Snackland Press had barely finished alphabetizing its third stack of “URGENT BUT UNCLEAR” memos when Allen Apple struck.

Clipboard in hand. Tie too tight. Eyes glowing with the faint, dangerous shimmer of policy enforcement.

“Alright team,” Allen announced, tapping the board labeled MANDATORY PRODUCTIVITY INITIATIVE. “We’re implementing overtime.”

A hush fell across the room.

Somewhere in the distance, a gravy fountain slowed… as if sensing danger.

Jeff Jelly slid into position beside Allen, clutching a stack of forms labeled OVERTIME ACKNOWLEDGMENT — PLEASE DON’T READ, JUST SIGN.

“Phase one begins June 4th,” Jeff said, voice wobbling like unset gelatin. “Phase two escalates June 9th. Double overtime. Triple documentation. No fun.”

From across the room came a deep, echoing slurp.

Obesseus.

He didn’t look up from his plate.

“OBESSEUS HEAR WORD ‘OVERTIME,’” he said, calmly scooping a mountain of mashed potatoes. “OBESSEUS DO NOT LIKE WORD.”

Grant the Grapefruit leaned against a filing cabinet, casually polishing his shades.

“Oh this should be good,” Grant muttered. “They brought paperwork to a buffet fight.”

June 4th: The First Attempt

Allen marched forward like a general of spreadsheets.

“Obesseus, Grant—you are both required to report for extended duties starting June 4th. This includes—”

Obesseus stood up.

Not fast. Not dramatic.

Just… inevitable.

Like a buffet table realizing it’s about to get emptied.

“NO,” Obesseus said.

Silence.

Allen blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“NO,” Obesseus repeated, louder this time. “JUNE 4TH NOT FOR OVERTIME.”

Jeff nervously flipped through his notes. “But… but it’s on the schedule…”

Grant pushed himself off the cabinet, strolling into the center like he’d been waiting his whole life for this exact moment.

“You two really thought June 4th belonged to you?” Grant said, smirking. “That’s adorable.”

Allen adjusted his glasses. “It’s a standard operational date.”

Grant laughed.

Not a polite laugh. Not a corporate chuckle.

A this-meeting-is-over laugh.

“June 4th,” Grant said, pointing at the board, “is preorder day.”

The room shifted.

Even the ninja muffins stopped mid-flip.

Obesseus raised his arms like a champion entering the arena.

“OPERATION GRAVY BLOCKADE… AVAILABLE FOR PREORDER JUNE 4TH!”  

The words echoed like thunder wrapped in gravy.

Allen froze.

Jeff dropped his forms.


June 9th: The Final Attempt

Allen, now visibly shaken but still clinging to the last scraps of structure, cleared his throat.

“Fine. Fine. We’ll… adjust June 4th. But June 9th—June 9th is locked. Mandatory overtime. No exceptions.”

Jeff nodded rapidly. “Yes! June 9th is non-negotiable! It’s… it’s… peak efficiency day!”

Grant slowly turned.

That same dangerous calm.

“That so?”

Obesseus stepped forward again, this time with a grin that spelled chaos incoming.

“JUNE 9TH…” Obesseus began.

Jeff braced himself.

Allen clenched his clipboard.

“IS LAUNCH DAY.”

The room exploded.

Gravy fountains surged.

Signs fell off the walls.

A random intern screamed, “IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW!”

Grant snapped his fingers. “That’s right. June 9th… Operation Gravy Blockade goes live.”

Obesseus stomped once, sending a ripple through the floor.

“NO OVERTIME. ONLY STORYTIME.”



 The Collapse of Overtime Authority

Allen tried to speak.

Nothing came out.

Jeff attempted to gather his papers, but they slipped through his gelatinous hands like a metaphor that writes itself.

Around them, Snackland Press came alive.

Not with order.

Not with structure.

But with something far more dangerous to the No-Fun Squad:

Anticipation.

Grant leaned in close to Allen, lowering his voice just enough to sting.

“You tried to assign overtime to a buffet legend and a chaos consultant,” he said. “On launch week.”

He patted Allen on the shoulder.

“That’s not scheduling. That’s self-sabotage.”



 Official Announcement

- June 4th → Preorder Opens for Operation Gravy Blockade  
- June 9th → Official Launch Day

No forms required.  
No approvals needed.  
No overtime accepted.

Final Notes from Snackland Press

Allen Apple has since been seen reorganizing an empty folder labeled “Control.”  
Jeff Jelly is reportedly still trying to file a complaint that keeps sliding off the page.

Obesseus?

Back at the buffet.

Winning.

Grant?

Watching it all unfold… like he planned it five moves ago.

And somewhere, deep in the chaos, a single message echoes through Snackland:

You don’t schedule legends. You preorder them.