Charlie slid the next box of Fruity Loopers onto the shelf, then made sure the boxes lined up perfectly. He moved his old hands on muscle memory, slow but accurate.

  The cartoons on the boxes mocked him, reminders of the many thousands - possibly millions - of items he’d stocked during his sixty years at the grocery store.

  For years he’d seriously considered medications and therapy, but he knew what he’d experienced was real. His story was unbelievable, and so he didn’t tell people, but he knew it was real.

  He still wore the big red gemstone his patron saint Balduron had given him.

  The red rectangular gem hung almost comically from his aged neck by a silver chain. He held the fat Emberstone in his right hand, still wishing after sixty years that it glowed bright again.

  "Attention customers, the store will be closing in fifteen minutes." Janice's voice crackled over the loudspeaker, interrupting his thoughts. It was the same recording she'd made a thousand times before. "Please bring your final purchases to the front registers."

  Letting out a grunt, he bent down and grabbed another box from the metal cart. His back ached in protest, the result of all those years spent hunched over like this, restocking shelves.

  What a damn waste of my life has been.

  When he first started at the grocery store, he’d had such grand dreams - moving to the big city, becoming a bigshot corporate executive, and having an office at the top of a skyscraper. His parents had agreed it was a good plan.

  Man, how entire lifetimes can be drastically changed in a single moment, for better or worse.

  When he was a nineteen year old, he didn’t understand these pivotal moments yet. Not truly. He just worked at the grocery store to pay for college.

  One night he was stocking the canned goods aisle when a weird shimmering light appeared half way down the row. Naturally, he went to investigate.

  Back then, the paper towel aisle backed up against the canned goods. Little kids liked to climb behind the toilet paper and make forts when their parents weren’t watching. Todd, the closing manager, often made him run the kids off even if he knew they weren’t harming anyone.

  But this time it wasn’t children at all. When he stepped towards the shelves where the light flashed from, his entire life changed in an instant. A disembodied hand reached out from between cans of tuna and grabbed him, yanking him into a fantasy realm he would never forget.

  Realizing he’d drifted into his thoughts again, old Charlie grumbled and opened the next case of cereal. His arthritic hands trembled, a dull ache radiating up his ancient, frail arms.

  I’m seventy-nine years old and still stocking these goddamn shelves…

  Down at the end of the aisle, that smart-aleck kid Bryce pushed another cart piled high with cereal boxes. "Hey Charlie, can you work this one too? Make sure it's done before we close up! Thanks!"

  Bryce didn't even wait for a response before sauntering off, no doubt planning to laze around in the break room hoping Charlie did all the work.

  Rolling his eyes, Charlie muttered to himself, "Thinks he's hot stuff, that one. Perfect management material! All he does is delegate, even when that’s not his job."

  With a weary sigh, he shuffled slowly over to the cart and started stocking from it anyway, just like he'd done countless times before. As he worked, his mind drifted back once again, unable to think of anything but his old life.

  Sixty years ago he was Charlie Bloodgusher, Barbarian of the Crimson Tree. In the realm of Drethoria he’d conquered many lands with a small army of other trusted barbarians.

  After one particularly awesome victory, he and his warband of lesser barbarians drank enough for a thousand warriors.

  At the warcamp, all the men boasted of their accomplishments, all trying to outdo one another with tales of their glory and their past. When Charlie spoke of Earth, hardly a soul believed him.

  In his drunken state, he sought to prove himself, and this was where he messed up.

  The greatest wizard among them that night, Harold Stupidbeard, or something like that, explained that Balduron’s Emberstone could take him home and return him.

  “A little tappy tap here,” Stupidbeard pointed at the red gem, “and a few magic words from my lips, and the portal will be opened! Easy as anything, really.”

  Charlie slurred his words, having lost count of his drinks. “How long is it open for?”

  “A few minutes,” Stupidbeard grinned, “long enough for you to grab whatever items you want to bring back and prove your story!”

  “Alright, men!” He proclaimed excitedly, already thinking of all the grocery store items from his old world. “You hear that? I’ll bring you gummy bears, dew from the mountain, and pringled chips!”

  “What?” Asked one of the other giant men, genuinely confused by these things he named.

  “Dunno!” Said another. "You're drunk, Charlie! Get down off that table!"

  Doing that made no sense. He'd already committed to proving his truth, and the whole warcamp needed to know. He stood big and mighty above them, and no one could deny it. His many years of leveling up had made him huge and muscular, and his blessing from Balduron only boosted that strength.

  “I never trust those portals!” Said Willhem, one of the best swordsmen he’d ever known. “Wizards give me the creeps with all that strange magic! No offense, Harold!”

  Harold laughed, giving the man a sly wink. "Me either, if I'm being honest. No idea what can happen sometimes!"

  Willhem slapped the wizard on the back and they both laughed again. Then everyone laughed.

  “Charlie! You don’t have to jump through a portal! Portals are never good!"

  “Yeah! We believe you, sir!” Said another man. "We don't need any gummed bears from this weird place you describe!”

  "Or that mountain piss dew you speak of!"

  But the beer had already done too much for him. He’d boasted loudly and made his mind up. Harold Stupidbeard hadn’t lied to him before, so why would he do that now? That thought didn’t even occur to him.

  They’ll lose their rainbow freakin’ minds when they try a skittle for the first time!

  "Harold!" Charlie yelled. "Open the portal!"

  The wizard did this thing just as he'd said he could. A portal opened up, and through the swirling red haze, he could see the canned goods aisle from which he'd first been pulled into this world.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Without a second thought, he jumped through, landing on the hard concrete floor of aisle seven. He was once again surrounded by all the modern food choices he'd nearly forgotten during his years in Drethoria. His leather hides and armor felt loose upon his frame, but he was drunk and on a mission.

  The store seemed to be closed, so there was no one to question a drunk teen in oversized medieval clothing, covered in blood and smelling of sweat and body odor. With only a few minutes to spend, he started grabbing everything he thought the warriors might enjoy.

  Once his arms were full he returned to the portal. It still swirled that red transparent haze, and through it on the other side he could see the bewildered faces of the men he'd conquered many lands with.

  He jumped, but smashed against the portal as if it was a solid wall. He let go of the many chips, sodas, candies, and cookies in his arms and they scattered to the floor as he too fell and hit the concrete.

  "What?" he yelled, climbing awkwardly to his big leather boots.

  Looking in through the portal, chaos broke out as his men fought the wizards. Fire and lightning erupted through the warcamp, his men swinging axes and swords.

  He tried climbing through the portal, but he couldn’t. Like a window he could only gaze upon a silent fantasy realm.

  "Harold!" he yelled, but it was a foolish thing to do. The wizard couldn't hear him and he couldn't hear all the fighting on the other side. "Willhem!"

  Panic shot through him, and even in a drunken state he realized he'd been tricked.

  "No!" he yelled louder, punching the clear solid portal over and over until his knuckles were bloody. "Damn you, you stupid bearded wizard! Harold!"

  Unsheathing his sword, he used his entire body weight and tried shoving that through the portal. The tip hit the swirling red void, shattering in half as he smashed against it.

  He punched at the portal some more, and then tried grabbing, then kicking. Nothing worked.

  The portal started fading, and nothing he could do allowed him to break through. Within seconds, it was nearly gone, and the last thing he saw was Harold Stupidbeard's grinning face, waving goodbye to him.

  With a pop, the portal to Drethoria vanished.

  "You wizard son of a bitch! I swear to…"

  In his periphery, he noticed a manager turn to look down the aisle at him. "Charlie?"

  He turned in full to see a young manager with blond hair in a blue vest. Eighty feet separated them, but still the manager stepped back, obviously shocked.

  "Todd?" he said, remembering the young man. He looked exactly as he had years ago when Charlie had first entered Drethoria, except this couldn't be. "You still work here?"

  "Uh… yeah? Why are you dressed like that?"

  He looked down at his leather hides and armor, all hanging like sheets from a small nineteen year old body. The leather boots on his feet were six sizes too big, and only then did he realize he'd been clunking around in them like a drunken fool.

  I'm back in my old normal-sized body? Goddammit!

  In Drethoria he'd had years to build up his strength and muscularity. Gaining all those levels as Charlie Bloodgusher, Barbarian of the Crimson Tree. This had made him big and scary looking. And now, once again, he was just a part time worker stocking shelves in the normal world.

  "Well!?" Todd asked, "You gonna tell me where you been for the last hour? And why you're in that stupid Renaissance Faire outfit?”

  "You wouldn't understand!"

  He turned back, staring at the cans of tuna where the portal had just been. Reaching out, he felt nothing but cold reality where he'd made the biggest mistake of his life.

  Four, five, six years in Drethoria? He wasn't sure exactly how long it had been, but that was his life, and he was happy there. Now he was back in this boring stupid place, and Todd was acting like only minutes had passed.

  “Damnit, Harold!”

  Tears flowed down his young face.

  "Look, Charlie!" Todd ordered. "I don't know what's gotten into you lately, but these long bathroom breaks and weird shenanigans need to stop! Now clean up that mess so we can lock up and go home! And you better not be wearing that tomorrow! You have a blue vest! Wear it!"

  Damn... he still thought, exhaling as he shook his head. Harold, you freakin' wizard. If I ever find a way back, I'm going to kill you nice and slowly.

  "Charlie!" Todd yelled.

  He snapped his head back towards the manager at the end of the aisle. The young man shook his head and held his hands out, still waiting for Charlie to give any type of response.

  "Are you listening to me at all? Do you want a write up in your file?"

  "Ugh…” Charlie stuttered, trying to come to terms with the reality of his major error. “I hear you, Todd. I hear you."

  "Okay," the manager said, walking away. "Geez, Charlie! Just clean that crap up so we can go home!"

  He looked at the mess he'd created, still trying to piece together how easily he'd been tricked by a wizard with a stupid looking beard. Balduron's Emberstone still hung from his neck, but it had lost its glow, now looking dull like any other big gem.

  Sixty years later, he was still here in the same store, gray-haired and bent over double, at seventy-nine years of age.

  He’d lost track of how many days he’d stocked these aisles or the number of former workers that constantly told him to retire.

  He couldn’t retire. His fear of missing another portal to Drethoria meant he never achieved anything else in life. Every shift he worked meant another possible chance, but that chance never came.

  At the store last month, the only thing the company gave him was a cheap-ass generic card with signatures thanking him for his "60 years of dedicated service." Ten lousy bucks on a gift card to buy himself a terrible company cake with plastic figurines on top.

  As he straightened up, he eyed the store's exit, framed by glass doors. The last few customers hurried out into the dark parking lot. Once all the customers had left, he could stock in peace until midnight, when they locked up and went home.

  An automated scrubber drove up and down the aisles, guided by cameras and simple programming. It was nearly as tall as he was, and just as slow. The loud cleaning machine made two passes down each aisle every night.

  The store used to have three maintenance people on the payroll. Now there was just one sweeper and this machine that constantly malfunctioned, sometimes driving into displays.

  He paused his restocking as the self-guided machine drove by, and leaned against the shelf, memories flooding back from that time before. It was practically all he ever thought about.

  Now an old man, he looked at the box of cereal in his hand, realizing he'd been standing there for several minutes just thinking. Tears rolled down his wrinkled cheeks again, but what could he do?

  Man I'm old, and my arthritis is killing me… I just want to go back, dammit… If he still lives, I want to kill that son of a bitch wizard… I just want one more chance, dammit…

  A few minutes later the cleaning machine rumbled around the end of the aisle, coming back for the second pass. Its sensors blinked as it scanned the area for debris. Charlie shuffled out of its path, cursing under his breath.

  "Damn thing's supposed to make life easier, not harder."

  The robotic monstrosity inched forward, its treads jerking and hesitating as its computer brain calculated the next move. Charlie stepped back, eyeing it warily.

  "C'mon, you hunk of junk," he muttered. "Just go 'round me already."

  But the machine seemed determined to test his patience. It crept closer, sensors flashing, before veering off in another direction entirely. Charlie rolled his eyes.

  He turned back to stocking the cereal, trying to ignore the incessant hum of the cleaner as it meandered down the next aisle over.

  The rumbling grew louder. Charlie glanced over his shoulder to find the cleaning robot had turned at the end and decided to come back through for a third pass. It was barreling straight towards him at unprecedented speeds, treads spinning furiously.

  "Oh, hell no!" He scrambled out of its path, nearly upending the cart of cereal boxes as he shuffled as fast as he could. "Stupid bucket of bolts is gonna get me killed!"

  Charlie pressed himself against the shelves, hands raised defensively as the cleaner lurched closer... closer...

  With a jolt, the machine rammed into him, knocking him off balance. He crashed to the floor, boxes of cereal raining down as he tried to catch himself. A searing pain shot through his hip.

  "Not my goddamn hip!" Charlie yelled, gritting his teeth.

  The machine continued scrubbing loudly, inching towards his prone body. He tried to crawl away, but his movements were agonizingly slow. The cleaner advanced relentlessly, its front edge catching his legs and pinning them down. The suction noise grew louder, its vacuum trying to grab at his body as it refused to shut off.

  Panic rose in his throat as the machine rolled over him, heavy and unforgiving. White-hot agony lanced through his body with each excruciating inch. He lashed out, pummeling the cleaner's casing with his weak old man hands, but it was like hitting a brick wall.

  I used to cut armies in half and drink the blood of their dead! Now I'm being run over by a damn cleaning machine!

  A rush of adrenaline flooded his veins, the likes of which he hadn't felt in decades. Nausea swam in his gut as the realization set in - he was about to die, crushed beneath this monstrosity of dystopian malfunctioning technology.

  His breath came in ragged gasps. The world seemed to narrow at the searing pain and the deafening whir of the machine's treads.

  Nobody wants this kind of blowjob!

  Charlie squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking from the corners as he braced for the inevitable.

  I'm dying… and what a pitiful way to die…

  Then out of nowhere, a bright white light shone upon him. A small portal opened to his right, just in front of the Honey Nutter Oh's, and a disembodied hand reached through, yanking old man Charlie through.

  "Oh, thank the heavens!" Charlie said. "It's about freakin' time…"