The Groom Lake Singularity Sector was swarming with Krag-Beasts, four-armed conquerors who had just mistaken Ryan for the Great Galactic Purifier because he was carrying a chrome mop handle.
“The prophecy!” the Alpha Krag roared, bowing his four knees. “The hairless one arrives with the Staff of Oblivion to cleanse the retail floor!”
Ryan looked at the mop, then at the mob of three thousand bloodthirsty aliens.
Dover, currently a set of stationary stairs due to a panic attack, groaned. “Just play along. If they find out you are just the guy who mops up spilled Grav-Soda, they will turn us into mulch.”
“Citizens!” Ryan shouted, holding the mop high. “To achieve total purification, you must first fill out these ten-page customer feedback surveys!”
The Krag-Beasts froze. Surveys were the only thing in the multiverse they feared more than death. As the crowd stampeded toward the exits, Mr. Meankinder’s Kind-head floated over.
“Magnificent work, Purifier!” the head chirped. “Since you have cleared the floor, I have promoted you to Lead Janitor of the Black Hole Latrines. Your shift started five minutes ago.”
Ryan dropped the mop. “Does this come with hazard pay?”
“Only for the mop,” Meankinder’s Mean-head snarled.
(This story was created by an earthquake on June 30, 2026. Magnitude of: 2.41. 29 km SSW of Alamo, Nevada. URL: https://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/eventpage/nn00920879)
