Traveling through a strange world, I inherited a dilapidated convenience store. The blood moon was in the sky, the headless horseman raised his head and asked me if I wanted to try it. The senior lady in red exchanged her secret for a cup of coffee.
While other survivors were trembling, I calmly took out the membership charter:
"Charge five hundred and get fifty free. Our store supports barter and refuses credit."
I use grilled sausages to make the evil gods bow down, and I use promotions to make the devils line up.
When the nameless ancient gods came and demanded my soul, I handed over a franchising contract:
"Regional agent, do you want to know?"
