Gas Station Freeze Tag

I have to say, what I do for a living is something you could probably never handle.

It takes a lot of personality, and ‘IDGAF’ vibes.

I am who you call when you need to know if people like what you have to offer…

I am the Critic.

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The car drives fast and pulls into the gas station, and I grab my equipment. 

Pen? Check.

Clipboard? Check.

Voice recorder? Check.

The driver parks in the small parking lot off to the side (that's pretty inconvenient for people who don't want to get gas) and I get out when the car engine fades.

My shiny black shoes click on the hot pavement. Summer sucks, so when people are thirsty, they naturally would come to the gas station.

First, I check the prices of the gas. 

$6.54? Oh no, that is way too much.

The customers must hate the owner. I walk into the gas station store.

“Hello sir, my name is Abdul” the man behind the counter says, being friendly. I start writing on my clipboard.

-The owner is very friendly, but may come off as a stalker or a pedo.

“I'm Jensen Potter. Nice to meet you Abdul.” I walk to the back of the store where the bathrooms are.

Inhaling, I step into the bathrooms to find tons of graffiti. 

-The graffiti in the bathroom is out of hand. Lots of racist and homophobic remarks.

Next, I walk into the actual stall and almost puke.

What the HELL is this?

There's like, brown sludge in the toilet and pee everywhere. I gag and hurry out of the bathroom.

-Bathroom needs cleaning, SEVERE cleaning, I suggest they burn down the bathroom.

Getting out of there as quick as I possibly can, I look around.

-Very advanced snack and drink selection. The candy aisle is like heaven.

I grab some sour candy and an Arizona Tea can, and go up to the counter. Abdul scans the items. 

“Eayyt-foertie-seaven” Abdul says.

“Could you repeat that? Cause I just couldn't understand-”

“EAYT-FOUTY-SEAVEN” he says louder.

Oh! $8:47!

I take out my credit card, but he laughs. “We don't take credit cards,” he says, his accent heavy.

I frown and take note.

-Does not take credit cards. Very inconvenient.

Pulling my wallet out, I hand him a $10 and he gives me back my change.

“Thank-”

“GIVE ME ALL THE MONEY!” a voice yells. I turn and a man in a mask is holding a gun.

Abdul surrenders all the money I just gave him and more. I calmly take a sip of my tea.

“Ciao,” I say about to leave, and the guy holding the gun shoots me.

With water.

I raise a brow. “I'm invincible. Critics are always invincible.” I say, opening the bag of Sour Rainbow Ropes.

“What kind of critic?” the man asks and I smile.

“A gas station critic. Nice to meet you.” I shake his hand. “Now my drivers waiting outside, and I have some information to publish-”

The man shoots me again. “ON YOUR KNEES!” he yells and I roll my eyes.

“You can't kill critics. It's a rule.”

“I DON'T LISTEN!”

I get my notes. 

-The gas station had a robber. That should be fixed right away.

“What are you writing?” the man asks. Abdul cries behind the counter, eating a pack of pistachios.

“You cannot do this to me,” he cries to the man and I scoff. 

“This is ridiculous,” I add. The robber shoots me for a third time, getting my suit wet.

-The robber has a squirt gun. This is stupid. My suit is ruined.

The door opens again and I sigh. 

Wait, it's my driver! Yes!

“EVERYONE DOWN OR I WILL THROW THIS AND BLOW THE PLACE UP!” my driver yells and I’m confused.

-Get a new driver. This one is not trustworthy.

The explosive is just a redbull can.

I start to walk out. “Yall are stupid, I’m out-”

My driver throws the redbull can and Abdul screams at the top of his lungs, tears streaming from his face.

The can hits the tiled floor and I wait for the explosion, but a bunch of foam comes out of it. You’d think that Abdul would stop screaming at this point, realizing that nothing is happening, but he screams even more.

“MAH FLOOR!” he dives into the foam and cries. “WHY? THIS IS A NICE FLOOR NOW IT IS DIRTY!” he yells.

The man with the squirt gun shoots Abdul and he falls to the floor with a thud.

“What the hell-”

Abdul gets back up. “THIS SHALL BE SETTLED WITH A GAME OF FREEZE TAG!” he yells.

“Nope, I’m out-” I start again.

The squirt gun man shoots me once again. “We’re doing the freeze tag.”

I glare and Abdul smiles.

“Good guys versus bad guys. We all have the power to tag. The last one standing is the winner, and if it's the good guys, you leave us alone. If it's the bad guys that win, you kill us.”

“No i'm not doing this, are you stupid?” I ask. 

“We will win. I am king of freeze tag in my country.” he whispers. “Go!”

We all start running and I grab a bag of sugar and throw it at my driver.

“AHHHH!” he screams, clawing his eyes and I grab my notes.

-Sugar is a good weapon. Use it in case of emergency.

Abdul comes running to me and tags me. I freeze.

“I'M ON YOUR TEAM!” I yell as he runs away. Now I can’t do anything.

He comes back and untags me. I start running again

Abdul tags my driver and my driver starts crying. “I wanted to be a bad guy for once” he cries.

I run and the squirt gun man holds his gun at my groin area. 

“I will shoot, and you will look like you peed yourself!” he yells and Abdul comes to a stop next to me.

I glare. “You wouldn't.”

The next things seem to happen in slow motion. He pulls the trigger and I jump up high, dodging the water.

Abdul jumps and dives for his leg, tagging him.

“WE WIN!” Abdul yells.

I laugh. “We’re not going to die today!” I exclaim, jumping up and down.

My driver and the squirt gun man leave the gas station, crying and I grin.

“Abdul,” I grab my notes and start writing. “The people will hear wonderful things about your gas station!” I say cheerfully, walking out of the store.

The moral of the story here, is when in doubt, trust the Critic.

We’re always right.