"Oh, fuck me!" Dean grumbled, quickly standing up from the lunch table, his chair flying backwards. He grabbed a stack of napkins and wiped at the spilled soda all over his work uniform.

"You're unbelievable." Jo muttered, shaking her head as she watched the scene unfold.

"Shut up." Dean growled, furrowing his eyebrows. He tried to soak up most of the liquid, but it still left an obvious brown stain on his white shirt.

"I'm not even sure how you manage to live by yourself!" Jo laughed, covering her mouth. Dean wasn't amused.

But, before he could tell Jo to shut her mouth again, the loud speaker screeched and an unpleasant voice rang through the break room.

"Clean up in isle twelve!"

Dean winced, knowing that that was his cue to get to work. "This sucks."

"It happens to the best of us." Jo, a co-worker and his only friend, commented from across the table.

"Or to the unluckiest of us." Dean muttered, throwing away the soiled napkins. "Is it noticeable?" Dean asked, showing his shirt to Jo.

Jo quickly shook her head, changed her mind, and nodded instead. "Yeah, you're screwed."

"Thanks." Dean muttered, giving Jo his best "screw you" face. If only looks could kill.

"Clean up in isle twevle!" The loud speaker shrieked again.

"Jesus! I think we got it already!" Dean yelled, picking up his chair from the floor. "But, seriously. How can people possibly make such a mess in a freaking grocery store? The auto shop was never this messy."

Jo shrugged, crossing her arms on the table. "Apparently, people are much more complicated than cars."

"You got that right." Dean agreed, walking towards the break room's door. "See ya in a bit, sunshine."

"Catch ya in hell, bitch." Jo responded, that playful smirk on her lips.

Dean winked before slipping out the door and into the busy environment of the local grocery store.

Dean groaned when he searched through the supply closet for a mop and bucket. He honestly hated this new job with every ounce of his being. But, he got laid off recently; so, he had to make ends meet somehow and this was the easiest way. The only plus side to this job was that he didn't have to interfere with very many people. People just generally got on his nerves, that's why he worked on repairing cars for so long. Minimal communication required. Unless he got to choose between the awkward social exchanges between costumers or cleaning up a war zone of spilled pickles in isle 12. He'd take his chances with the people. Honestly, how does this crap even happen?

Dean carefully swept up the broken pieces of glass and threw them in the trash can he was carrying. He mopped up the vinegar and pickles, glad that it wasn't something difficult to clean, like, tomato sauce.

"I'm so sorry, deary! I accidentally bumped the jar with me elbow! I'm only getting clumsier with age, I swear. Oh, my goodness gracious. I can pay fer it, how much was it?" This poor, old woman explained, pulling her wallet out of her purse. Dean finished up his job before responding, not really in the mood for conversation.

"It's okay. You don't have to pay for it. Accidents happen." Dean explained, giving a tight smile.

"Oh, are ye sure? Ye're such a nice young lad. Bless ye, Amen." The old woman gave a yellow toothed smile, turning away from me and slowly pushing her cart to the next isle.

Dean shook his head, muttering "okay, crazy lady," under his breath. He trudged back to the supply closest, wondering if socializing too much will kill you. Reasons why he didn't like working with people number one: they are all crazy.

As Dean walked back through the isles to the front of the store, he passed a shelf that caught his eye.

"The hell?" Dean mumbled, setting his trash can down to pick up a bag of frozen peas. "Who puts frozen peas in the cereal isle? C'mon. Don't people have eyes?"

He shook his head, bringing the bag of peas with him. Sometimes when it's a slow day, they will have him "house keep" too. Which is basically going through the store and seeing how rude people can be. Some people will leave an item that's practically across the entire store, in a different isle. Just, why? It's tedious.

Dean passed through a few more isles, picking up an armful of misplaced food items on the way. He was surprised, considering he only went through five isles and had an armful, when it's usually the entire store.

Hot dogs in the Mexican isle, an open can of pears let open on the shelf, baked beans in the frozen pizzas, strawberry ice cream melted all over the produce. And, that was just the worst of it.

It must be a full moon.

When Dean returned to the employee lounge, Jo wasn't there. She must've got called to work the checkout lines.

Dean walked over to the mini fridge in the corner and pulled out another soda he hid in the back. He popped open the top and took a long sip, the liquid tickling his throat as he swallowed. (He was careful to not spill it this time.) He looked around the empty room, only the hum of people outside the door making it feel full. Everything else felt bare in this grocery store. White walls, gray tile. His auto shop felt more like a place. It felt like a second home to him instead of just a building or a room.

But, he had to settle with this. White and plain everything. White work shirt (unless there was a soda stain on it), black pants, white ceilings and white walls.

Dean supposed he couldn't really complain, though. He could be unemployed, or working as a waiter or something stupid. He's also pretty lucky that Jo helped him get this job. Considering, he didn't have a good cover-up on why he got fired from his last job. Let's just say, Dean isn't the kind of guy you should mess with.

Suddenly, the room's door flew open, breaking Dean from his thoughts.

"People are honestly insane." Jo exclaimed, rolling her eyes and slamming the door closed with her foot.

"Tell me about it," Dean muttered, walking over to sit at the table with her. This was something they liked to do near the end of the work day. It was almost tradition.

"This one chick asked me when I was "expecting my baby." I mean, are you fucking joking? Do I look pregnant to you?" Jo complained, her eyebrows turned down in anger and frustration.

Dean laughed at the thought of a pregnant Jo. "No, you don't look pregnant. Was it some old lady with an accent that said it to you?"

"Stop laughing at me!" Jo whined, punching him in the shoulder. "And, yeah... some crazy, religious, old lady? You meet her?"

Dean nodded, not surprised. "Yup. She was the spilled pickle lady." Jo shook her head and laughed, liking the nickname he made for her. He liked spending time with his few close friends, the only people whose crazy he could handle.

Jo finished laughing, wiping under her eyes with her fingers. "Whew, man." She said, still smiling. "Oh! Did you see that other crazy guy today?"

Dean frowned, unsure of who Jo was referring too. "Who?"

She shrugged. "I thought you would've seen him. He's not hard to miss, kinda cute actually."

Dean pursed his lips, trying to recall someone who "wasn't hard to miss."
"The crazy cheese guy?" He asked, recalling the only person who he remembered recently.

"No," Jo replied, shaking her head. "He wears like, a trench coat. And, a suit and tie. But, he kinda gives a homeless vibe?"

Dean shrugged. "Nope, not ringing a bell."

"Well, anyways, I was walking by when I saw him open a can of fruit or something and smell it. Not eat it, just smell it. Like, that's full moon kinda crazy right there." She explained, raising her eyebrows to emphasize.

Dean narrowed his eyes, remembering that he picked up a can of opened pears left in an isle. "That is really strange. Did you say anything to him?"

"No, I was kinda in a rush. Thought you would handle it eventually." Jo explained, waving it off and smiling.

"Yeah." Dean said, distantly. He wondered if the guy who opened the can of pears was responsible for all the other weirdly misplaced food, too.

But, honestly, who gives a damn? He's just here for the money.