Couch of +1 Strength

On the Shelf:	Behind the Counter:
₵$37 Ghost Tobacco (20)	₵$22 Fine MRE Spice (p/g)
₵$20 Bloody Mary	₵$120 Four Pack of Beer
₵$50 El Dorado Green (1/4)	₵$1 Sex Doll Goon Sack
₵$4 Black Meat (g)	₵$120 Bux. Semp. X Cannabis
₵$1 Slut Root (kg)	₵$51 Bottled Emotions (qt.)
₵$30 Marital Aid Potion	₵$30 Self-Cooking Olive Oil (375 ml)
₵$50 Quetzalcoatl Feathers (doz.)	₵$240 Brick of Cocaine
₵$5 Blue Roses (doz.)	₵$87 Memory Coffee
₵$26 Mythril (oz.)	₵$40 Christian Repellent
₵$24 BZTCN	₵$75 Anti-Flimflammatory

This Week's Special:

Amy has killed and skinned a thing. She took the hide to upholsterer of choice because they do not ask where, or what, her hides come from. Amy herself does not recall slaughtering anything indigo furred but that is cerebral horror for another day.

The upholsterer furnished a three seat couch. The cushions buttress the ass and the fabric is great for stimming. The Couch bestows a repeatable +1 Strength, for sixteen hours, to whomever rests upon it for eight hours.

'So your target market.' Yvette lists fingers. 'Are Dads with Stan Sports. The latecomer to the share house. Your boyfriend's alcoholic mate. I am none of those. Also the invisible homeless, which we won't think about today.'

'Beds are for fucking, not sleeping.' Amy, you answered the add. 'It's good furniture, its new, its gaudy as fuck. You love that.'

'It's gaudy as fuck, so nobody else will buy.' Yvette produces a supermarket canvas bag. 'But I have something. I was doing my rounds at the shopping centre. Some kids were doing Pokémon and one of them started evolving. Hitting it with a broom did not stop it.'

Uh: 'And what Pokémon was it?'

'I stopped following after the second generation. It was the one with the legs.'

'That technically narrows it down.'

'So the Pokémon evolves and it must've had a big meal beforehand because it vomited. Litres. Which was what I was trying to avoid. But, seeing as I had to clean it up.'

From the canvas bag, Yvette produces Tupperware container of yellow mush. The Geiger counter* hanging on Amy's wall suddenly crackles staccato.

Of course, panic colours Amy's enthusiasm: 'Gimme' gimme' gimme'.'

Yvette, worried, glances between Geiger counter and thing in her hands: 'Really?'

'No. The bag.' Amy's mind faster than her mouth. 'I want that bag.'

 

*Mine is in the shop.