It was a bitterly cold winter evening in a sleepy, picturesque Connecticut town, the type of place where nothing ever happened—until Robot and Zombie arrived. Snow blanketed the ground in thick layers, and the streets were virtually empty, save for the flickering light of the local gas station, "Midnight Fuel." This was where Robot and Zombie, in a haze of their usual incompetence, managed to score a job.

Of course, the only reason they were hired was because Robot had threatened the gas station’s owner, Mr. Perkins, with an absurd and incoherent scheme involving a fake lawsuit. Perkins, an old man with zero patience for nonsense, had only hired them to avoid more confrontation. He tossed them the keys and told them to lock up when the shift ended. He didn’t even stick around long enough to train them.

Robot strutted inside, his flannel shirt tied awkwardly around his waist and his beanie pulled down low. "Ah, it’s good to be king," he said, lounging back in the tiny cashier's chair, which was far too large for him.

Zombie shambled in behind, his Slayer T-shirt somehow looking even more torn than usual. He grunted softly and wandered over to a display of candy bars. He grabbed one and slowly tried to stick it in his mouth, wrapper and all.

"Hey! You can't eat those! We’re on the clock, you freak," Robot barked, but the reprimand lacked any real weight. Zombie was oblivious, chewing lazily through the plastic.

The gas station was quiet, illuminated by the dim glow of a single, sad-looking fluorescent light. Outside, the snow continued to fall in thick, lazy drifts. The night was still—too still, for Robot's taste. He wasn't cut out for silence.

"Boring," Robot muttered, slamming his fists on the counter. "What do these people do for fun in this backwater ice cube of a town? I’m dying here. I need action, excitement, cash!"

Zombie looked at Robot and blinked, as if considering this statement before promptly returning to gnawing on another candy bar.

“Ugh! You’re impossible!” Robot snapped. “That’s why you’ll never be a winner like me. You’ve got no ambition, Z. No drive!”

Zombie, as usual, didn’t respond. He was too busy walking slowly over to Robot, hand outstretched, attempting once again to stick Robot's head in his mouth.

“HEY! No! Get your rotting fingers away from me!” Robot swatted him away. “There’s a gas station to run here! We need to start making money, and we do that by—uh—doing stuff. Like... like that cash register. Look at that thing, Z. We need to master it. Figure out how to open it without, y’know, having to deal with the customers.”

Zombie turned to look at the cash register and then back at Robot. "Customers," Zombie mumbled.

“Yes! Exactly! And if we don’t have any, then we’ll MAKE them come to us!” Robot declared, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

His brilliant idea was to force open the gas station’s door to the cold, letting the icy wind blow in. It was winter after all, and in Robot’s twisted mind, making the station colder would somehow... attract people? He wasn’t entirely sure of the logic, but he was confident in it nonetheless.

Zombie, following orders as usual, helped by mindlessly tugging on the door with minimal effort. After several failed attempts, Robot managed to shove a rock in the doorframe, allowing the frigid air to flood inside.

"Now, we wait. Any second now, hordes of customers will be begging for gas and snacks, and we’ll be swimming in cash," Robot said, smirking.

Minutes passed. Then an hour. No customers. Nothing but the howling wind and the sound of Zombie lazily chewing another candy bar.

“Stupid townspeople,” Robot grumbled. “They’re clearly avoiding us because they’re jealous. They know we’re the future of this dump.”

Just then, a teenage girl walked by, bundled in a thick coat. It was Cathy, one of the few locals who occasionally interacted with Robot and Zombie. She paused, eyeing the scene in the gas station with a mixture of confusion and pity.

“Hey, Cathy!” Robot shouted, waving with an exaggerated flourish. “You here to pay homage to the kings of this pitiful excuse for a town? I don’t blame you. We’re taking over, baby!”

Cathy shook her head. “You’re insane, Robot.”

“No, I’m a visionary!” he snapped back. “Z, tell her I’m a visionary!”

Zombie blinked slowly at Cathy, mumbling, “Visionary.”

“See? Even Z agrees, and he’s not exactly a scholar.”

Cathy laughed, half-amused by Zombie’s vacant stare. “I’m not here for your lame show, Robot. You can barely run a gas station.”

Before Robot could shoot back with one of his usual snarky retorts, Vanessa, another teenager, joined Cathy outside. She gave Zombie a flirtatious look. "Hey, Z," she said, ignoring Robot entirely.

Robot fumed. "Hey! I'm the brains around here! You want to talk to the mastermind, not the... the undead mouth-breather!"

Vanessa smiled sweetly at Zombie, completely ignoring Robot. “Zombie, want to take a walk later? I hear there’s a snowball fight going on in the park. Maybe we can—"

“ZOMBIE DOESN’T DO DATES!” Robot cut in, blocking Vanessa’s view. “Besides, we’re running a business here. Professional gas station attendants, you know?”

Zombie, staring blankly at Vanessa, tried once again to shove Robot’s head in his mouth.

“Quit it!” Robot yelped, pushing him away. “I’m in charge here!”

Cathy and Vanessa exchanged looks before bursting into laughter. They turned to leave, shaking their heads, clearly entertained by the duo’s antics.

Robot glared after them. "You see, Z? That’s why this town is beneath me. They don’t understand genius."

Just then, Todd Burkin lumbered up to the station. He eyed Zombie suspiciously, as usual. “What’s with the mimicry?” Todd muttered, half-annoyed. “Are you making fun of me?”

Zombie, of course, just stared at him, expressionless.

Todd turned to Robot. “You owe me ten bucks from last time.”

Robot smirked. “Oh yeah? Well, you’ll get your money when I—wait, who are you again?”

“Burkin,” Todd said, rolling his eyes. “You tried to scam me last week, remember?”

“Pffft. Burkin, that’s a made-up name. I don’t owe anything to made-up names.”

Before Todd could respond, a gust of wind blew through the open door, knocking over the candy display Zombie had been raiding all night. Robot glanced over the mess and shrugged.

"Perfect timing! You get to clean up! See? I'm already running a tight ship!"

Zombie, without missing a beat, began eating another candy bar.

Robot, smug as ever, leaned back in his chair. "Another flawless victory, Z. Another flawless victory."

The snow continued to fall outside Midnight Fuel, unnoticed by Robot and Zombie, who remained oblivious to the absurdity they were trapped in.