Earthquakes

06
Jul
2026

The Customer is Always Moist

Ryan stood at a kiosk exactly thirteen kilometers north-northeast of the Siren Sector’s atmospheric dome. Mr. Meankinder’s Mean Head was currently vibrating with such fury that his Kind Head was forced to wear earplugs.

“There is a leak in the fabric of reality, Random!” Mean Head bellowed. “And it is getting the merchandise soggy!”

Ryan looked at the floor. A puddle of sentient neon-purple slime was slowly consuming a display of interdimensional flip-flops at Pod Locker. “It is just a Liquid-Organic from the Aquatica Moons, sir. It probably just wants a refund.”

“I hate the damp,” Dover groaned, his escalator treads clanking as he compressed himself into a hunched, metallic heap. “Moisture leads to rust, and rust is the slow death of the spirit. We are all just one spill away from the scrap heap, Ryan.”

Nebula Norris leaned against a nearby kelp-pillar, tossing deep-fried nebula-rings from El Pluto Loco into the puddle. “Don’t bother, Ry. I tried to kick it out, but it claimed it had Sovereign Fluid Rights.”

The puddle suddenly surged upward, forming a translucent, three-story-tall Karen with tentacles for hair. “I wish to speak to the architect of this dimension!” she shrieked, splashing Ryan’s security uniform. “These shoes do not fit my lower-left pseudopod!”

Ryan pulled a tattered paper map from his pocket and flipped to the fine print. “Actually, ma’am, according to Mall Statute 402-B, all liquid entities must provide their own spill-proof containment vessel before initiating a return.”

The creature froze, its tentacles drooping. “I left my jar in the nebula.”

“Then you are loitering,” Ryan said, clicking his flashlight on. “And I have a very large mop.”

The entity shrieked, collapsed into a splash, and slid down the drainage grate.

“Genius!” Mr. Kind Head cheered.

“You are fired!” Mean Head screamed.

“I think I am a fish,” Mr. Er Head whispered.

(This story was created by an earthquake on July 6, 2026. Magnitude of: 3.22. 13 km NNE of Avalon, CA. URL: https://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/eventpage/ci41287863)

Posted by JOHNDEREVLANY, 0 comments
06
Jul
2026

The Case of the Zero-G Churros

Ryan sat on a hovering bench at the Graniterock Grotto, a retail platform located two clicks southeast of the Aromas Asteroid’s primary mining core. The air smelled of lavender and wet stone, a specialty of the sector’s atmospheric recyclers. He was three bites into a tuna melt when a gelatinous shopper began vibrating violently at him.

“I am on my lunch break,” Ryan said, pointing to his name tag. “Check the manual, Section 4, Paragraph B. Security is not required to engage with sentient fluids during designated digestion periods.”

Dover, the sentient escalator, groaned as he compressed his steps next to the bench. “I wish I had a digestion period. Instead, I just have gum in my gears and a soul-crushing sense of verticality. Why go up when you are destined to come down?”

“Because the churro stand is on the second level,” Nebula said, sliding next to Ryan. Her green skin shimmered under the flickering fluorescent lights as a third arm emerged from her shoulder to steal a piece of his sandwich. “Anyway, Mr. Meankinder is having a meltdown. All three of him are arguing about whether to fire the janitor or give him a Nobel Prize for cleaning up a black hole spill at the outlet mall.”

The mall intercom crackled with three distinct voices shouting over each other. “Attention!” Mr. Mean shrieked. “Ryan Random! The gravity in the food court is being discounted by eighty percent for a flash sale! Stop the customers before they float away without paying their convenience fees!”

Ryan watched his sandwich drift toward the vaulted ceiling. He sighed and grabbed a nearby mop to use as a tether.

“I am not being paid enough for physics,” Ryan muttered, watching a family of four-armed tourists drift toward the intake fans.

(This story was created by an earthquake on July 5, 2026. Magnitude of: 3.18. 2 km SE of Aromas, CA. URL: https://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/eventpage/nc75390041)

Posted by JOHNDEREVLANY
30
Jun
2026

The Great Stillness

An earthquake hits the mall and turns Pod Locker into a purple mist.

The Richter Rift Shopping Colony was vibrating at a magnitude that turned Ryan’s soda into a pressurized geyser. Every three seconds, the entire tectonic asteroid convulsed, sending shoppers tumbling toward the food court.

“I must see them, Ryan,” Dover moaned, his metal steps rattling like loose teeth. “The Limited-Edition Grav-Grips at Pod Locker. If I can just achieve total stillness for one millisecond, I can scan their laces into my memory bank.”

“Dover, the floor is literally splitting,” Ryan shouted, grabbing a handrail. “We need to evacuate before the mall folds into a tectonic sandwich!”

Ignoring the structural collapse, Dover deployed his emergency hydraulic stabilizers, rooting himself into the bedrock with obsessive intensity. He was becoming a localized point of absolute zero-vibration in a chaotic universe.

Mr. Mean’s head screamed for Ryan to fix the seismic dampeners while Mr. Kind offered him a pension.

Ryan frantically slapped Anti-Gravity Tape onto Dover’s railings. Suddenly, the shaking stopped. Everything went silent.

“I did it,” Dover whispered. “The laces are beautiful.”

Then, the built-up kinetic energy of the entire asteroid rebounded. Dover didn’t just vibrate; he vibrated at a frequency that turned the Pod Locker into a fine purple mist.

(This story was created by an earthquake on June 29, 2026. Magnitude of: 2.31. 4 km NW of Parkfield, CA. URL:https://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/eventpage/nc75386396)

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30
Jun
2026

The Inquisitor’s New Threads

Ryan gives fashion advice to aliens... and they actually believe him!

Ryan found a shimmering, lead-lined trench coat in the Sector 51 Restricted Clearance Rack.

When he put it on to block the Nevad-9 moon’s triple-sun glare, a legion of six-eyed Glattonians immediately knelt, chanting in rhythmic clicks. They mistook Ryan for the Grand Arbiter of Style, the only being authorized to approve the mall’s new Universal Uniform before the scheduled planetary purge.

“The fabric must breathe, or the galaxy will suffocate!” screamed Mr. Mean, appearing on a hover-pod. “Ryan, if you don’t sign the decree, they’ll vaporize the food court!”

Dover, currently serving as a temporary luggage rack nearby, groaned. “I’d help, but I’ve got a loose step and zero hope. You’re about to be unraveled, kid.”

A Glattonian general handed Ryan a Golden Stylus. “Judge us, oh Padded One, or face the disintegration beam.”

Ryan looked at the terrifyingly tight, neon-spandex uniforms. Using his best retail-manager voice, he declared, “It lacks pockets. A warrior without pockets is just a target with nowhere to put his keys.”

The crowd gasped at his wisdom. Just as the general prepared to crown him, the actual Grand Arbiter—a sentient cloud of silk—drifted in. Ryan threw the coat onto Dover and bolted. “I’m on break!” he yelled, leaving Dover to explain why an escalator was wearing the garments of a god.

(This story was created by an earthquake on on June 28, 2026. Magnitude of: 2.41. 29 km SSW of Alamo, Nevada. URL:https://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/eventpage/nn00920879)

Posted by JOHNDEREVLANY
27
Jun
2026

The Silence is Deafening

Ryan sighed as he adjusted his sagging security belt near the Dust-Glass Sector Hub. A portal spat out High-Priest Glorg, a being from the Dimension of Stillness who looked like a sentient marshmallow.

Glorg had never seen a mall. He hadn’t seen Screaming Steve’s Sonic Superstore, which was currently holding its 400-decibel Grand Re-Re-Opening.

Glorg floated into the store, convinced the blaring sirens and air horns were a religious ritual. When Ryan tried to intercept him, Glorg interpreted Ryan’s frantic waving as a sacred dance. The Priest began blessing the subwoofers by vibrating at a frequency that canceled out all corporate logic.

Suddenly, the electronics wing went eerily silent. Every TV, speaker, and digital display dissolved into white noise. Mr. Meankinder’s Kind head wept at the tranquility while his Mean head screamed silently.

“He thinks silence is a currency! This is a major step down for our profit margins,” Dover groaned, his metal stairs shuddering.

Glorg handed Ryan stardust as payment for the enlightenment. Ryan looked at the receipt. It was a coupon for fifty percent off a void.

“Great,” Ryan muttered. “Now we’re out of stock of reality.”

(This story was created by an earthquake on July 26, 2026, Magnitude of: 2.83. 19 km NNE of Indio, CA. URL: https://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/eventpage/ci41496032)

Posted by JOHNDEREVLANY
24
Jun
2026

The Great Glitch of the Ridge-Mark Terrarium

The Ridge-Mark Terrarium was buzzing with more than just radioactive bees.

Ryan stood outside Payless Tentacles, wearing a gold-trimmed blazer Mr. Kind had forced him to wear for the Employee of the Millennium program. He looked less like a mall security guard and more like a galactic diplomat.

Suddenly, a legion of six-legged Centaurians from the neighboring Dust-Cloud Sector skidded to a halt, kneeling so hard the floor tiles cracked. Their leader, a beast with a voice like a grinding blender, pointed a jagged spear at Ryan’s nametag. He didn’t see Ryan; he saw what he thought was the ancient glyph for The Eternal Refund King on his jacket.

“The Prophecy is fulfilled!” the leader roared. “You shall lead us in the Great Return of the Shattered Vases!”

“Wait, I just work here,” Ryan said.

Dover the escalator groaned as he compressed his accordion-like steps to walk beside him. “Don’t fight it, Ryan. If they find out you aren’t the King, they will use your ribcage as a display rack for seasonal scarves.”

Ryan looked at the ticking countdown on the mall’s Customer Satisfaction monitor. He had three minutes before the real Refund King—a five-hundred-ton sentient gelatinous cube—was scheduled to arrive via the express wormhole. He began blessing the Centaurians’ broken pottery with his flashlight, chanting mall policies in a deep, fake voice.

“By the power of the ninety-day warranty, I absolve these cracks!” Ryan shouted, waving his flashlight.

The Centaurians cheered, but the air turned cold and smelled like grape jelly. The wormhole hissed open, and a massive purple eye the size of a minivan peered through.

“Uh, Ryan,” Nebula said, leaning out of McDopplers with a tray of synth-fries. “The actual god of returns is here, and he looks like he’s about to file a very violent complaint about identity theft.”

Ryan looked at the giant cube, then at the warriors.

“I think I’m going on my break,” he whispered, as the floor began to liquefy.

(This story was created by an earthquake on July 23, 2026, Magnitude of: 3.38. 5 km SW of Ridgemark, CA https://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/eventpage/nc75382001)

Posted by JOHNDEREVLANY
19
Jun
2026

Three Heads are Worse than One

Ryan stood before his boss at the sprawling Mall of the Multiverse, with its 4,500 stores, and ample parking on three nearby moons.

He was still a little fuzzy on how he got here, billions of miles away from his home planet Earth. But he was now working as a security guard at the mall… pointing alien shoppers to the food court or the rest rooms or the escalators… and somehow trying to his survive his extremely-alien boss, Mr. Meankinder, who had three alien heads.

Each one of Mr. MeanKinder’s head had a different personality. There was the “Mean” head, the “Kind” head, and the “er” head… who always seemed kind of, er… confused.

Ryan hoped he’d be speaking with the “Kind” head this time. This could be the promotion interview of a lifetime. But…

“Random! Your efficiency is trash!” bellowed Mr. Mean, his face a terrifying shade of ultraviolet.

Mr. Kind countered, “But he has such a lovely, average face! Let’s make him Vice President!”

Mr. Er just blinked rapidly, confused by his own tie.

Suddenly, the walls of the office began vibrating. A customer had dropped a box of “Universal Solvent” in the hallway, and it was literally dissolving the reality of Floor Six. Dover, a sentient escalator on the ground floor, was currently in his compact mobile railing form. He let out a metallic sigh. “It’s over, Ryan. We’re going down, and the warranty expired in the Triassic.”

As panic erupted and guards reached for unstable disruptors that would likely delete the galaxy, Ryan noticed a nearby kiosk selling “Extra-Sticky Cosmic Tape.” He grabbed a roll, sprinted to the expanding void, and simply taped over the leak using his security badge to smooth the edges.

The void stopped. Reality stabilized. Ryan returned, hopeful. “So… about that lead officer position?”

Mr. Mean shrieked, “You used unauthorized adhesive! That’s a protocol violation!”

Mr. Kind sadly patted Ryan’s head.

Ryan sighed. So did Mr. Er.

Ryan did not get his promotion, but his on-again/off-again alien girlfriend Nebula was waiting for him at McDopplers in the food court with a tray of free Gravity-Fries. In this mall and in this strange alien world… that was a Big Win.

Story generated by a 3.6 earthquake, June 17, 2026, 13:25:05 (UTC) – 8 km WSW of Johannesburg, CA

Posted by JOHNDEREVLANY