even making him flinch. Half a second later and with a silent and invisible poof, Kurt was gone. His clothes collapsed in a tidy pile where he was once standing. The gun whirred, made a click, and the lights on it went dim.

Roxanne stared. Then she screamed.

She dropped the gun which landed with a muffled plunk on the carpet and fell to her knees. She thought it was a toy! There’s no way she actually just shot a man. With a ray gun! She didn’t know it was a ray gun. It looked like a toy. She was certain it was a toy. She wasn’t a killer after all. She wasn’t a monster like that.

Or, maybe, now she was.

Roxanne ground her teeth. Snap out of it, girl! Struggling to regain herself, Roxanne shook her head a few times to clear her mind. Damn that gin! Her judgement was all messed up. She frantically crawled over to the pile of clothes that was once Kurt muttering under her breath as she went. “Shit, shit, shit, shit...”

She had expected to find blood, ashes, remains that she could make sense of (or clean up), but she found nothing of the sort. The clothing was unscathed, not even a mark where the beam had hit. What she did find was completely unexpected. Sitting in the middle of the pile was Kurt no bigger than 4cm and completely nude except for his glasses.

Roxanne’s jaw dropped. “No fucking way.”

Kurt was livid “What the fuck! Why? WHY?” He squeaked up at her. He was almost hopping with rage but kept losing his footing in his former attire. Roxanne couldn’t help but giggle at the scene, which just made the tiny man even more angry. “What’s so fucking funny?” He demanded.

“You! You’re so tiny!” giggled Roxanne. ‘And your voice! It’s like a cartoon!”

“No Shit!” He peeped. “You shot me with the A.M.P!”

Roxanne stared. “The what?”

Kurt was fuming “The Accelerated Minimizing Projectile! The gun, dammit woman, the gun!”

“You mean the ray gun? It is a shrink ray, right? I think I figured it out…”

“It’s called the A.M.P.!!!”

She rolled her eyes “It’s a shrink ray, my guy. Don’t be such a dork.”

“Fuck you!” He shrieked.

Roxanne clicked her tongue. “Buddyyyy, calm down alright? Lemme go get the ray gun and fix this...”

Kurt began to protest, but she was already moving away and couldn’t hear his little voice. She stood, looming over him like a titan. Through her inebriation she hated ever more whoever designed the uniform; she was acutely aware of the perspective the diminutive Kurt had below. She briskly made her way over to where she dropped the shrink ray and retrieved it. As she made her way back to Kurt, her approach shook his newly microscopic world like an earthquake. He was barely upright when she finally reached him

“Alright,” she said holding the shrink ray in one hand like a gunslinger “what button fixes this?”

Kurt was seething. “None of them! If you had listened to me and not barreled off like that, you would have heard me saying that the A.M.P. can’t reverse this! I’d need its counterpart in the lab! Think and listen next time when playing with things you don’t understand!”

Roxanne felt a vein twitching in her forehead. Maybe it was the booze, but she found he was back to being annoying. “Man, you need to chill. We’ll go in the morning, alright? Once the plows clear the streets.”

“No! We must go RIGHT NOW!”

“I’m not going out there in this! And in this, asshole!” Said Roxanne, gesturing to her outfit and the storm.

Kurt dismissed her arguments with a wild gesture. “The portal is still open! I didn’t close it in case of this exact situation! We can go right now! Go get my bag!”

Roxanne ignored him. She was losing her patience. “You’re in no position to demand anything, little man. In fact…” She raised a bare foot ominously over him and wiggled her toes “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

She angled her foot, pointed her toes, and slammed down half an inch to Kurt’s left. Considering her drunken state, it could have been considered quite impressive aim for intimidation. Could have, that is, had Roxanne not intended to land her foot a good deal further away. Kurt’s anger turned to panic as pink nail polished toes flattened the mound of clothes he was standing on. He lost his footing; he slid down his now gargantuan shirt and collided with her big toe. Her skin was soft, but the muscles in her foot were strong and foreboding. She wiggled her toes in a teasing fashion, causing Kurt to buck with the movement. He pushed himself off and away with urgency as Roxanne removed her arch up and off his linen prison. She chuckled to herself at his predicament.

Her laughter removed his panic and returned Kurt to ire. “That wasn’t funny!”

“Nah, I think it was!” giggled Roxanne “Hope that helped put you in your place. Learn your lesson about mouthing off to people bigger than you.” She smirked at his diminutive form.

Kurt did not learn; it only enraged him further. “Roxanne, you idiot, I swear to god…”

“Nope.” She angrily kicked at him, the ball of her right foot colliding with Kurt’s midriff and sending him tumbling head over heels into what was once his lab coat. He gagged as the wind was knocked out of him, laying in a heap and in agony.

“You don’t get to talk like that to me tiny. No more lectures, no more scolding, and no more not listening to me.”

Kurt painfully, bitterly, pushed himself up. “Not listening to YOU? You’re not listening to ME! You shrank me! We need to fix this!!!”

“By accident!”  Roxanne retorted.

“And then you kicked me!” he bellowed.

“That’s...ok that one was on purpose, but you deserved it! Not my fault!”

“We. Need. To fix this!!!”

“I know!”

“Right now!”

“I know!!!”

“You’re going to be in so much fucking trouble-”

“I KNOW! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!”

This wasn’t fun anymore. Roxanne knelt and scooped up the bruised little nerd in her hand and cupped him like a ball. She marched back over to the booth they had been sharing and dumped him onto the wooden tabletop carelessly. The drunk bartender threw herself into the booth roughly, dropped her head into her arms on the table, and groaned. As loathe as she was to admit it, the tiny dork was right. It may have been an accident to shrink the guy, but he clearly didn’t see it that way. He was pulling himself together after the whirlwind of movement he just experienced and was visibly mad. Given how small he was it was like she was looking at a very angry pollypocket. A very justifiably angry pollypocket, the sober part of her brain reminded. She had hurt him, that was for sure. Not to mention the trauma of being shrunk must be a doozy. Her thoughts drifted to what jail must be like. Hopefully the food is better than Earl’s slop...

*Grrrrrrrr…* moaned Roxanne’s stomach.

She winced, regretting thinking about food. Damn the cook for locking up so completely! The alcohol had very nearly helped her forget about that problem. Now here she was moping about and allowing her last bits of sobriety to make her feel guilty for bullying the little creep.

She reached across the table and sloppily grabbed the nearly empty bottle of gin. She nearly clipped Kurt with it as she hauled it gracelessly up to her mouth for a big swig.

Kurt was protesting (quite loudly for one so small) below her on the table. He was literally hopping mad as he struggled to get Roxanne’s attention. She took another big gulp of the bottle. Some of what he was saying she could make out through the liquored haze, things like “doorway”, “extradimensional”, or “indefinitely” and other scientist mumbo jumbo.

We should listen, urged her dwindling sobriety, it may be important. Maybe it’ll help us get him back to normal and then he’ll forgive us, and we won’t go to jail.

Instead, Roxanne opted to drown out the sobriety with another long sip of gin. The 26er was nearly empty now, hardly a mouthful in the bottle. Her belly ached from the lack of solid food.

*Clink!* went some glass, snapping Roxanne back to reality. The tiny Kurt had climbed one of the empty shot glasses in front of her face from their previous drinking game and was waving his arms like an angry little air traffic controller. The sight made her laugh. Her laugh made Kurt even more upset, were it possible.

“Look atchu!” stumbled Roxanne, “You’re a little man sitting on the edge of the glass. Just like in that drinking game. In fact…”

Smiling to herself at her brilliantly inebriated idea, Roxanne poured the remainder of the bottle into the shot glass. It was sloppy, dousing Kurt in gin as the liquor flowed over his entire torso.

“So now, all I gotta do is remember to remove the little man from my glass before I drink!” She smirked “What a stupid easy game.”

She pinched Kurt delicately and lifted him up before sipping from the shot glass. He made a slight “Oof” as she did so, but he was too shocked at being soaked in alcohol to resist much. Not that he could; he was smaller than the digits that held him. Roxanne put the shot down, half empty, and put Kurt back on the rim.

This is dangerous the dying sober part of her brain said, one mistake and suddenly…

Kurt seemed to agree. His rage had subsided into something more akin to begging. But what was there to worry about? She wasn’t that drunk. Sour, she grabbed the shot glass and brought it to her lips. It was just a game after all.

Something bumped her lip just below her nose. What felt like tiny fists were beating into her skin. A foot slipped between her lips as she sipped the gin. She had lost the game. Shit.

In her surprise she dropped the glass and spit out much of the gin already in her mouth. Kurt went tumbling onto the table as Roxanne tried to apologize, albeit half-heartedly. “Shit. Sorry. I uh…guess I lose the game?”

Kurt didn’t respond. He was groaning on the hardwood table after landing heavy. Roxanne twitched “Hey, dude, don’t be such a baby alright? I said I was sorry, and that’s that. Don’t be so dramatic, I didn’t drink ya. And you should be sorry too, you made me spill the last of the gin! Now it’s everywhere all over the table.”

Another agonized and painful groan was the only response she got from the shrunken man. The nerve of this guy! This entire thing was his fault. Had he not shown up she wouldn’t have been delayed. Had she not been delayed, she could have (maybe) beaten the snowstorm. If she had beaten the snowstorm, she’d be home in her comfy bed and well fed instead of looking after some shrunken man! Some stuck-up, arrogant, insignificant, gin-soaked, bite-sized-

Roxanne’s breath caught. Her stomach growled softly. She looked at Kurt and bit her lip. Don’t you dare pleaded the little voice of reason weakly. Far too weakly.

Kurt meanwhile was catching his wind. He was struggling to push himself up from a prone position to all fours. He hadn’t heard most of what the drunk giant woman above him had said; his head was throbbing from her strike. But he did hear a rumbling louder than a truck’s engine emanating from her body. His instincts got his fear up and the hair stood on the back of his neck. Something was wrong, and it wasn’t his bruised body.

“Hey Kurt?” cooed Roxanne.

 He came to his senses enough to observe Roxanne gazing at him like a piece of meat. He was still fuzzy when Roxanne posed a fateful, innocent question.

She hummed through her lips and asked, “You still think bellies are cute, right?”

His hair stood on end as a giant manicured hand with pink nails reached down for him. Roxanne leaned lower with a lusty grin. It descended slowly, eventually blocking Roxanne’s face from his vision as she closed on his beaten frame. Every instinct in his soul told him to run, but Kurt’s body was sore, and he couldn’t even bring himself to his knees.

Roxanne’s hand closed around Kurt like a cage. He cried out in fright as he was grabbed, but there was no resisting her. She grasped the shrunken man like he was a toy and her fingers deftly flipped him around so that he was eventually lying face-down and flat on her palm. His appendages felt a bit weird; little movements and twitches reminding her that this particular hors d’oeuvre was in fact a tiny man. She regarded him there for a moment and prodded him with her thumb, eliciting a yelp as he was rolled over to his back. His eyes were wide, and he was panting in her hand.

Roxanne’s head was illuminated by the restaurant’s lighting above, making an angelic glow form around her figure as she blocked the fluorescents from Kurt’s view. Her ponytail had flipped over, draping her face with curtains of hair. Emerald eyes gleamed predatorily at Kurt, and her pink lip-gloss coated lips formed a thin smile.

“Hey there” was all she said.

 She sat upright, a sensation that caused his ears to pop as the elevation changed. Kurt shut his eyes tight as she shifted him around again so that his shoulders were pinched between her index finger and thumb. The ground (Roxanne’s palm) fell from under him and he dangled in her vice-like grip. He was in incredible discomfort in his current position with his arms and shoulders squished awkwardly together by her fingertips. Kurt was only able to bend at the elbow and to kick his feet in futility. His glasses that had inexplicably shrunk with him were askew on his scruffy face.

His eyes opened timidly, held as he was in front of his captor’s giant visage. For a moment, Roxanne had a twinge of doubt, as if this might be the wrong thing to do. Did Kurt really deserve this? Was she capable of going through with it? Her logical brain was trying desperately to break through to chide her alcohol dulled inhibitions.

Kurt saw the doubt, and his chance “Roxy…please listen…”

Her brows furrowed. Her stomach begged. Strike three.

With a subtle lick her plush lips parted, and she flung Kurt past and inside, across her front teeth, and onto her tongue. Like a sturdier, squirmier candy he landed with a saliva drenched splat. Roxanne closed her lips into a pucker and immediately pushed the tiny man into her palate to savor him. She was eager to taste him; Roxanne had been curious from the moment she had decided on this path how he would fare.

To her surprise he was better than she expected, which wasn’t much. A bit bland, and saltier than she’d figured he’d be. Almost salty sweet. He started to squirm weakly, a leg or two pushing against the roof of her mouth. She used her tongue to flip him around and push his body into her cheek. Roxanne heard him yelp inside and couldn’t help but smile. She was having fun again. This time Kurt used an arm to push her back, making a little bulge in the side of her mouth. Roxanne sucked inwards and swished him from cheek to cheek, hoping to tire him out in the process. He resisted weakly, trying to stop her toying and tasting, but her tongue was both bigger and stronger than he was. He was thrown from the pocket of one cheek to another, once, twice, thrice. This had the added benefit of completely coating him in slippery spittle, making Kurt nice and lubricated and far easier for Roxanne to handle. Like a wet little gummy bear.

Roxanne gave a short and satisfied “Mmm.” She stopped sucking on her tiny treat and decided it was time. The tip of her tongue plucked him up from the current cheek he was shoved in and placed him onto her back teeth. She felt Kurt’s exhausted body land on her molars. He was barely moving, less a person and more like any other piece of inanimate food. Good, she thought makes it easy. She was about to chomp down when she paused, remembering the cherry from earlier. Kurt was bigger than a cherry and was likely twice as…juicy. The thought of all that blood and gore all over her teeth and tongue made her stomach turn. The last thing she needed was to lose her appetite, so Roxanne pulled him off her teeth and to the back and middle of her mouth under her soft palate. The tiny man rested almost with relief on her tongue. Would she be able to swallow him whole, she wondered?

She shrugged. One way to find out.

The back of her tongue lifted and forced the squirming Kurt into her gullet. The first swallow didn’t send him down, and Kurt it seemed had gotten his second wind. He had pressed his legs against the back of her throat and stuck himself in a vain effort at preventing her from eating him. Roxanne coughed lightly, jostling her snack. Kurt was shouting something in a panic, but it was muffled and garbled inside her neck. She resisted the urge to gag as he squirmed and swallowed harder. She could feel his desperation as he slid backward further, a literal lump in throat. Her muscles squeezed around his body as she had forced half of him into her esophagus. He was trying to find a handhold, a grip, but everything inside was too slick and pushing him deeper in her hunger. With a final, third and wet “gulp” Roxanne felt the tiny man succumb. Kurt was swallowed down. It was surprisingly quick, and she breathed a sigh of relief as a short second later she felt a grumble in her belly. She smirked, Looks like he’s home.

She placed her free hand on her bare midriff, partly in satisfaction, partly in disbelief. She ate him. She had eaten a person. Her stomach gurgled with satisfaction; the protein of Kurt would prove to be meagre, but at least he was better than any cocktail cherry. Tastier too.

Despite the moral ramifications, Roxanne was contented. Almost happy. Kurt was thrashing in her belly, a most peculiar sensation, but she didn’t hate it. It was almost not noticeable at all. His movements did have the unfortunate side effect of making her burp, which she did softly as she covered her mouth. “Excuse me! Or should I say excuse you, buddy?” She teased as she rubbed her tummy. “Sorry, I should have mentioned that you would be seeing my belly from the inside. It’s still cute right? Tell me it’s cute, Kurt.”

Her stomach gurgled, and she gave it a smug little pat. “I’ll take that as a yes. Get comfy bud and uh…we’ll see you in the morning.” Roxanne snorted as she laughed at her own joke.

 Her teasing stopped when she felt something pointy jabbing into her tongue. Curious, Roxanne reached inside her mouth and awkwardly plucked whatever had poked her out between her fingers and removed it. What she revealed was Kurt’s square rimmed glasses. Slobbery. Cracked. The last remnant of their former owner. Roxanne hiccupped at the sight.

Then with an amused eyeroll she flicked the miniscule spectacles nonchalantly across the Edge of the Universe and set about cleaning up Kurt’s clothes and tidying up the many drinks the two had shared. They’d get vacuumed up by the day staff, not her problem. As far as she was concerned Kurt was gone, glasses and all, and that meant she could finally, drunkenly, focus. She had a bar to close.

*                                              *                                              *                                              *

The giant woman’s mouth opened when the tip of her tongue poked out in a subtle, lubricating lick. Pink and plush lips parted, and warm boozy air wafted over Kurt; Roxanne’s humid breath rousing him out of his wounded stupor. He knew what was about to happen. He had been dreading it. She was going to eat him.

Time seemed to slow as Roxanne’s wrist flicked Kurt’s body into open air, his trajectory looking to land directly onto her tongue. Strands of saliva snapped off the roof of her mouth and her teeth as Kurt soared past glossy lips and sharp incisors. The air quickly turned away from the chilly and cold atmosphere of the Winnipeg restaurant; instead he was enveloped by the hot and heavy warmth that was the inside of Roxanne’s mouth.

When he landed it was face first and painful; her spongy tongue only absorbing so much of the impact. Her taste buds were slick with excess, a fortunate if dreadful circumstance of Roxanne’s increased salivation in her enthusiasm to devour him. What would typically be a rough surface was, for now at least, soft.

The light of the bar was snuffed out as Roxanne’s mouth slammed shut behind him. An eerie red glow emitted from between the tightly puckered lips that allowed only limited vision for Kurt. He had only a moment of this sinister peace before he was pushed upwards with force into her hard palate. His back struck the roof of Roxanne’s mouth and Kurt had the air knocked out of him for a second time. An intense pressure began pulling Kurt’s body in all directions as Roxanne started sucking on his tender body. Freshly secreted saliva washed over him and was subsequently swallowed while her tongue grinded her taste buds against his every inch.

She’s savoring me he realized in horror.

Kurt panicked. When there was a brief respite in her suckling, he bent his legs and donkey-kicked into her. He pushed with all the strength in his now tiny body.

Roxanne seemed to notice. She relented in her tasting of him and lowered him down to a less smothering position just behind her incisors.

Kurt had less than a second to catch his breath as he was tossed bodily into her left cheek. He screamed as her tongue rose up like a beast and thrust him past her teeth into the elastic wall. Kurt choked on her spit; he was soaked to the bone by Roxanne’s slobber. He shoved his arms out into her flesh to create some breathing room. Roxanne put a stop to this with an air-removing lurch and Kurt was violently shoveled off and over her tongue and into her right cheek. He coughed as he unwillingly swallowed her increased salivations. There was no time to collect himself in his new position; Kurt was flushed and swished several more times between her cheeks, much to Roxanne’s apparent enjoyment. A loud “Mmmmmm” that he felt boom in his own chest confirmed that fact. How many times he was sloshed back and forth Kurt could not say. His mind was focused on trying to breathe.

The sloshing stopped, and Kurt found himself pulled out of the cheek he was in by Roxanne’s tongue. It picked him up like he was nothing and dropped him hard against her marble-like molars. Her teeth. He realized in terror what she was about to do.

Fearfully Kurt stared into the darkness of her mouth. What little dim light trickled in from her lips permitted him to see the silhouette of the perfect porcelain looming above him. There were still pieces of masticated cherry stuck in between the gaps in her teeth and plastered to her gums. A gruesome foreshadow of his fate. Globs of drool fell from above and onto his head like oversized raindrops as he stared, eyes wide.

Yet no chewing came. Were it not for the sound of her breathing and the subtle twitches of her titanic body, Kurt could have said Roxanne had frozen solid.

Why hasn’t she done it yet? What is she waiting for?

Suddenly her cheek flexed. He was unscrupulously removed from his precarious position by Roxanne with a shove and a poke from her tongue. He landed prone with a wet flop. Deftly she started to maneuver him into the middle of her mouth.

No, not the middle. The back.

Kurt whipped his head up and glanced over his shoulder. He was staring at the back of Roxanne’s throat, her slightly crooked uvula bobbing indifferently and glistening in the low light. His calves were nearly over the precipice of the abyss.

The strong tongue below him rolled up like a wave, and Kurt once again found himself being pulled involuntarily by powerful suction. He slid backwards into Roxanne’s gullet and would have been swallowed then and there had he not pushed his feet into the slick and fleshy wall at the back. He tried to dig in.

Roxanne coughed slightly as a reaction. It blasted his eardrums. Muscles and mucus squeezed and covered Kurt in equal measure as her body flexed. His lower half was effectively in her throat, with only his shoulders and head still on her tongue. The coughing had the effect shaken him from his position, he had become unstuck. She swallowed again. Kurt was caught off guard and lost the hold he had. He felt his feet and legs enter her esophagus. The herculean strength of her throat was pulling urgently downward.

His face was pressed painfully down against the rear of her tongue. The opening to her throat tightened. Her uvula bashed his head from above as it bobbed. His glasses, somehow stuck to his face by Roxanne’s spittle, started to slip off from the squeeze. She swallowed a third and final time. Her throat squelched. A tight tubular grasp yanked him down. The loud and wet “GLURP” made his ears pop. The last thing Kurt saw were his glasses, slicking off his face and sticking themselves onto Roxanne’s bouncing uvula.

The descent was claustrophobic. Kurt slipped down a tight tube with no room to move, nor even breathe. A cacophony of unwelcome sounds surrounded him: Roxanne’s heightened and uneven breathing. A rapid and excited heartbeat that grew louder the deeper he went into the bartender. And rising to meet him, the angry gurgles of a mostly empty belly.

Kurt’s feet soon hit a firm bottom; the sphincter leading to her stomach. He wiggled desperately at this point of no return. His movements did nothing. He was squished through the valve with a sickening “shluck” and was deposited into the chamber below indifferently by Roxanne’s body. He was just another piece of food, the first real food her body could enjoy tonight.

Her stomach reeked of alcohol and was still filled with liquid. Kurt found himself in a frothy mix of stomach acid, gin, and partially digested cherries. He thrashed, throwing one of the garnishes against the lining of her stomach, lashing out in frustration as Roxanne’s stomach churned, punching and kicking with what little strength he had left. The chime foamed and bubbled with his erratic movements. The stomach clenched, forcing large amounts of air back up from where Kurt had arrived. A muffled belch thundered above. Kurt hung his head in dismay as he realized what happened. The breathable air inside her body had just decreased, and it was his fault. He stopped his struggles. Loud thumps threw Kurt off balance as Roxanne smacked his prison. He barely got his bearings when the digestion was suddenly made worse by a swaying motion as Roxanne began to move.

At the whims of Roxanne’s body Kurt was thrown to and frow as she walked. It would have been rhythmic were she not so drunk. The gin around him steadily drained into her intestines, allowing the potency of the foamy acid to return and cause his skin to tingle. Time slipped by at an agonizing pace. Kurt was bitterly grateful for the occasional pat from Roxanne keeping him awake, or dampened speech coming from above. He could only assume she was talking to him in her gut. Kurt tried valiantly to maintain consciousness, but he could feel himself fading in the fumes and low oxygen. It didn’t help that she’d occasionally burp or hiccup.

 He decided he no longer thought Roxanne’s belly was cute. He regretted ever flirting with the woman in the first place. He had realized he hated this accursed and shabby bar. He wished he had never made the acquaintance of the man who commissioned the A.M.P. And worst of all, they all had one thing in common. This vile city, on this forsaken planet, in this backwater dimension.

As his awareness slipped into darkness, Kurt had only one refrain left in his mind, one he repeated like a mantra. The sole thought that carried as Kurt was slowly digested inside Roxanne’s depths:

“I hate Winnipeg.”

*                                              *                                              *                                              *

A cold wind blew into the Edge of the Universe escorted by the delicate light of the morning. Its harbinger was a big balding man with hands almost the size of the shovelhead he carried. He pulled open the frozen glass door across the partially cleared snowbanks. It complained audibly and resisted his efforts. Once sufficiently ajar, he shimmied into the restaurant with some urgency about him. Scanning the empty establishment Earl dropped the shovel which landed with an echo-y clang and removed his mitts and hat.

“Roxanne?!?! Roxanne are you in here?”

There was no sign of life inside The Edge from where Earl stood. He meandered his way through the booths hunting for any sign of the errant bartender. Earl rubbed his hands together, both to warm them and with increasing anxiety as he searched for the woman that he had abandoned last night.

“Dammit Roxy, where are you girl…”

The droning sound of a hand dryer took Earl’s attention to the women’s bathroom across the dining room. The door flung open to reveal a dark-eyed and disheveled Roxxane. Her Uniform was a mess; wrinkled from sleeping on a booth bench that night, covered in dirt and grime from her shift, and her blouse was falling off one shoulder. Her thick brown hair, which she usually worked so hard to keep tidy, was tangled in a bird’s nest on top of her head. Her palms were still damp with water that the less than efficient hand dryers failed to fully dry after washing up.

She yawned at the cook and mumbled groggily “I told you Earl, don’t call me Roxy.”

Earl whooped, and with surprising speed barreled over to the very hungover Roxanne. He scooped her up into a bearhug and squeezed her so tight Roxanne felt like her eyes were bulging out of their sockets. She didn’t even have breath left to word her protests.

“Thank God you’re alright girlie!” He gushed “I was afraid you’d gone out into the storm, and I would never have been able to forgive myself if something happened. Damn good thing you had the common sense to stay here. More than just a pretty face, eh? Ha!”

Earl put her down gently. Roxanne brushed herself off from his embrace, but she was truly glad he was here. The big man had a way of bringing her mood up. “Thanks Earl. For coming to get me.”

Earl beamed “Of course Roxanne. I’m just sorry that I left and that I didn’t let you do the same. Let me make it up to you with a rustic breakfast courtesy of the greatest chef in the city, eh?”

“Ah.” said Roxanne, casting her eyes downward “Thanks bud, but I don’t really have an appetite right now. My dinner is still uh…disagreeing with me.” She made an apologetic face at the chef.

Earl put his hands up “Say no more! I know better than to probe a woman with a tummy ache. My wife taught me that lesson loooong ago. Ha!”

Roxanne was grateful, “I appreciate it, big guy. Seriously. If it’s ok with you, I just want to get my things and go home. It was a long night.”

“I’ll bet,” called a male voice from the open entrance of the bar “but before you go, I’d like to check in with you myself. Company protocol, Miss Lecroix.”

In the doorway crouched a man. He was squatting over the carpet plucking what looked like specks of dirt out of the fibers. When he stood upright, he dwarfed even Earl in height. Broad shoulders filled out a red flannel jacket, and blue jeans denoted an air of causality in his attire. Short cut strawberry-blonde hair was accented by a short red beard on a very friendly and pleasant face that hid cold eyes. He clapped his hands together expectantly. “Shall we walk and talk?”

Roxanne sighed. “If you say so Mr. M.”

Earl nodded solemnly. “Boss.”

The large chef hobbled off to lean on the bar top as Roxanne approached her employer. He smiled wide. “I hope you don’t mind me inspecting the place as we chat. Just checking to make sure everything is in order. Not often we get this kind of weather or circumstance, eh?”

Roxanne shook her head in agreement. “Nope, can’t say it’s normal. And of course, do what you gotta do Mr. M.”

“Wonderful, and just Marcus please. Thank you, Miss Lecroix. Or do you prefer Roxanne?”

Roxanne shrugged tiredly. “Roxanne is fine.”

Her boss tapped a finger against the side of his nose “But never Roxy! I remember. Those that do tend to befall unfortunate ends from what Earl tells me.”

Roxanne flinched “I uh...just don’t like the nickname is all.”

“Roxanne it is then. Something tells me I don’t want to end up on your bad side.” Marcus wasn’t looking at her as they walked the aisles; rather he was meticulously looking in each booth as if for something specific. He continued, “I am sorry that you got stuck here last night. That’s my fault. I knew we were in for it bad with the weather, but I had instructed Earl to remain open as long as possible. I hadn’t expected him to leave and abandon you here alone.” He cast a cold glance up at the bar where Earl sat. The cook averted his gaze, so Marcus kept going on.

“Regardless I assure you, you will be compensated for your time last night. No one should have had to endure that.”

Roxanne was surprised “That’s really kind of you Mr. M, but I’m ok. Honestly. I kind of helped myself to some liquid courage to get through the night. That’s enough for me.”

“So I noticed” said Marcus flatly. He turned around to face Roxanne with genuine concern “I’m shocked you didn’t have alcohol poisoning after finishing an entire bottle of gin yourself.”

Roxanne brushed her hair back sheepishly. “I um…ate.”

Marcus gave her a long look. “Indeed.” he mused, “Well, I’m glad you’re alright. And minus one bottle of gin The Edge appears in order. No harm, no foul. One last thing if you don’t mind Roxanne.”

She shrugged again “Shoot.”

“Did a gentleman by the name of Kurtis Marlow come by the bar late last night?”

Roxanne was taken off guard. She stammered “W-what?”

Her boss didn’t skip a beat. “Kurtis Marlow. Little shorter than me, brown hair. A bit of an odd guy. He’s a scientist, of a sort. Did he show up before the storm hit?”

Roxanne subconsciously put a hand on her stomach. She clumsily attempted to pass it off as scratching an itch. Her mind was racing as her employer waited for her answer. Get a grip girl, she thought, no need to tell the whole truth. Not like anyone would believe you anyways. Calm down. Breathe.

Roxanne did breathe. “Yep” She said confidently and to her own amazement “He did! The guy was going on about selling you something. He left his backpack here for you. Something about an amp? I put it behind the bar. You wanna see it?”

Marcus barely moved. Instead of responding to Roxanne he spoke to the cook who was still pretending to not be watching from his stool at the bar. “Earl? I assume you heard all that. Can you fetch Dr. Marlow’s bag for me?”

Earl nodded obediently and disappeared behind the bar. He emerged with the bag over one shoulder and made his way over to where Marcus and Roxanne stood. He handed the bag over and mumbled “Boss.” Marcus swiftly tore open the bag and fished the shrink ray out of the wads of paper. Unlike when Roxanne had found it, all the lights were out along its side and there was no subtle hum as there was when she had used it. Marcus nonchalantly pointed the gun at Earl and pulled the trigger.

Roxanne squeaked in fright. Earl flinched.

Nothing happened.

The silence was deafening inside the Edge of the Universe. It was broken by the proprietor chuckling softly. He put the gun in the backpack and zipped it up.

“What a silly little collectible! I wonder why he thought I would even be interested in this.” He handed the bag to Roxanne who took it reluctantly. He smiled at her. “Roxanne, could you be a dear and return this to Dr. Marlow? I’ve never been one for sci-fi toys and trinkets.”

Roxanne flushed “I don’t think I can do that Mr. M.”

He raised an eyebrow “Marcus please. And why not?”

Roxanne thought quickly “Well…he never gave me an address. Nor his contact info. I did ask though, I swear.”

Marcus stroked his beard thoughtfully “Kurtis isn’t one to leave his property unattended. Even gimmicky crap like this.” He nodded assuredly, “He must be somewhere nearby, I’m sure we’ll locate him.”

Roxanne felt a weak gurgle coming from her lower abdomen. She shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t think that he is, to be honest. I’m pretty sure he uh…moved along.” She shifted on one foot “He was actually quite eager to get out of here. Not a very nice guy.”

Marcus frowned. “He didn’t do anything untoward did he? I would hate to have my employees accosted by my acquaintances.”

Roxanne shook her head “Nothing I couldn’t handle, boss.”

“Good.” Sighed her employer, “I’m glad. Still, you’d think he’d act in better taste.”

“Taste wasn’t the issue.” mumbled Roxanne. Earl looked at her quizzically. She was acting coy, at least more so than usual. And to their boss no less.

Marcus paid no heed. “Still, to harass my employees in any way, shape, or form, and not deliver on the promised goods.” He shook his head disapprovingly.

Earl sniffed, eyes on Roxanne. “What a piece of shit.”

Roxanne snorted. “Yuuuup.”

Marcus was ignoring the odd way Roxanne was acting and smiled “Well, that’s all my questions Roxanne. Since it seems Dr Marlow won’t be retrieving his property, and I have no use for such useless knickknacks, why don’t you keep the thing? Consider it a gift for the ordeal.”

Roxanne was stunned. “Are you sure? Is that a good idea?”

The man scoffed “Why wouldn’t it be? Not only is this not what I had ordered from the doctor, it doesn’t appear to be anything dangerous. Just a toy. If you don’t want it, I’m sure it’s some collectible you can sell.”

Roxanne surprised herself again when she hastily stepped forward “No, I want it. Thank you, Marcus. Mr. M. Sir.” She tripped over her words in her eagerness. Earl was staring her down now. She was acting unlike herself.

Marcus waved it off “No trouble at all Roxanne, and don’t worry about your shift tonight. I’ll call Lily and have her fill in for you so you can get some proper rest at home.” The tall man smiled “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some phone calls to make. Earl, I’ll be in my office.” With a nod he left his employees and ascended the great staircase that led to the upper level. A soft click indicated that he had locked his office after he closed the door. Earl turned and grabbed Roxanne by the wrist with speed.

“Earl?” Shrieked Roxanne, “let me go!”

Earl’s face was stone. He did loosen his grip so as not to hurt her, but he did not release it. “Listen little lady, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but cut it. You’re hiding something. I know it, and he knows it too. Take it from me Roxy, he is the last person you want to hide something from.”

Roxanne scowled and tried to twist out of the grip “Earl, don’t call me Roxy.”

He maintained his hold “I’m serious.”

“So am I!” She bellowed, pulling herself free. “I’m going home Earl, and next time you call me ‘Roxy’ I might finally take you up on your cooking.” She tapped the backpack threateningly, much to Earl’s confusion. “Ok? Bye. See you tomorrow.”

She left the bemused Earl in the middle of the Edge in a huff, pushing out the glass doors and into the chill of a Winnipeg morning. She made a mental note to text Lily her apologies and thank her for covering the shift on such short notice. Briskly and not at all dressed for the cold she made her way to the bus stop.

 The streets were more-or-less plowed and the sidewalks almost clear in the Exchange when Roxanne finally caught her bus home. She was grateful for how few people were out and about in the snow early in the morning, however the bus driver had given her attire a funny look. Alone in her seat she tentatively reached into Kurt’s backpack. Now my backpack she figured. She pulled out the shrink ray, examining it for a moment. It lacked any of the lights and sounds it had last night when she shrank Kurt the night before, and when her boss pulled the trigger, nothing had happened.

 She put it down on the seat beside her and dug through the backpack further. Unzipping a separate pocket, Roxanne pulled what looked like a power cord, but the mating face was unlike anything she’d seen before. She took the strangely circular outlet and tapped along the shrink ray. At the bottom it magnetically latched and made a happy little beeping sound. A single green light flashed on the devices side dimly. Roxanne smiled. The mischievous smirk danced across Roxanne’s tired face as the bus peeled away into Winnipeg to carry Roxanne home.

*Grrruuuuuu* went her stomach.

The End