Laika works at Flip’s [Laika][/tlvg/]

>I work at ze local petroleum and food depot.
>Is good job for high schooler to have, good hours, excuse to excercise trigger discipline, friendly work environment.
>I am just polishing the frame to great and late owner of Flip’s, Flip; his strong moustache, proper military uniform.
>I turn on tape machine for good ambience
>Coюз нepyшимый pecпyблик~
>Go to counter when two disgusting American whores enter
>”Hi, Laika! It’s us, your friends, Lacy and Gloom!” Whore waves, Moo-cow shyly hides as if I were to milk her.
>I wave because it is good to build trust with filthy capitalists.
>they laugh and giggle as they weave through aisles.
>”Sorry!” Moo-cow cries as she knocks over display of potato chips with udders.
>”Is fine.” I say as I trudge over to lift potatoes.
>Sad potatoes. Wasted to be gobbled by fat Americans, instead of guzzled for Proud Russian domestic abuse...
>”Sorry!” Whore this time, squeezed soda cup like it was father’s approval.
>”Fine!” I say walking back to pull out mop.
>When I emerge, Whore and Moo-Cow have left.
>Door ring. New customer.
>”I will be happy to help in just a moment.” Then I walk back behind the counter.
>”Can I get a pack of Camels?” Little girl with capitalist pig tails say.
>”Not my job to check.” I shrug. Another day at work.