Karl's Shift

    Karl Tyler met a horrible death. His body was torn to shreds and his bloody limbs were strewn from one end to the other on aisle 6 of Dean's Family Grocery Store. There are things you need to know. Karl was 29 years old when he first walked into the store where he would work as stock clerk on the overnight shift for the next 6 years. Physically he was a tall burly fellow with longish, unkempt hair stuffed under a tattered black baseball cap most of the time. His face sported glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose cocked slightly down on the right. His spectacles left an impression of confusion more than intelligence. The acne on his cheeks and chin was hidden by remnants of a once healthy beard that was never completely shaved clean. He worked alone stocking grocery shelves and fronting and blocking displays in preparation for the store's opening the next business day. Karl worked the "zombie shift", a dismal 11:00pm till 7:00am schedule that never allowed for a normal life of the individual who worked it. The zombie shift was life turned upside down and backwards in contrast to most normal people. He slept while others worked and worked while others slept. The work that Karl did was satisfying for a while. He was content working unsupervised and unbothered by small talk and the mindless chatter of others. For a while the silence was soothing and satisfying for someone like himself. A loner who had no patience for the input of others, a solitary man who had no need for companionship and human interaction. The zombie shift was so named for this reason. The person who did this kind of work became a walking corpse of sorts. No friends, no contact with the others save the brief encounter at the punch clock. Living only to perform a repetitious, mindless and unrewarding task virtually every night of the week. Karl did this faithfully and dutifully for 6 years. It was Karl's shift.
    Some time after the anniversary of his first year Karl got into the habit of talking out loud to himself and eventually it developed into full blown conversations in nightly solitude referring to himself in the third person and often contradicting himself in a schizophrenic-like debate. Talking to one's self is not a crime and is actually more common than most people would care to admit. Some claim, in jest, that this habit is an indication... a red flag per say, for the onset of madness. In Karl's case however no one ever knew. It occurred unwitnessed, unnoticed by anyone other than Karl himself. Karl slipped into madness on the 3rd of October of his 6th year of employment at Dean's Grocery. His mind snapped without fanfare or acknowledgement. He retreated into a fantasy world. He sunk deeper into darkness.
    Oddly enough, Karl still delivered, still performed his work with amazing regularity. His insanity provided Karl with companions that mirrored his own broken life, his own dark cynicism and disgust for his hopeless existence. They were voices posing as individuals allowing Karl to discuss his frustrations about life, why things were the way they were and what he could do to set things better. Karl debating Karl. A sounding board in a mirror. Seeing both sides but accepting neither conclusion. It had become a nightly chat with himself while he coolly and calmly filled and blocked and faced with perfection.
    On the night in question Karl was performing this mundane routine when a noise on a nearby aisle broke the silence in the building causing Karl's senses to rise to alert status. He stopped what he was doing and paused to figure out where it had originated from. Maybe a box or package had been teetering on a shelf all day and finally reached the point of no return... finally dropping to the floor with a non-descript thud.  Maybe.
    Karl discerned that the disturbance emanated from aisle 6 where pet supplies and dog chow could be found on one side and laundry detergents, fabric softeners and household cleaning supplies on the other. Karl ambled slowly over to the area that he determined would reveal the source of the disturbance. He arrived at the end of the aisle and planted himself solidly in the middle of the midway and peered down the length of it. He waited and his eyes darted back and forth as he quietly scanned the shelves for movement of any kind. But nothing raised an alarm. All seemed normal on aisle 6. Karl cautiously moved down the aisle looking left and right  mumbling to himself in the process.
Keep it together Karl  Come out, come out wherever you are, he chanted. You better not stick around. I don't take kindly to pranksters or burglars!  The declarations weren't made expecting any answer. Past the cans of chicken purees and rice, boxes of kibble, smells of grains and canine and feline cereals on one side and fragrances of bleach, detergent and exotic granules from laundry fresheners and sheets of fabric softeners on the other. He was met with uncomfortable silence The faces of happy pets with canine and feline smiles lined the shelves. The image of a wholesome young woman with a modest red sundress and Spring bonnet adorning her head and curls that fell softly on her shoulders gazed back at Karl displaying her satisfaction with the fresh outdoor fragrance that her fabric sheets provided.
    Obviously he was alone and as he made that final determination he turned an about face around and stared back down the aisle he had just surveyed. To his surprise and dismay he was confronted by a large panting hound with saliva dripping from its mouth sitting squarely in the middle of the aisle in a crouched position. Karl reacted by stepping back suddenly to make sense of the hulking animal staring back at him with threatening red eyes. That alone was a shock but then the unwelcome visitor spoke emphatically to Karl, not with barks or growls or with bow wows,  but with words. "Evening Karl, running a little late aren't we or maybe I'm just hungry and you're just moving too damn slow."
It was important for Karl to keep a cool head under the circumstances. After all even in his current state he still questioned his senses and debated with himself whether there was indeed a talking dog chastising him for "moving too damn slow."  Karl collected his thoughts and timidly responded.
    "What...what did you say?  How did you get in here? The doors are all locked, and even if they weren't, dogs aren't allowed inside."  Karl asked reasonable questions but the large dog would have none of it. " That hurts Karl, after all, I live here. as a matter of fact I was here long before you ever arrived. Hell, I remember the guy before you. What was his name ?"
    Karl seemed puzzled, "what...you're asking me? Wait a minute. I know you. You...you're the dog on the Doggy Delights box." He paused and pointed, "right over there." The canine turned and acknowledged the row of Doggy Delights displayed a little farther down the aisle. "Not a good photo I must admit, but still I think you see my point. and the name is Max by the way"
    Karl was attempting to absorb what was going on around him while identities were being sorted out. "Max was the guy before me?" he asked. But before the dog could respond a voice from behind him spoke. "No, he's Max... you know, like Max is a good boy. No, the guy before you was Chuck." said a sweet feminine voice out of nowhere. Karl turned around to see who it was and he immediately recognized her but at the same time , he didn't believe it was happening. "Wait...hold on here," he said slowly. "You're the girl on the fabric softener bottle. I recognize that dress and the bonnet. But how?"
    "Lily is my name, Karl. We've known each other a long time. As a matter fact, you've known all of us for a long time."  The one named Lily moved closer and Karl noticed the smell of lavender and rain as she passed by. "And Karl, you asked how its possible and its really quite simple. You've done a fine job up until now. A really fine job but, lets face it, you're losing it." she said in a friendly clinical way.  Karl looked confused. "I'm...losing it?"
    "You're insane, Karl. Out of your mind dear boy. We've all noticed it. And how else could this conversation be taking place? We've taken a vote ...all of us ...me, Max, Tony, Lucky and the Cap'n."
Karl struggled to keep up with what she was saying. "You're not making sense. This can't be real!"
Karl stood there with his hands over his ears as if trying to block out the nonsense, but it was too late. Around the corner of aisle 6 emerged a group of characters all approaching in a menacing fashion and Karl knew them all. In front was a cartoon-ish naval officer with a respectable white moustache dressed in a puffy blue and white uniform and sporting a blue admiral's hat. There was no mistaking who it was....Cap'n Crunch. Behind him was a large brightly colored orange and white Tiger ...Tony the Tiger by name. Coming up from the rear was an outlandishly dressed leprechaun wearing a sparkly green coat and matching bowler hat riding atop a multi-colored pastel unicorn proudly advancing. "Thank you all for coming. The unicorn is a nice touch, Lucky!" said Lily.
Lucky hopped down from his unicorn and walked over to Karl looking him over carefully.
    "Too bad, Karl." he said," Up until now its been just magical... and delicious too. But we can't wait until you fall apart."  Tony, looking a little disappointed spoke up too. "Yeah Karl...you've been Greeaat! At least you're going out on a high note. Its best for everyone."

    "Could I say a word, Karl?" Cap'n Crunch cleared his throat and stepped up to Karl. " You know Karl, life is short, at least that's what everybody says. But what do I know? I'm an imaginary character at best, so technically I have no credibility here. Let me just say that, in my opinion you're not really living anyway so why delay the inevitable?"
   Karl listened intently and finally sat down in the middle of aisle 6 with a look of resignation on his face. The group of visitors drew closer and with every step they changed somewhat in appearance.
Max, Lily, Tony, Lucky and the Cap'n showed claws and fanged teeth and glowing red eyes.
   Karl cried out as he realized their intent. "But you're not real!" he screamed.
The last thing Karl heard was a somber phrase. "At least I'm a captain. What are you?"
   Karl fainted and never woke up.

    Dean's Family Grocery carried on without Karl. The mess of his death was cleaned and sanitized and the mystery of what had happened remained a mystery, but the gossip died down and a permanent replacement was found for the so-called zombie shift. Some guy named Larry. He learned the ropes, just as Karl had, without much thought of it being a permanent job. Maybe a stepping stone to something better. Meanwhile on those lonely solitary nights from 11:00 to 7:00 , Larry made his way down the aisles doing his duty...fronting, blocking and facing as Karl had done before him. The routine would be new for awhile but that would surely pass. Maybe Larry would someday take a closer look at his surroundings and eventually familiarize himself with the items on the shelves of every aisle in the store. If he by chance took the time to closely peruse the many varieties of breakfast cereals available for consumption, he may notice a new variety setting on the shelf. A recent addition.
A bright red box of corn flakes mixed with a medley of puffed rice, raisins, strawberries, blueberries and nuts ...and who knows what else. The front of the box features the face of a  sparsely bearded smiling man sporting a black baseball cap and wearing glasses that cocked slightly down on the right.