Welcome to the Interdimensional Convenience Store

“Sir,” I said. “Sir, you can’t do that.” A large lyrebird, which was currently eating straight from a cereal box two aisles over, looked up. He trained his beady eyes on me and cocked his head to the side. He crushed a piece of cereal with his talons. I flipped to the next page of the fashion magazine I was reading.

“Sir, sir, sir!” the lyrebird parroted back. The mimicry of my voice was impressive.

Suddenly, the lyrebird shifted. Feathers melted into the ground and his beak sank into his face. His beady eyes enlarged and his wings contorted into arms. A moment later, I was looking at an almost mirror image of myself.

“I don’t have talons.” I wiggled my fingers for the lyrebird to see.

“I don’t have talons,” the lyrebird mocked.

“I also don’t have tail feathers.”

“I also don’t have tail feathers-” The bird’s voice broke off into a loud screech. Unable to hold his transformation, the bird dissolved back into his true form. The bird swooped out of the shop in a huff, dropping a pile of cereal dust into the magazine. I wiped the crumbs off of my magazine.

I had just finished arranging the cereal dust into neat piles with my pinkie when the shop’s bell rang. Another customer had arrived. “Welcome to the Interdimensional Convenience Store. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Actually,” the prospective customer said, “I could use some help.” The words were elastic and swam around the shop. Their voice was like a soft lullaby hailing me into darkness. I shook the thoughts from my head and the spell lifted. I felt sleepy.

“What can I help you with?” The phantom was tall and slender. The top of their head grazed the ceiling. There was no way they were human. The phantom’s outline flickered in and out of sight. It seemed to be trying to blend in with the shadows.

“You’re human,” the phantom said. “Why do you work here?”

I was taken aback. Unsure how to answer. “For the money, I suppose.” The job did pay well. Being a human working at a supernatural convenience store had its perks.

“Interesting.” The figure pulled out a little black notebook and jotted something down with a quill. There was no ink in sight.

“Was there anything you’re looking to buy?”

“Yes, actually,” the phantom said, bending over to peer at my face. “That magazine right there.” I blinked. Why did they want my magazine?

“There are more copies over in the corner.” I gestured to the small shelf next to the old fountain drink machine. It hummed pleasantly in the background. The phantom made no move to grab one from the shelf. I rang up my magazine. There was no use in arguing. “That’ll be $14.78. Cash or credit?”

“Cash, please,” the phantom sneered. Its teeth were sharp and yellowed with age. It placed a small pouch on the counter. I pulled it forward and opened the drawstrings.

“This is,” I said, “way more than $14.78.” Inside the bag were large stacks of bills. An endless amount.

“I know,” said the phantom. “Keep the change.” I started to argue, but the moment I looked up the phantom and my magazine were gone.

I left the bag under the counter for the rest of my shift until my manager arrived to take over.

“What’s this?” My manager hissed, holding the leather pouch.

“Oh,” I said. “Money. Someone came in, bought a magazine, and left me that. Said to keep the change.” My manager opened the bag and turned it upside-down. Stacks and stacks of cash spilled out. It had to be at least $20,000. Her eyes narrowed into slits.

“Said to keep the change?” she mused.

“Yeah.” I drummed my fingers on the countertop and picked at a wad of gum someone stuck to the underside of the counter.

“Be careful with this. It’s probably cursed.” She prodded the money with a painted fingernail. “I wouldn’t spend it on yourself.”

“Alright.” The gum was unmoving on the table. I slipped a knife out of my uniform apron pocket and hacked at the wad.

“Good.” She ran a forked tongue over her bottom lip and sent me home.

The bell on the shop door jingled and a mother and her toddler pushed into the store. It had been a few days since I had received the bag of money. So far, it sat untouched under the counter.

A moment later, the woman came up and dumped a pile of baby food, microwavable meals, and diapers onto the counter. Her toddler clung to her legs and whined for a chocolate bar. I scanned the items.

“Your total for today will be $56.89. Will that be cash or credit?” The mother flinched at the total. She slipped a battered credit card from her pants pocket and handed it over. The plastic had peeled so much I had to manually enter it into the register. It beeped angrily. The card declined.

“Sorry,” she said. “I should have some cash on me.” She placed two wrinkled ten dollar bills onto the countertop. “Just take off the dinner meals. And the diapers.” I was about to take off the meals when I remembered the bag of cash sitting an arm’s reach away. I pushed the money back into the woman’s hand.

“I’ll cover it.” My manager had said not to spend the money on myself. Surely this didn’t count. I extracted three twenties from the pouch. I scanned three candy bars as well.

“I can’t possibly accept this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said and deposited the bills into the cash drawer. The machine slowly spit out the receipt. There was a long pink stripe on the side of the paper. It needed to be refilled. “It’s not really my money.” The woman looked puzzled, but nodded. She packed her purchases into a plastic bag we kept near the registers.

“For you,” I said and handed over the candy bars. The toddler clapped his hands in delight.

“You are too kind. Sweetie, what do we say?” The toddler looked up at me for a second.

“You’re weird,” he said and stuffed a bite of chocolate into his mouth.

“What he means to say is thank you.”

“It’s alright.” She thanked me again, leaving the store with a full shopping bag and a toddler covered in melted chocolate. The sight made me happy.

At my next shift, a centaur came in and placed a bag of spicy corn chips with a bundle of hay onto the counter.

“Strange choice, I know.” The centaur stomped his front hooves nervously. “Tastes good, though.”

“It's not that strange. Total’s $8.65. Cash or credit?”

“Cash. Crap. I only have a five on me. I’ll just get the hay.”

“I can cover the difference.”

“Really, man? You don’t mind?” I shook my head and pulled a five out of the black pouch. “Sweet, I owe you one.” The centaur left with a wide smile, happily munching on his snacks.

It happened again. A man who left his wallet at home. A group of Fae with only a single golden coin between them. A lanky feline who tried to bribe me with stolen secrets in exchange for catnip. Each group left with all of their purchases after thanking me profusely. This pattern went on for weeks, but the bag’s contents never diminished.

I was standing behind the counter, rifling through another magazine when a hooded figure walked in, all jittery, and approached the counter.

“This is a robbery!” My face was met with the end of the gun barrel. I blinked, my brain not quite comprehending what was happening.

“Alright,” I said. The gun looked odd. Some of the black paint had been chipped away revealing a bright pink undertone. “Is that even real?”

“What?”

“The gun. Is it real? Some of the paint is chipping away.”

“Well,” the robber stuttered, “it’s a real gun.”

“If you say so.”

“Just start putting money in the bag!” They slammed a large duffel bag on the counter.

I opened the cash drawer. “We only have around $30. Most people use credit cards these days.”

“Just hand over the money!” The person jabbed the gun back in my face. I placed the money into the duffel bag. It was almost comical. The measly thirty dollars sitting in the large bag. This robber had clearly not thought through their plan.

“Did you need anything else?” I asked and closed the empty cash drawer.

“Now that you mention it, I’m going to steal some food, I guess. I’m hungry.”

“Alright, good ahead then. I’ll pay for it. You seem short on cash.”

The robber glared, but still shuffled away from the counter. They went over to the food aisle and began stuffing handfuls of nuts and goodies into their duffel bag before heading over to the small line of clothes and examining the toddler onesies. They brought the duffel bag, now appropriately full, back and I scanned the items.

“You have a kid?”

“No,” the robber grunted. “Baby sister. She lives with my mom. Both of them are pretty sick. I have to take care of them. We’re shapeshifters. None of the hospitals want to treat ‘em.”

I wasn’t quite sure what to say, so I went with; “Alright, that’s everything. Have a nice day.” I handed the shapeshifter the receipt. “You’re a really bad cashier. Really weird, too,” the shapeshifter told me and then left.

A week later a tall woman with a very familiar voice came into the store and handed me a wallet she said she found on one of the shelves. It had exactly $30 in it. No one ever came by to claim it.

It was raining lightly outside of the shop and I was once again trying to flip through a magazine. This one was on the history of the serpentine medical community. I looked up when someone entered the store. Before me stood the phantom who had given me the never ending bag of money almost a month ago. I sighed and closed the magazine.

“Have you spent the money?” the phantom asked.

“Some.”

“Really, now? Have you noticed anything unusual?” A peculiar question.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“Are you quite sure?” The phantom’s voice had turned light and elastic, again. Their words danced in the air.

“Yes.”

“And nothing happened.”

“Yeah. My manager told me it was cursed and not to spend it on myself.” The phantom looked shocked.

“Then what, pray tell, did you spend it on?”

“I’ve just been using it when customers come up short. It’s no big deal. Makes them happy.” Made me happy too, not that this phantom needed to know.

“You mean to tell me, you’ve only spent the money to help others?” I nodded.

The figure pulled out the same black notebook as before and jotted something down. “Very interesting.” They closed the book and slipped it back out of sight.

“The money is cursed,” the phantom explained. “ Anyone who spends it with greed in their heart will slowly turn into a swine. The transformation is complete when all of the money is spent.” The punishment matched the crime. How clever. Greedy humans turned into greedy pigs.

“That is a rather,” I thought for a moment, “dangerous curse.”

“It is.” The phantom sounded prideful. “Most turn within days. You’re an odd one.”

“People keep telling me that,” I said, but the phantom had already gone, money vanishing with them. I was about to open the magazine when the shop’s bell rang, again.

“Welcome to the Interdimensional Convenience Store. Let me know if you need anything.” I was never going to finish the magazine, was I?