Regork vs. the Self-Checkout Machine (A Battle of Wits and Ultimate Betrayal)
A Follow-Up to the Legendary Vending Machine War
1. A Grand Proclamation (Immediately Undermined by Reality)
Chaos Crew, heed me! Once again, fate decrees that I, Dark Lord Regork—conqueror of vending machines, bane of incompetent contraptions—descend into yet another humiliating realm of mortal inconvenience: the local grocery store.
Picture it: harsh fluorescent lights humming overhead, perky pop music assaulting my eardrums, rows of produce so offensively fresh it practically sparkles. And at the heart of this realm of banality? My new nemesis: a self-checkout machine.
Yes, I see your raised eyebrows. “Surely the all-powerful Dark Lord doesn’t fear a mere kiosk!” HAH. My dreaded foe is no mere kiosk—it is a cunning descendant of the vending machine that once defied me. I have come prepared, bristling with malevolent intent and a grocery list (why must a villain buy milk?), confident that no mortal convenience can best me again.
Self-Checkout (in an innocently cheerful tone): “Please scan your first item!”
I had not expected it to speak so… patronizingly. The challenge is made clear. The war for dignity has begun.
2. Why I, an Overlord, Am Here at All
Let it be known: I do not shop. The Chaos Crew was supposed to gather essential potions and doomsday snacks. But apparently, we have zero (ZERO!) items left in the lair’s pantry thanks to a series of “accidents” involving Kevin (and confetti, and possibly cappuccino). Thus, I was forced from my magnificent domain into the harsh, squeaky reality of grocery carts.
The plan was simple:
-
Stalk in ominously.
-
Secure items.
-
Dominate the self-checkout in seconds.
-
Return victorious, perhaps striking fear into other lanes if I so desired.
Alas. Step three has gone horribly wrong. Again.
3. The Chaos Crew’s “Help”
Kevin’s Over-Eager Optimism
No sooner have I declared “Kneel, mechanical beast, or face my wrath!” than Kevin leaps forward, brandishing discount coupons he found near the produce aisle.
Kevin (beaming): “Look, boss! They’re buy-one-get-one! We’ll save big!”
He proceeds to press random on-screen prompts, scanning barcodes upside-down. The machine, a soulless sentinel, emits shrill error beeps, culminating in the dreaded “Assistance Needed” lockout.
I glare at Kevin. He shrugs, still holding the coupons. “We got this!” he chirps. We do not got this.
Trevor’s Literal Overreach
Overhearing my exasperated cry of “We must force this contraption into submission!”, Trevor interprets it in the only way Trevor can: with raw, literal fortification.
Trevor: “Right, let me see if I can install a mini-ram here or maybe reinforce the scanning arm—”
He whips out a small toolkit. Alarmed shoppers edge away as if he’s brandishing a medieval catapult (which, in fairness, he often does). The machine’s screen flickers an even angrier red. A store-wide “helpful associate” alert sounds. Already, the line behind us grows restless.
Will’s Over-Fortification Mania
In an effort to “protect” our lane, Will commandeers empty baskets to create a makeshift barrier.
Will: “Security perimeter established, boss!”
In seconds, the self-checkout is barricaded from the rest of the store, effectively imprisoning us with the machine. Furious onlookers try to push the basket-wall aside. Will stands proud: “They shall not breach our stronghold!”
I facepalm so hard that even the store manager flinches.
Drew’s Accidental Curiosity
While Kevin, Trevor, and Will sow chaos, Drew simply wanders away. Moments later, he returns holding a luminescent, otherworldly fruit that definitely was not for sale.
Drew (scanning the mystery fruit): “Neat, huh? Where do I ring this up?”
The device blurts out: “Unrecognized item.” My blood pressure soars. The store manager, now thoroughly alarmed, tries to intervene again.
4. The Self-Checkout’s Betrayal
In a final attempt to salvage my dignity, I pull out my so-called “Overlord’s ID” (a custom relic card, obviously). Surely this advanced piece of technology can accept a formidable Dark Lord’s credentials. The machine beeps once—disapprovingly—and scolds me with:
Self-Checkout: “Invalid ID. Please see store associate.”
INVALID?! I AM THE DARK LORD REGORK, MASTER OF DOOM! I do NOT require a store associate’s permission to buy snack rations! My indignation is cosmic. The machine’s refusal is absolute. Our epic standoff escalates into beeping errors, glitchy screens, and an overly loud store alarm that’s bizarrely reminiscent of the vending machine fiasco I once conquered.
5. Escalation: The Battle of Wits
I try everything:
-
A manual override (the screen locks up).
-
An ominous threat, complete with a half-finished doomsday gadget from my cloak (the scanner emits a warbled beep, as if unimpressed).
-
Trevor readies a tiny battering ram. Kevin, in a panic, scans the same coupon repeatedly—charging me thrice.
-
Will piles more baskets into his “defensive perimeter.” Drew wonders if glowing fruit is on sale.
Meanwhile, exasperated customers line up behind the barricade, filming us on their phones. Children point, parents whisper, “Is that the guy from the incident with the vending machine?” My fury grows.
6. Felix’s Quiet Judgment (and Inexplicable Competence)
Through it all, Felix stands leaning against a nearby soda display, arms crossed, offering precisely zero help. I whirl on him:
Regork: “Well, do something! Stop lurking like a smug statue!”
Felix sighs. In three steps, he calmly approaches the kiosk, taps a hidden reset sequence known only to the machine’s whispering ghosts, and instantly the entire system reboots. The store alarm hushes. The self-checkout returns to normal, cheerily blinking:
“Welcome, valued customer!”
SUSPICIOUS. Too often does Felix solve these fiascos with a flick of his wrist. What does he know that I do not?
Despite this abrupt fix, the damage is done. My pride is shattered. The employee assisting us stares me down, as if I am the problem. I am forced to pay the standard mortal price. No overlord discount. No coupon redemption from Kevin’s stash. I see a triumphant glint in the machine’s glowing eye: it has won.
7. The Final Breakdown (He Forgot One Item)
Grimly clutching the single bag of groceries that cost me far too much dignity, I attempt my grand exit. But as we pass the automatic doors, I freeze:
I forgot the milk.
Regork (through clenched teeth): “It would appear I… left out an item.”
A chorus of groans from the Chaos Crew. The store manager, who was just about to relax, spots me turning around.
-
Will tries to rebuild his shopping basket barricade for one item.
-
Kevin begs me not to re-scan coupons.
-
Trevor suggests we “storm back in” with a fresh ram.
-
Drew is still holding that cursed glowing fruit.
-
Felix simply raises an eyebrow, as if to say, “Really?”
I grit my teeth, re-enter the dreaded self-checkout lane, and endure the machine’s smug beep once more. It scans the milk with perfect ease. Mockery complete, it politely chirps:
“Please take your receipt.”
The overhead speaker blares: “Cleanup in aisle five!”—again drowning out any chance of my villainous laugh. Curses.
8. Final Decree (A Villainous Call to Action)
Have you, too, been scorned by the malevolent arrogance of modern machinery? Have your attempts at advanced technology ended in humiliating beep-sirens and locked screens, all while unsuspecting mortals stand by and judge you?
Confess your mechanical misfortunes below, minions and overlords alike! Whether it’s a rebellious vending machine, a self-checkout fiasco, or a misguided attempt at scanning cursed fruit, I demand you share your tales of digital tyranny so I may know I am not alone in this suffering.
Fail to comply, and Kevin shall unleash his confetti-laced coupons upon your domain! You have been warned.
Darkly Yours,
Dark Lord Regork
(Vanquisher of Vending Machines, Foe of Self-Checkout Tyranny,
Undone by Barcodes, Forced to Re-Queue for Forgotten Milk,
and Still Thoroughly Suspicious of Felix)
Comments
Post a Comment