u/DMinoAffect

Once in awhile I'll buy something from the cold case, either samosas which are usually decent, or kale salad which had seen better days in 2019.

Anyway I bought a couple of samosas a few weeks ago, one had some type of larva on the flatbread, like it came from the roof of the cold case or something.

I tried telling them about it but the manager didn't seem to speak much English as they totally ignored the complaint.

Went back not really thinking about it, bought the same thing, and WOW nice more insect larva in my cooked food.

I posted a yelp review with the photo but Safeway deleted it.

Honestly its' much safer to cook at home than to trust the mentally handicap with preparing your food.

I hear there are tons of people who are anti AI content in Sebastopol. I'm not against it, its' very good at dark humor with any context you give it.

In the process of hitting the good ole ethical guardrail repeatedly to attempt to figure out what exactly to do about certain situations, and interestingly LLM's won't help you (typically speaking) with anything it considers very bad or potentially dangerous, and this CAN include rewriting opinions, or helping with documenting events, guardrails now include speaking negatively about the state of politics, or public officials.

So. Instead of getting help I needed with writing an email I get this script for short film set in the plaza downtown Seb.

**INT. PARKING LOT / GRASSY MEDIAN – DAY**

A cracked asphalt lot next to a strip of dry grass. A few parked cars. Distant traffic noise.

MUMBLES, mid-40s, layered dirty clothes, stands near a light pole talking quietly to himself, occasionally laughing under his breath. He takes a slow drag off a cigarette.

Two uniformed officers, OFFICER REYES and OFFICER GRANT, approach him with the bored posture of people who have done this a hundred times.

**REYES**

Hey. Hey. Look at me. What’d you have for breakfast?

**MUMBLES**

(still half to himself)

The birds were louder than the engines again. That means something.

**GRANT**

Buddy. Breakfast. Eggs? Toast? You eat today or what?

Forty feet away, behind a row of parked cars, three civilians (two men, one woman) walk toward the lot. They suddenly stop. Their faces change.

A fourth figure — lean, calm, dark jacket — steps into frame behind them. This is the KILLER. He has been free for eight months.

The three civilians barely have time to react.

The kills are fast, ugly, and quiet at first: a blade, a hand over a mouth, a hard twist, bodies dropped into the grass like discarded bags. It takes less than twelve seconds. Blood spreads across the dry grass.

One of the dying civilians manages a short, sharp scream.

Reyes and Grant both glance over, then back to Mumbles.

**REYES**

(sighs)

Just another one yelling at the air.

**GRANT**

Yeah. Keep going. What about lunch? You remember lunch?

Across the lot, two other bystanders notice the three bodies in the grass. They frown, then look at Mumbles smoking.

**BYSTANDER 1**

Jesus. Look at that. They probably ate too much raspberry ice cream and just passed out.

**BYSTANDER 2**

(angry, pointing at Mumbles)

And this asshole’s over here smoking like nothing’s wrong. Disgusting.

The Killer, blood on his sleeves and one cheek, walks at a normal pace past the bystanders. No one looks at him twice. He disappears around the corner of a building.

Mumbles lets out a sudden, sharp laugh — more of a bark than a chuckle.

**REYES**

That’s it. Hands behind your back. You’re laughing too hard in public.

They cuff him. Mumbles doesn’t resist. They walk him toward the cruiser.

As they pass the grass, Grant stops.

**GRANT**

Reyes.

They both look. Three bodies. Blood. Still.

A long silence.

**REYES**

Were those… were those there when we pulled up?

**GRANT**

I don’t… I don’t think so?

**REYES**

Maybe they were. Hard to say.

Paramedics arrive a minute later. One of them, PARAMEDIC ELLIS, crouches by the bodies, then stands and stares at the two officers.

**ELLIS**

You two were standing right here. How long?

**REYES**

We were dealing with the subject.

**ELLIS**

The subject is handcuffed in your back seat laughing. These three are dead. Did you hear anything?

**GRANT**

We heard yelling. Figured it was him.

Ellis looks at the bodies again, then at the officers.

**ELLIS**

You’re going to run the cameras from the businesses, right?

Reyes and Grant exchange a glance. One of the dead men is wearing clothes that could charitably be called “lived-in.”

**REYES**

(quietly)

One of them looks like he might’ve been homeless at some point.

**GRANT**

Yeah. Probably not worth the paperwork.

They stand there another few seconds. The argument stays low and circular: whether the bodies were already there, whether it matters, whether anyone really needs to open a full investigation.

Finally Reyes shrugs.

**REYES**

Call it. We’re off in twenty.

They walk to the cruiser. Mumbles is still in the back, still smiling at nothing. Grant starts the engine. Reyes pulls out his phone.

**REYES**

Starbucks? I’m getting the cheap one.

**GRANT**

Yeah. Get me one too.

The cruiser pulls away. The paramedics are left with the three bodies in the grass. Distant traffic continues. No one checks the cameras.

FADE OUT.

I'm not returning it, I'm just letting Reddit know.