The Yogurt Haunting (Aisle 7, Not Hell)

It started with the yogurt.

I was at the 24-hour grocery store at 2 AM because I’d run out of ice cream—a true emergency. The place was dead silent except for the hum of the fluorescent lights and the occasional thud from the meat freezer.

I reached for a peach yogurt, and a cold, raspy voice whispered directly into my ear: "That flavor is... expired."

I screamed. I threw the yogurt. It hit a display of protein powder, which exploded like a flour bomb. White dust everywhere. I turned around, ready to fight a ghost, but there was no one there. Just me, covered in protein powder, looking like a very stressed-out baker.

Then, I heard it again. "Check... the label..."

Trembling, I picked up the yogurt cup. The expiration date was last week. I sighed in relief. "It’s just old yogurt," I muttered.

"No," the voice sighed, sounding deeply disappointed in me. "I meant YOUR label. You forgot to scan the hummus."

I looked up. It was Gerald. The night stocker. He was holding a clipboard and a spray bottle, looking exhausted.

"You’re not a ghost?" I asked, wiping protein powder off my face.

Gerald stared at me. "Ma'am, I clock in at midnight. If I were a ghost, I’d be haunting a beach, not aisle seven." He paused. "Also, you’re blocking the lactose-free cream cheese."

I tried to move, but my foot was stuck in a puddle of spilled almond milk. As I struggled, Gerald didn’t help. He just watched, sipping a lukewarm coffee.

"Welcome to the haunted house," he whispered, his eyes glowing slightly under the flickering lights. "We accept EBT."

I haven’t been back since. I buy my yogurt in bulk now. And I always check the hummus. 👻🥛🫒

Bonus trauma: Last week, I saw Gerald’s name on a ‘Team Member of the Month’ poster. His photo had been subtly airbrushed to include tiny, spectral wings. I called customer service. They said, "That’s just his ‘resting stocker face.’"

Moral: Never trust silence in a 24-hour store. Especially when the hummus is unscanned and the almond milk is plotting revenge.