The Impotent Satyr
"I turned my back for one minute to sort the Reggae section by artists named Marley and then everyone else," Lead Manager-of-wearing-mismatched-socks Abby Marsupial told The Impotent Satyr. "When I made a full circle and faced the register, Oceana, our cashier and mediocre 90s alt rock enthusiast, had already accepted that obnoxious pink CD for a whopping sixty cents of in-store credit. Turning around and selling that thing for ninety-eight cents leaves us with a profit of some number I could have learned from an Evergreen math class."
It wasn't a busy day at Downtown Olympia's Rainy Day Records, as COVID-19 limitations restricted the store to offering only pick-up and, of course, trade-ins of albums by bands that are just OK.
"Do you remember the nineties?" Oceana the Cashier asked a customer while sporting a lips-chapped grin beneath a booger-coated septum ring. "Do you remember Rocko's Modern Life? Do you remember Dunkaroos? Hey, do you want to buy this Better Than Ezra CD? Or maybe eight of them? Here, let me get you the one with the least amount of price tag gunk stuck to it."
The customer politely refused Oceana's offer and stressed that they already had two of that album for breakfast. The customer then went on to ask if the store carried the album by that one band with that one song from Fight Club.
Unsure on whether or not to be interested in the film, Oceana quickly Googled Fight Club and saw its 1999 release date—technically a 90s movie. "Yeah, sure," Oceana replied. "You're looking for Surfer Rosa. Hashtag 'free the nipple.'"
"Oceana has really been pushing my buttons lately—and I'm not talking about our two dollar pin buttons offered near the register," Abby Marsupial told reporters while holding up a cyan button featuring a blue bird with the likeness of Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders. "It's Birdie Sanders—I effing love it. Anyway, last week the kid took in that truly god-awful Queen of the Damned soundtrack. And, oh, we'll sell it, believe me. But just when I've said my goodbyes to that forsaken CD, it appears on the store shelf before I can make that 'Ooo-Wa-a-a-a' Down With the Sickness sound."
At press time, Oceana was being chastised for accepting the store's ninth copy of Savage Garden's 1997 self-titled debut album. "Alright, Oceana," the Lead Manager said in a defeated tone. "Slap a '98 cents' sticker on that shit and add it to the pile."