Slinking Away and Trying Not to Die Over Cookies

Larry carefully snuck out the door, closing it quietly. His mom was tending to some shrubbery on the left side of the front section of the house, and he didn't quite feel like attracting her attention right now.

With a backpack strapped to his back and his ray gun inside it, he hurried down the walkway into fresh-aired suburbia.

He walked around until finally, he got to the local cornerstore, and grabbed a bag of chocolate chip cookies.

When he got to the counter, the cashier looked him over, popped a bubble of gum, and sucked it back into her mouth.

"One dollar and twenty five cents."

"Crap." After patting his pockets, he realized he was walking penniless. "Uh..."

Pop. "You don't have the money."

"Yes. I mean no. I mean," Larry waved his hands directionlessly, "you're right, I don't. But, uh... put it on my tab?"

"Funny," snarked the young woman, who looked punk-ish, with dark lipstick and a tattoo you could barely see past her uniform collar, "but no. You're gonna have to put it back, man."

Frowning, Larry's hand absently began unzipping his backpack and wrapping its fingers around the handle of the ray gun.

"How about THIS?"

Whipping out the Relationship Modulator, he quickly placed the young woman, (April, according to her nametag), under it sights and pulled the trigger.

"The FUCK?" She instantly moved to duck, but when she saw nothing emerge from the gun, went for the offensive. From below the counter, she pulled out something black and shiny, and much deadlier than what he was armed with. "D-don't you try anything! I know how to use this!"

CRAP SHE HAS A REAL GUN!? Mind racing, Larry aimed the ray gun at himself, hoping that that was five seconds.

Then, counting to two, he fired.

"Wait," April, now trying to avoid a suicide from taking place in the middle of her boss's store, "don't..."

...four... three... two...

...one..!

"... do it... okay, what the fuck, man, is this some kind of retarded joke?"

As April cursed him out, Larry flipped the gun forward, and sighed a breath of relief. It worked; both of their profiles were registered.

The cashier girl was still talking, saying something about calling 911 on him if he didn't just drop it and go.

Meanwhile, he opened the relationship menu. The list dropped down, in all its seemingly bottomless glory.