There's a common misconception about why Chihuahuas have such terrible temperaments.
People say it's because they have a hole in their skull called a "fontanelle," which causes constant headaches and thus makes them irritable.
This hole exists because during childbirth, if the intact skull were to come out, the mother would likely die. So, evolution resulted in this hole to help facilitate a safer delivery.
Normally, this hole should close up as the Chihuahua grows, but in this breed, it remains open - hence the persistent headaches.
Though all that is nothing more than a misunderstanding and gossip created by talkative people.
The reason Chihuahuas have such terrible personalities is not because of the headaches, but simply because they are an inherently unpleasant breed.
That's why I'm not particularly fond of them.
How can I like creatures that start barking hysterically the moment you make eye contact?
And the one who just walked in wasn't even cute.
This one had a Chihuahua head but looked to be at least 190cm tall.
Plus, he was wearing a suit, and his eyes were severely bloodshot.
"Where's the toothbrush?!"
He doesn't seem to be asking for the kind of small dog toothbrush that owners use to brush their pets' teeth.
Recalling what I saw earlier, I replied:
"Try looking behind the fourth aisle."
"How am I supposed to know which aisle is the fourth one?"
Judging by his expression, explaining further would probably result in me losing a finger, so I decided to just lead him to where the toothbrushes were.
His suit reeked of alcohol.
If he's this drunk, he should just go home and sleep it off instead of looking for a toothbrush.
"Don't you have anything better?"
"This is all we have for toothbrushes."
"There must be some in the warehouse."
"The warehouse only has alcohol and ramen. Regular consumer goods like toothbrushes usually come in a day or two after they're sold out. They don't sell very well."
I also mentioned that we don't keep items like triangle kimbap, sandwiches, or pre-made lunches in the stockroom either - if I say we don't have anything else, that means we really don't.
There's no point in hoarding perishable goods with only a 3–4 day shelf life in the warehouse.
The Chihuahua-headed man grabbed a 10,000 won bill and turned around to leave.
"I'm leaving."
"Sir, you need to take your change."
"Does it matter to me, you motherfucker? Why bother me with such matters?"
Fine, just go already...
The Chihuahua really did leave, leaving me with 7,900 won in change after paying for the toothbrush, which cost 2,100 won.
It was nice to have some extra money, but thinking of it as payment for emotional labor didn't exactly make me feel good.
After pocketing the change, I looked out the front door and got curious, so I asked the manager.
"Manager, haven't you hung up the phone yet?"
[No, I've got my Bluetooth earpiece in, so just say whatever you want.]
"You said this convenience store moves around a lot for business. So where are we now?"
[At the downtown intersection. We're based here for most of the month.]
I guess that's why we've been getting delivery riders and freshly off-duty Chihuahua-heads.
Now that I have a moment, I absentmindedly looked outside.
The scenery did match a typical downtown area.
The neon signs, the bustling crowds in their various outfits, the other buildings - it wasn't too different from where I used to live.
Of course, it's not exactly the same.
For example, on the street that looked like a bicycle lane, there were Centaur walking around, or even in the sky, there were half-naked winged women flying around with their arms.
What were they called again? Harpies?
Anyway, even if this is another world, it didn't seem significantly different from where I used to live in terms of the era.
I should have realized that from the moment when someone asked for something like Plus or Seven....
"Manager, how do I get home from here?"
[I'll go set the coordinates for you before your shift ends. You'll need to help me a bit with that.]
"Me?"
[Yeah, since I don't know much about the world you came from.]
"What race are you, Manager?"
[Human, what else would I be?]
Ah, so there are humans in this world too.
[Not too many though. There was a big war a few decades ago that killed a lot of people.]
"War, you said?"
[Yeah. We eventually realized that if we kept fighting, we'd all just end up dead. So, we made peace, but it was a bit too late. What was your world like, Chan?]
"We had something similar - called World Wars."
[World Wars? That's a pretty cool name!]
Actually, it ended with a big fucking bomb being shoved up Japan's ass, but whatever.
In my world, we went through that chaos twice and ended up with nothing but sentient humans.
So, people went crazy, but it doesn't seem to flow like that here in this other world.
My world had to go through two of those global conflicts, and even after that the population was still just humans, whereas this place seems to have a more diverse array of sentient beings.
Still, the troublemakers here don't seem too different from the ones back home.
Whether it's an 18-head-tall bipedal Chihuahua or a goblin with an impressive nose, the inconsiderate ones will be inconsiderate.
"Of the four customers I just had, two were troublesome. Is that normal around here?"
[Not quite that bad, but similar enough, I suppose.]
"How on earth do you manage to deal with that?"
[I've been around for a while, so I just find it cute - haha.]
"Just how old are you, exactly?"
[A lady never reveals her age.]
Fair enough, I suppose. If she doesn't want to say, I shouldn't pry.
Anyway, since the manager seems adept at handling troublesome customers, I figure I should try to emulate that.
Looking at the time stamp on the register, it's only 10:40 PM.
Is the clock broken or something?
As I'm pondering this, the next customer arrives - a dwarf with braided sideburns and shaggy hair.
He comes right up to the counter and gruffly looks up at me.
"Give me a cigarette."
"...What kind of cigarette would you like? We have quite a few options."
"The thin ones."
"There are still several types of thin ones, though."
"The yellow ones."
Is this a game of 20 Questions or something?
"For the thin yellow ones, would Superslim be okay?"
"No."
"Then... Special Gold?"
"Hmm."
"So, you're not actually going to smoke them yourself then, huh?"
"Are these the ones that I ordered?"
Ugh...
Why wouldn't you know the name of the cigarettes you're trying to buy?
I got so frustrated that I just pulled out all the thin yellow cigarettes we had and showed them to him.
As the dwarf silently looked over the pile of about six packs, he ended up grabbing the Special Gold - which was correct.
"But the picture on this one is a bit... graphic. Don't you have anything else?"
As he handed me the cigarette pack, he asked about the disturbing image of the necrotic throat.
You know, I've been wondering about those kinds of graphic health warning pictures myself.
Smokers either don't seem to care at all, or they just ask for a different pack.
And this isn't even some place that only edgy people come to - there are kids coming in for coffee milk, frowning at these images.
This has to be one of the most useless, idiotic anti-smoking policies out there.
But whatever, I'll try to find an alternative for him.
"Let me see what else we have..."
But no matter how much I looked, all I could find were pictures of split lips, diseased hearts, or gaping throat holes.
Even checking the drawers didn't turn up anything better - the best I could offer was a picture of a funeral home.
"I'm afraid this is all we have... The least graphic one is maybe the funeral home photo."
"Nothing else?"
"No, it's just a bunch of graphic organ displays."
"Then I don't want it. I'll go somewhere else."
Finally, as the dwarf was about to leave, another customer - also a dwarf - came in. They seemed to know each other.
"What's up?"
"Came to buy cigarettes."
"What kind?"
"The blue ones."
The moment I heard the words "the blue ones," a sense of foreboding washed over me, and sure enough, it came true. The other dwarf who had just walked in approached the counter.
"Give me cigarettes."
"...What kind would you like?"
"The blue ones."
These dwarves really do seem to have a problem with elaborating, don't they? Just like the previous one, I had to pull out all the blue cigarettes to show him.
For the record, there are about four times as many blue cigarettes as there were thin yellow ones.
After finding his desired pack, this dwarf also complained about the graphic image on the cigarette box and requested an alternative.
Luckily, I was able to find one that was at least a bit less disturbing - a picture of a kid wrinkling their nose at the cigarette smell.
As the dwarf accepted the cigarettes, he asked, "Got any wax?"
"Wax? Yes, we have several types. What kind are you looking for?"
"For the beard."
"Manager, the customer is looking for beard wax."
[It's in the middle of the third aisle.]
"The middle of the third aisle, you said?"
"I'll show you there."
I felt like a department store guide leading this dwarf to the wax section.
As we stood in front of the bewildering array of options, I couldn't help but stare along with him.
The product descriptions were just bizarre - concentrated slime solutions, sap from the World Tree, and so on.
I don't even remember seeing these here earlier today.
While I was lost in thought, I suddenly heard a slurred voice calling out from the counter.
"Maaaanaaagerrrr..."
It was a drunk-sounding woman.
Going over, I found a woman in a suit with bright pink hair slumped over the counter, swaying unsteadily.
"Uh... Do you need something?"
She didn't respond, just tilting her head to look at me.
That's when I noticed her vertically slit pupils - just like the vampire from earlier.
But her pale skin didn't quite match up...
Suddenly, she lurched forward and vomited all over the counter.
At the same time, a pair of wings burst from near her shoulders and started fluttering.
Seeing the wings, I can only guess she's some kind of succubus or similar creature.
I have no idea why she's puking on the counter, though.