Open RP! At the grocery store

[Bearglyph]

i have a bomb and unless someone calms me down i am turning the vegetable department into a charred tossed salad

tell me. why are the peppers labeled as a fruit? clearly this is a vegetable.

[Wooby]

A small cat-like creature comes up to you, they also have a bomb strapped to their chest

"Because they have seeds UwU! Vegetables aren't classified based on if they are savory or sweet, but if they have seeds in them OwO! Now I'm gonna blow this grocery store to kingdom come if no one can tell me why bananas are shaped like that."

[Bearglyph]

hi there small cat creature i am goku

bananas are shaped like that bc they got reaaallll silly with it. now i am going to kamehameha the dairy aisle unless someone can explain to me the difference between cream cheese and butter

[BarbScale]

now i am going to kamehameha the dairy aisle unless someone can explain to me the difference between cream cheese and butter

Hi Goku. Who I am is not important. What is important is that no one will tell you the difference between cream cheese and butter. The dairy aisle is in the back corner of the store, I'd recommend standing near the salad bar to get the best aim possible.

[xXShadoWolfXx1187]

I yawn as I make my way from the break room, leaving the soft musty yellow light and wading through the humid, barely air-conditioned atmosphere which fills these old backrooms. In my hand is the crinkled wrapped of a cliff bar, today's lunch. Massaging the contents of my fist as I walk past the meat section, the sudden climate shock sending soft ripples of reflex driven hair to stand at attention across my body.

I stretch, tending to my sore back- courtesy of a shift which has passed like a fine cheese grater through the most sensitive areas of a raccoon- as I make my way to my post. My lot in this store is humble, technically I am a stocker with a de facto position as a bagger. but I and my cohorts seldom make ourselves visible. Between the backbreaking labor and the gripping oversight of today's manager- a stocky man with hardly a heart and even less hair- we find better uses of our time sneaking away to our hideout on the second level of the wooden palette isle.

I pass by the open front and I catch a commotion, some guy with the gayest hair I have ever seen is being heckled by some sort of sick cat near the vegetable isle. and they're strapped with bombs, something about a vegetable stir fry i think. I laugh and revel in the fact that this is the manager's problem. Take that mr richards you wicked fucking testicle.