Wonderful. Love the boomer jokes and best of luck with that leprechaun man

Airend`2fn blinked over and over again as the SenseText reached them.

Blinking was, of course, was the coping strategy of lesser life forms.

But this news from Tellus -- why, it would make any carbon dweller blink.

They had told themselves repeatedly when they took the post --

It's just for a few centuries.

It's an appendage onto the ladder!

But every time they thought there was nothing that could shock them anymore -- the residents of Tellus found something new.

"It's only one Tellus species," their comrade leader would click, trying to soothe them.

"Consider the noble dolphin. The dominance of this biped species, however repulsive, is less than a parsec. Soon enough, a more worthy and sightly genus will arise."

Airend`2fn hoped they'd be delivering reports on light beam refraction in the Magellanic Cloud far before the octopi replaced homo erectus.

And in the present moment, writing up reports about the antics of Tellus -- from their intentional decimation of their biosphere to the astoundingly disproportion of resource allocation -- wore on Airend`2fn.

They liked to think it would wear on any self respecting Galactic Cadre.

Still, they had to admit -- since becoming a monitor for Tellus, they had much better stories at parties.

"We are not bargaining," the girl hissed as the fabric of space and time started to run together, as runny as the pinkpurplesoundflowerslights.

Her face had been melting for a while.

"I'm not like the sorcerers you've grown accustomed used to in your parochial little corner of hell, looking for a petty immortality bargain."

I wanted to object because this was actually a pretty high traffic commercial area.

But my organs, my veins and the blood inside them, were starting to turn inside out.

"Choose the end of this flesh, or its transformation, I care not." The purple gal loomed, not in words but in time.

"But choose. You can no longer hide, mutilating pathetic mortals to do your bidding. Choose."

Her words went backwards, forwards, written in the unfolding of every dimension.

The box stayed the same.

I blacked out after that.

Though most avoid the artifact, some don't.

Monstrosity isn't always a deal breaker.

"I'm dying," she informed me.

Who is me?

Oh. Sorry,

I'm Gary.

I'm the keeper of the artifact.

I should mention that, it comes up later.

I own a storage unit affiliate.

One day a man without a single memorable feature came to my office holding a small tin box.

"How much for a month to month locker?" he asked me.

Before I could point at the rates (which are written clearly on the door, by the way), an ominous pink light filled the room with the sound of flowers.

How can a light make the sound of flowers?

Listen, buddy, I don't know.

I already told you -- I own a storage unit affiliate.

I have no special powers, ancient sorcery, arcane secrets.

The man without any distinguishing characteristics pulsed under that eerie pink for a moment, his regular human shaped body seeming for a second to rip apart, revealing an eyeless tentacled horror.

Then he crumbled into dust.

The man, I mean.

Or the monster.

You know who I'm talking about.

As the man turned to dust, the box floated in the air for a moment above the front desk, the flower sounding light stronger than ever.

"It is you," the pink flower lights said. "You are the one who will protect us. It is written."

The box, it didn't say it in words, of course.

More like, with sounds and lights, you know?

I don't know, I was a business major.

I'm no good at describing things.

Anyway, that's what happened when I got the box.

I plucked it out of the air and put it in Box 1437, the highest rate slot for security.

Then got a dustpan and swept up what was left of that guy.

Since then -- well, a lot of people come by.

Sometimes they just want to look at it -- and those people?

No way.

I wouldn't let them see it, even if the pink lights didn't get really loud, make their ears bleed until they're screaming and running out the door.

That doesn't happen too much, luckily.

Usually, if people know about the box, and they still want to see it -- they mean business.

I unlock 1437, let it levitate out of the container.

I usually try to get out of the way, go run inventory or something -- it's none of my business.

And I know how an extra salesman can ruin the show.

Everybody who shows up here, they know the artifact.

They know what happens.

But they still come with a plan, a gamble, a trick or two up their sleeve.

They want the power, without any of the drawbacks.

They want the inhuman strength without the putrid horns, the all seeing eyes without the literal millions of eyes.

Nobody wants to work these days.

So, most of the times somebody wants me to open Box 1437, not much happens.

I open the box, go mess with Quickbooks for a few hours, then come back and sweep up the little pile of dust on the floor.

But every now and then -- someone who knows what real power is comes by.

And on those days, I end up having to clean up a lot more than dust -- glass, cement, guts.

I can tell on those days -- the box is satisfied.

I can feel it in the air, the pinkness of the sound.

It makes me feel kind of pink too. Satisfied.

Even though I'm not a magic box or anything.

Because on those days, the box met a vessel -- a real vessel.

The kind of person who will sacrifice to get what they want.

The kind of person that hustles!

You know?

Eh, I'm rambling.

So -- let me tell you about this girl.

Like I said -- coming in hot with impending death, that's nothing I haven't seen before.

I still don't know much about this business, but I know you're not seeking out the Scaly Monster Making Artifact because life is going your way.

She was pale, wearing a bandana over her head.

Bald -- maybe from chemo or just how hard life had been.

Who knows.

I don't talk much to the people who want me to open box 1437.

I unlocked the door, let the artifact levitate out to her.

I'm not sure what kept me in the room -- again, she wasn't that special.

Hell, if anything, I shoulda bailed out of there --

she struck me as the kind of chick that wouldn't mind a lot of tentacles.

But I stayed, messing around with receipts and whatnot.

The pink light sounded as loud as ever.

But this time -- a purple light, the loudest thing I've heard, started to harmonize.

I mean, it wasn't a very good harmony.

When I heard it, I started screaming and couldn't stop.

But the sounds, the colors, blended together.

The pink and the purple flowerslightssounds making the room pop like the walls were caving in.

"This is an offer, not a plea," the girl said out loud.

I could tell the box was pissed.

Dang! I didn’t know this, I thought if you froze canning jars they cracked no matter what