Adam Thompson stared at a "Help Wanted" sign plastered across a small, unremarkable shop window. Mortals… so obsessed with structure. They call this a "job." Boring. Yet potentially entertaining.
He pushed the door open. A bell jingled, and the barista behind the counter blinked at him. "Uh… can I help you?"
"Yes. I am here to apply for… whatever makes this place slightly less boring," Adam said.
"You… you want a job?"
Yes. And also, no. The word is irrelevant. I am simply… relieving boredom.
"I want… a title," he added thoughtfully. "Something grand. Chaotic. Slightly unnecessary."
The barista tilted her head. "Uh… cashier?"
Adam's eyes narrowed. "Cashier…? Boring. Unacceptable. But… I suppose for now."
He tied an apron around his coat, which immediately stretched reality to accommodate his towering frame. Mortals are easily impressed by simple modifications. Delightful.
"Sir… do you know how to use the register?"
"Registers… yes, I have observed their function in multiple dimensions. Essentially, they are… extremely boring calculators. Perfect."
The first customer approached: a small child holding a single cookie. "Hi… I… want a cookie?"
"Ah. Yes. One cookie. But… why stop there?" Adam waved his hand, and suddenly every cookie in the shop levitated and formed a mini-planetary orbit around the child.
"Wha—what is happening?!" the child yelled.
Exactly.
Adam picked one cookie from orbit and handed it over. "Here. But the adventure is in the journey, not the destination."
The child blinked. Adventure… cookies… excellent. Engagement level: acceptable.
A man entered with a laptop. "I'll have a coffee. Black. No sugar."
Adam's eyes gleamed. Black coffee… so mundane. Time to unbore. He waved his hand, and the coffee cup spun in place, changing colors rapidly. Steam formed tiny dragons that breathed… tiny harmless fire.
"This… this is illegal!" the man shouted.
Illegal… boring concept. Ignored.
Adam sipped another glowing cup. "No. Just… entertaining."
A pigeon flew in through the window. Adam flicked a finger. The pigeon immediately started organizing the coffee beans by size and color, muttering faintly about "order" in a tiny, annoyed voice.
Excellent. Boredom eradicated. Pigeon engaged.
From outside, a delivery man shouted, "Hey! I'm delivering… whatever! Someone open the door!"
Adam snapped his fingers. The delivery boxes sprouted tiny legs, marched in single file, and tipped themselves neatly onto the counter.
"What… the—?!" the delivery man yelled.
Exactly.
Adam glanced at the tip jar. Tips… tiny mortals offering gratitude. Amusing, but predictable. He tapped it. Coins danced in the air, forming shapes: a tiny dragon, a miniature cake, and one very angry snail.
The barista's jaw dropped. "Sir… what are you… doing?"
Adam leaned casually on the counter. "I am… making the mortal world… less boring. That is my job now. And your job… is to enjoy the chaos."
"Enjoy? Chaos? Are you insane?"
Insanity… delightful. Perfectly entertaining.
Adam's eyes scanned the shop. A blender, a trash can, and a small houseplant were conspiring. Ah… sentient objects. Potential amusement. He whispered to them: "Yes… create minor chaos. Nothing lethal. But highly inconvenient."
The blender spun wildly, the trash can tripped over a broom, and the houseplant flung leaves at a customer's head.
"This… this is absurd!" the customer shouted.
Exactly.
Adam picked up a bag of sugar. He sprinkled a few grains in the air. They formed tiny tornadoes, dancing around the shop. "Boring mortals require visual stimulation," he explained.
"Visual… what?!"
Pathetic mortals. Delightfully predictable.
A child tugged on his apron. "Sir… can you make my toy robot do a dance?"
Adam crouched, examining it. "Of course. But it must earn its rhythm." He flicked his fingers. The toy robot immediately began breakdancing on the counter, spinning so fast it created a small vortex of crumbs and coffee steam.
"Whoa! Amazing!" the child yelled.
Engagement level… excellent.
The business man from earlier clutched his coffee cup. "I'm leaving. This is… madness."
Adam smiled. "Ah… the fleeing mortal. Essential for contrast. Very entertaining."
A dog wandered in. Adam's eyes lit up. "Ah… companion animal! Chaos amplifier!" He waved his hand, and the dog began juggling the smaller animals in the shop—stuffed toys, of course, not living things.
"Stop it! My life!" yelled the barista, flailing helplessly.
Exactly.
Adam sipped another glowing coffee. The mortal world… full of chaos potential. Humans… fragile, absurd, and highly entertaining. And I… am still very, very bored.
He glanced out the window. A delivery truck, a man riding a unicycle, and a group of pigeons conspired in the street. Ah… the next stage of amusement. Soon, the mortal world shall be… unboring.
Adam leaned back on the counter. "Yes… yes. This is perfect. Every job, every customer, every object… just an opportunity to unbore myself. And the mortal world… will never see anything like me again."