Challenge #01392-C297: Liminal Time and Space

Night people. Those who by choice, obligation or calling walk or work the Night Shift. -- Knitnan

Children of the night... what interesting lives they have. Those who work from dusk to dawn work in liminal time. Where the strange is not just expected, it is background radiation.

People turning up to their workspace in PJ's, half their PJ's, and minimum legal clothing are a fine example. And though everyone talks about that one time a dude came in wearing a live 'gator, the guy wearing a pink dishwashing glove still takes the Break-room Anecdote prize.

And around about one in the morning, under the slightly green and peripherally flickering neon lighting, it is very possible to believe that one might be capable of accessing alternate realities.

Karen had just enough time to hide her secret stool as the customers walked in. Heaven forfend that anyone found a minimum wage employee actually sitting down. That sort of thing went against the moral backbone of the nation.

Karen held the secret opinion that the moral backbone of the nation should be worrying more about minimum wage health and welfare, rather than minimum wage sitting. Everyone needed to rest their feet. Even the lowest of the low.

This lot wore coats over hoodies. She could deal with that. What was slightly within the uncanny valley was the weird way they walked. As if they had more knees than was necessary. Their arms moved as if they had more than the requisite number of elbows and... holy shit, they were giant insects.

They couldn't really be giant insects. They had to be cosplayers or something. Rational explanations were abundant. It's just that none of them completely fit. They even clicked and chirped at each other as they gathered... five family boxes of Sugar Puffz and an equal number of super-sized rainbow slushies.

They had the right kind of money as they ponied up to the counter and added a selection of overpriced candy to their haul.

"Are we on the correct road to One Horse?"

Ah. That explained everything.

"One Horse is twenty miles east. And remember to have your Brigadoon light on, or you won't see the exit."

They tipped her fifty bucks as they thanked her for her help.

Nice bugs.

Two hours later, what passed for normalcy resumed as a dude in his PJ's and a dollar shop cape turned up to declare that he was a vampire and he needed blood sausage immediately. Karen wordlessly pointed out the British Specials section of the refrigerated wall.

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