Ironic Supernatural Fan Fiction

Saved By Musk

You tie your crusty apron on and get ready for your shift at your local strip club as a waitress. You wouldn't need a job, but your boyfriend always orders you to bake him pies, and well, ingredients aren't free. You hear the bell on the door jingle, indicating a new customer has arrived. He gazes at you with his pink anime contacts, asks for a piece of pie, and introduces himself as Dean. Avoiding eye contact at all costs, you scribble down his order and grab the pie from the kitchen. You would call him a weirdo but you've seen some of the other guys that come in and out of this place. He watches you as you talk to other customers and admires how the sun hits your face when you laugh when the customers ask why there is a part of an index finger in their burger

"Do you need the check, sir?" you question after returning back to the slew of customers by the cash register. You stare down at your feet, ensconced in a fresh pair of Crocs and try your best to admire from afar.

"Hey, you, me, what do you think?" Dean asks. He feels really insecure about his weight, but tries not to let anybody notice.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me!" He thumb wrestles with himself, training for his rematch with Lucifer.

You walk away and hope he takes the hint. You slowly slide him the check, making sure to continue to avoid eye contact. You see out of the corner of your eye that he's raising his arms up. He puts one arm into his purse and caresses his cowboy hat before putting it on his head.

"You from 'round these parts?" Dean asks. He lowers an eyebrow.

You ignore him until he climbs over the table and tries to take a lock of your hair, for some reason. He secures his AirPods in his ears so he can pretend it to hear you if you reject him.

"Hey, get off me man!" you shout.

He feels sad and thinks the reason you wouldn't let him caress you is because of his beer belly. He slaps you.

"I get it," he says, while fat, juicy tears roll down his face, "you don't like the chubby guy."

Your hear a loud bang and a man carrying a smoking gun walks into the the strip club. He carries the head of a deer and there is blinding white light behind him. C-could it be? You hardly even notice Dean who had been trying to slip his hands underneath your socks to get a glimpse at your toes just a few seconds ago had now had a bullet in the side of his head.

"Nobody touches my girl," he says coolly.  The ladies start to crowd around him and the guys start to cheer, but he brushes them away. Even the strippers start to applaud, but it doesn't matter. You know where your Elongated Muskmelons' loyalty lies.

Yet again, Elongated Muskrat saved the day.