It happened as Brentworth passed through the store's automatic doors. A random incongruity of this magnitude hadn't been seen for aeons. That's why I was there.

"Greetings, customer."

"Excuse me?" said Brentworth.

"Why, no excuses needed, valued customer."

The boy had a bad case of acne and wore a dirty-red uniform with a name tag that read: LOKI. Inside of Brentworth's bodymind, I recoiled. This was far worse than I'd thought.

"Where's your popcorn?" Brentworth asked.

"Ahh, Zea mays averta, first discovered by aboriginal Americans many moons ago."

I walked Brentworth away, shaking his head.

Passing through the beer section, Brentworth grabbed a bottle of pale ale. A Latino with long sideburns and a bushy mustache, wearing a Tecate T-shirt and dusty jeans, ran down the aisle singing:

"Aiyyy-yaii-yaii-yaii,
I am the Frito Bandito.
I love Fritos corn chips,
I love them I do"

The Bandito disappeared around the corner, warbling something I couldn't quite make out.

"Is that a bottle in your hand, or are you just glad to see me?"

Brentworth turned. She was blond, petite, and gorgeous, wearing skimpy shorts and a halter top. She was so stunning Brentworth almost immediately jumped her. I could barely hold him back. Reality was unraveling. I might have to call in a tactical strike team here, I realized.

"I like a clear man," she said. "Certainly attractiveness counts, but give me a man who's there 100%, present, and strong. I'll take Harrison Ford over Brad Pitt any time."

Before Brentworth could even gasp, she turned and left. Must be a full moon tonight, I made feel Brentworth think.

I had him grab a box of popcorn and head for the checkout.

He was so absorbed in keeping an eye out for the blond, he didn't notice the circus clown until he was right next to him. Holding a cereal box, the red-nosed clown danced down the aisle, singing operatically: "No more Rice Krispies. I've run out of Rice Krispies!!" I felt tingles of sadness coursing through Brentworth's body.

I led him to the checkout counter. The cashier was an Asian woman with a radiant smile. She wore the same dirty-red uniform as Loki. Her name tag read: KALI.

I had Brentworth put his purchases on the counter. Before I could stop him, he asked, "Is something strange going on?"

"You are referring to the incongruities? Fleeting but intense instances of strangeness in an otherwise numbed-out world? Discreet hiccups of oddness in a universe overbalanced with conformity? Yes, it is mightily strange."

Okaaaaay, I thought. Definitely tactical strike time here. Brentworth wanted to pop the beer open and chug it then and there, and I almost let him. "How much for these?" I had him say.

"Six dollars, sixty-six cents."

Brentworth handed over exact change and chose a plastic (not paper) bag. I walked him to the automatic doors.

The incongruity, of course, righted itself as soon as he left the store. Instantly, he was back to normal. I hovered over him, watching, waiting to call in the strike.

He started towards his parked car but then stopped. Jeez, what was it now?

He went back into the store, as did I.

I felt him wanting something his ex used to put on their popcorn. Brewer's yeast? Something like that.

Shit. this was going to be one long-ass night.