Creepy pasta: Night Shift

I’m a regular guy who doesn’t believe in the ‘paranormal’. At least, that was until last night.

It all started when I got a call from my manager asking me to come in to do night shift at the 24 hour gas station that I work at, which as you probably know, is built on top of where that mansion burned down in the 1860’s killing all the inhabitants due to suspected arson, because the mansion was also built on top of an old Aboriginal burial ground that was also a meeting place for aliens.

I usually work day shifts, like any regular guy, but I needed the extra cash, so I said ‘sure, I’ll do it’.

I arrived at 10:00pm sharp to take over from the other employee, Old John, who had worked at the gas station for 50 years. John’s seen it all and is something of an expert on the history of our gas station, but he is also a weird guy who covers himself with religious iconography and continuously whispers about ‘the left’ when he thinks people aren’t watching him.

Old John looked up at me as I entered the shop and said ‘oh, so you’re on night shift then’.

‘Yep’ I replied in my gruff manly voice.

John took me aside and with wild eyes told me to be careful of ‘the left’ who only come out after midnight. John claimed that flittering shadows of vegans and labor voters can be seen on the outskirts of our petrol station, and that they may pay me a visit in their ‘hybrid’ cars, and that I needed to keep my wits about me.

I rolled my eyes at his warnings, as I am a sceptical guy who only believes in god, guns and tax minimisation. Suffice to say, I don’t go in for that kind of spooky crap so I ignored Old John’s nutty warnings. How little did I know…

The shift was normal enough for the first couple of hours. A white family came in for some snacks. We discussed god, and the benefits of heterosexual behaviour. Then it was a red blooded trucker. After that, things got a bit weird.

The next guy that came in was driving a regular car but asked for ethanol fuel. This was in spite of the fact that I clearly had regular unleaded. He told me he cared about the environment.

That’s when I felt a chill go up my spine…

It was around 12:30 that I saw a car pull in. There was something wrong about the car. It didn’t look like a normal car… It wasn’t Australian built. I don’t even think it was from ‘Europe’. A woman got out from the drivers side of this strange vehicle and began filling up. She only put nine bucks worth of fuel into the tank, and after she paid, she told me that it was half electric which meant she didn’t need that much petrol.

This kept up for another hour. Cars kept coming in, people talking about fuel economy. They looked weird. Some people had piercings, others had dreadlocks. They all appeared polite enough, but I could tell by the cold dead look in their eyes that they wanted to take our jobs, heterosexual marriage and tax dollars away from us.

Then at about 3 in the morning, this kid came in. Clean shaven, decent haircut and collared shirt. First normal guy I’d seen in awhile. He bought half a dozen energy drinks. We got to chatting, and I told him that night shift at a gas station was crazy. Then he told me he was a ‘uni student’(?) and that he had an ‘exam’(?) due the next morning, hence why he was up so late. He told me he was doing political economy, that he questioned the government, and that he was a vegan. That was when I knew that I had somehow been transported to the gas station in communist hell!

I picked up a beef supreme meat pie, and raised it above my head. ‘Stay back leftie vegan scum’ I yelled. The young man pretended that he was confused. But I didn’t buy it. I threw the pie at his head. I heard him wail with confusion. ‘What the hell man?!’ he cried in confusion, but I could see the left wing hate in his eyes. He called me crazy, grabbed his energy drinks and hurried out the door. You have to hand it to the left: they’re good at concealing themselves as normal people.

Anyhow, I thought that was it, that I had defeated the denizens of hell… but then I saw a van pull up full of activists. That’s when I looked at the clock, and realised that I had another four hours until sunrise. I was outnumbered, and wouldn’t outlast them until daybreak. Or so I thought. But like Sir Robert Menzies, I too was going to hold out for as long as I could. I locked the door, shut off the pumps, put another twenty meat pies down on cook, to thaw them out just in case anyone else got in and picked up the last remaining copies of the Daily Telegraph. I sticky taped the front cover of each and every Daily Telegraph to the shop windows to ward off the leftie activists outside.

Then one of them holding the pump hose, raised an eyebrow and came over, obviously probing my defences.

‘Hey mate, are the pumps working? We can’t get any fuel out of them’ he asked through the shop door.

‘Go back to hell leftie’ I yelled as I dived for cover behind a product shelf to hide from his withering deconstructionist gaze.

‘Uhh… are you okay?’ he asked in mock concern. I peered over the shelf, and saw him craning his neck looking at the Telegraph front covers I had sticky taped to the glass. The activist scratched his head. ‘What’s with all the newspapers stuck to the glass?’

I could hear him asking more questions about my general health, and whether he should call an ambulance. So I started chanting Advance Australia Fair to block out the sound of his voice.

He hovered around the front looking uncertain, but eventually got back in the activist bus, and they went away.

When I heard them drive off, I got out from behind the product shelf, and now being aware that the Telegraph had negligible effect on keeping them away, I picked up my phone, and called the only people I knew could save me. The people who keep Australia secure, and manage all government and corporate affairs.

Lizard men.

The lizard men arrived in a black hawk gunship around five minutes later, and in their sharp suits, repelled down the side of the petrol station. Once they gave me the all clear signal that they had secured the area, I opened up the shop once more, and knew that I would be safe until sunrise because the noble lizard men were watching over me. The lizard men asked me how I was in their lizardy-face voices with the gnashing teeth and forked tongues. I told them I was okay, and we joked about their plans of putting fluoride in the water and subliminal cigarette advertising to children. Those guys were a hoot!

Then the sun rose, and things went back to normal.

I’m writing this in a cold sweat as I remember the danger I so narrowly avoided being in.

If ever you find yourself in danger of the paranormal, contact the lizard men as they will save you.

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