Diant Ghost, scare your thirst.

The bright blue can with the cartoon ghost painted on the side was the first thing Jamie saw when he walked in for his evening shift.

He stopped in front of the gas station counter and stared at it.

Gimicky energy drinks were far from an anomaly around where he worked.

He noticed that Eric, his co-worker, was ripping open a stack of boxes.

There was a new display rack in the shape of a white ghost, which meant they would be spending

all of their downtime putting new drinks on the display, and then shoving the rest in the

coolers and in the storage room.

I should have called in sick, Jamie grumbled.

The best part is that we have to move around all the other displays to make it work, too.

Eric waved his box cutter in the air.

Do me a favor, will you?

Take this and slit my throat open with it.

No way, Jamie snorted. I wouldn't take any of your shifts. You'd have to come in dead.

They would try to make me, Eric muttered. I wasn't even supposed to come in tonight, but Carl begged me.

I bet he did. On his hands and knees, Jamie rolled his head around his shoulders.

There was a bubble of tension in his neck that he could not pop out.

Well, let me clock in. How has it been today? Not busy.

Eric lifted one of the cans. He pressed his finger against a little green bubble that was right beside the cartoon ghost's head.

Look at this! It says, made with natural ghosts. This has to be a joke.

Sounds like you'll become a ghost if you pound one of those things.

Jamie set his bag down behind the counter and took off his jacket.

...