I laughed.
“C’mon, I don’t look THAT old,” I say to the woman behind the counter. Her stone-faced expression doesn’t change as I pull out my driver’s license and hand it to her.
She grabs it hastily. “I know, but it’s our policy to confirm that you’re human before you buy alcohol from us,” she replies nonchalantly, with her eyes fixed on my ID.
“The fuck?” I thought to myself, going through all the ways I could’ve misinterepreted her sentence while she scrutinized my license. “Does she mean age? No, because she would’ve said that. Is she some kind of racist? Are certain people not considered human at this store?” No matter which way I twisted it, it was either nothing at all or just too absurd to be true. I came to a logical standstill and just waited for her to finish ringing me up.
She was taking REALLY long with my ID. Every time she panned over one detail she would double back and stare at it at least once more. She had spent the longest time looking at my face, which included her looking up at me repeatedly (and awkwardly) to make sure I’m the person in the ID photo.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“No, just gotta make sure you have the correct features…” she said pensively as she flicked her eyes between me and my license.
Whatever this was, it definitely wasn’t funny, and I was getting impatient.
I shove my open hand underneath the plastic divider. “Look, ma’am, it’s alright. I’ll buy my alcohol from somewhere else.” I couldn’t hide the annoyance in my voice. “Please give me my ID.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to check your humanity?” She asked genuinely with a puzzled expression.
“What? No, I’m quite fine, thanks. Whatever is going on here, I want no part of it.” The woman placed the ID back into my palm. She watched me intently as I retracted my arm and left her to go put the beer back on the shelf. “Crazy motherfuckers,” I whispered to myself before leaving the store for good. The woman continued to stare at me blankly as I walked out. She was still staring at me from behind the register when I got into my car. I drove off without giving the interaction a second thought.
I picked up a six-pack from The Beer Store down the street and went home. I cracked open a cold one and sat down on my couch to enjoy a new episode of The Boys. By the time it had finished, I’d gone through all 6 beers and was feeling sleepy as hell. I got up to take a piss, then stumbled to my bed before passing out.
The next morning I woke up slightly thirsty and sluggish, but I went through my routine as normal. When I made it to the kitchen, I flipped on the local news to kill time while I waited for my kettle to boil. There was a huge banner sprawled across the bottom of the screen.
“BREAKING NEWS: LOCAL WOMAN FATALLY SHOT DURING SHIFT AT ROBBIN’S LIQUOR”
This was the same woman that tried to check my humanity. I was confused and horrified simultaneously as I kept watching at the edge of my seat.
“The following story contains upsetting content. Please watch with discretion.
28 year-old Elaine Butler was working her evening shift at Robbin’s Liquor this past Tuesday when an unknown assailant entered the premises. He can be seen here attempting to purchase beer, before growing vexed and leaving abruptly.”
They began rolling CCTV footage from the camera mounted above the entryway. I saw myself walking into the store, before the footage cut to me ringing up my six-pack at the counter. The whole ID situation was caught on tape. They chopped up that bit, probably to get rid of all the awkward pauses in the interaction. The footage cut to the part where the cashier, who I now know as Elaine, gives me back my ID and watches me leave.
But that’s where things took a turn.
“Immediately after leaving the store, the man walks back through the door and picks out the same set of beers. Upon bringing it to the counter, Butler asks for the man’s ID. He doesn’t respond, and remains nearly immobile for the next 30 seconds or so while Butler attempts to get his attention. Butler asks for the man’s ID one final time to which he reacts by brandishing a pistol from his coat, and shooting the young woman in the chest. The man then sprints out of the store. Elaine Butler was rushed to hospital immediately after, but succumbed to her injuries early this morning.”
My mind went blank as I watched the events unfold onscreen. All I could do was watch as I, or something that looked almost identical to me, pulled out a gun and shot an innocent woman. My heart was thumping and my forehead began to pool up beads of sweat.
“The assailant is currently on the run and his whereabouts are unknown. He is described as 5’`10” and heavy set with a light complexion. He was last seen wearing a black trench coat and black dress pants with a grey beret and black loafers. He is considered armed and dangerous and the public is urged to call 911 with any information.”
The physical description perfectly described me because it was me. I started to panic. I KNOW I didn’t kill anyone. I’ve never held a gun before in my life! I know for a FACT I went straight to the other liquor store to pick up my beers and then went straight home and passed out half-drunk.
The footage luckily didn’t show my face because of the way the camera was angled. But, I couldn’t just sit here and do nothing while some doppelganger had an itchy trigger finger. I got up and started pacing back and forth for what seemed like hours. The mix of adrenaline, stress, guilt, and grief threw me into hysteria. I started breathing really heavily and my walking became clumsily fast. I almost tripped on my living room table while pacing.
I don’t know what I was pacing for. Fidgeting often helps me think, but in a situation like this there was too much to comprehend at once. My mind had never been so blank before. I continued pacing for another eternity before I froze at the knock on the door.
I slowed my breathing and stood perfectly still, like a deer caught in headlights. I focused with all my ability on the door to the apartment. Nothing was happening. I was just about to take my first step forward when, before my foot could hit the ground, a piece of paper was slipped underneath the door.
I walked over slowly and quietly. The adrenaline had me on autopilot now. I almost caught cramps in my calves from all the pacing and stressing. I reached the door, bent over inch by inch and finally made contact with the paper. I swiped it off the floor swiftly but quietly. I opened it to see what was written.
“Sorry for the trouble. But I needed a likeness to use and you were the one nearest to me. Perhaps I can make it up to you?”
There were two faint shadows being cast through the underside of the door. I peeked under it and saw a pair of hooves on the other side.
I fainted and woke up at St. John’s Hospital. It’s where I currently am, laying on a bed and watching The Golden Girls while I wait for the nurse to come back with some food. I still can’t think straight, though, because someone sent flowers to me earlier with a note attached:
“I’ll take that as a yes. Don’t leave the hospital if it’s a no.”