When Zombies Drink Papaya

My first day at Vitality Juice Bar should've been simple. Just smile, blend, and hand over overpriced health drinks to people who probably already ate kale for breakfast. But when the lunch rush hit, I felt like a zombie after finals week—brain dead, moving on autopilot, barely functioning.

The first customer was definitely bull material: six-foot-something, wearing a shirt that said "STRENGTH" in all caps. He slammed a crumpled coupon on the counter and demanded the "Bull Charge Special." Except we didn't have a Bull Charge Special. I'd never even heard of it.

"Uh, let me check," I said, trying to sound confident while mentally screaming.

My coworker Jordan appeared from the back, looking equally dead. She gave me a look that said: "We're in this together, survive however you can."

"Just give him the Bear Grylls," Jordan whispered. "He won't know the difference."

I nodded frantically and started throwing ingredients together: spinach, banana, protein powder, and a vitamin C packet because it felt professional. Then I reached for what I thought was mango, grabbed a handful of papaya chunks instead, and blended it all into something that looked suspiciously like swamp water.

The bull guy took one sip, eyes wide. "This... this is AMAZING. What's your secret?"

"Fresh papaya," I improvised, trying not to pass out from relief. "Imported. Very exclusive."

By 3 PM, Jordan and I were leaning against the counter, legs trembling, covered in green smoothie splatter. We'd survived a mob of teenagers demanding "brain food" before finals, one lady who asked if our juices cured specific diseases (hard pass on that liability), and somehow accidentally created a new menu item.

"You know," Jordan said, licking papaya seeds off her thumb, "we're basically performing miracles on zero sleep. That's some zombie magic right there."

I laughed so hard I almost dropped the blender. My first shift had been chaos, but somehow, I'd kind of nailed it. Maybe tomorrow I'd even learn the actual recipes.