Cosmic Gas Station

Slaybors peel a billion people every minute. Don’t get peeled! Tape down what’s yours with Pavel’s Pore-Tape. “Oh god it’s sticky!”

Remember! Goreflem eggs are not destroyed by a single pass of your flamethrower. A second, sustained burn is required to burst the neural sacks.

Salty Beth’s BoreTech Bobble-heads are the preemo space buccaneer for your next trek across the cosmos! Oh boy do they know shanties for every occasion! Featuring classics like, ‘Scurvy Hurty,’ and ‘Don’t ask me about my hooks’. Aisle 69

The dull thoughts of baseliners polluting your hivemind? Don’t put up with the grey another day! Get yourselves a Nodeworm now!
[Nodeworms are highly invasive. Results may vary]

Got milk? We don’t! Send milk now!
[swimming in sweet sweet milk and want to donate? Please use the buckets scattered throughout the store]

Mind the dust! It will erase you and multiple adjacent timelines. But you probably won’t notice that part.

We regret to inform you that the station has once again been swallowed by a giant quantum worm. Rest assured we will be back to our regular pleasant hours of ALWAYS as soon as our parallel maintenance window closes. We apologize for the inconvenience!

All baseliners must be accompanied.

Experiencing clone rot? Your DNA scrambled by too harsh a rad? Sluffage got you down? Look no further than You-Glue! Fill in those pesky gaps of code with grade A Simian Select, our newest flavor!

Baseliners PLEASE READ: You are safe here. The fundamental forces of your reality are inalienable; they are not suggestions. You exist and have agency. The past and future are objectively real. Please stop screaming.

Attention: At 05€¥’£ we will be conducting a drill. You may experience nausea, the experience of being trapped in a labyrinth of mirrors - wandering beneath an ochre sky, hunted by your own reflections, days passing into years, memory worn like sand smoothed stone - and a mild headache. Thank you.

Have you misplaced your sense of self? The dualistic illusion of time and space gone? Tired of enlightenment? Miss the grind? Try DefaultMode, the number one energy drink for egoic fixation!

Employees are not medical technicians, mental health workers, or particle ouvriers. Please respect their limitations.

The Ten Thousand Martyrs are banned until further notice. If you find one baking beneath the lemon moonlight, or huffing gas fumes, please wave your arms in a violent manner until they leave. Thank you.

Please respect the firmament. Keep questions, prayers, and gnostic desperation to a minimum while on the premise, or you will be asked to leave.

Misplaced your baseliner? Please see a member of our staff immediately.

Pump 4 now offers UltraGlidePlus, the elite fuel of star scoundrels! Seize that luminiferous aether by the flaps and never let go!

All possible futures collapsed into this moment! Here, your claw hovering over the display case of eight (Eight!) different camouflage vanity lighters! Which spectrum do you wish to hide from while lighting up that preem magenta grass?

The Apocalypse Bear can only perceive those that fear it, so this is literally and metaphysically your problem. Please do not involve the staff.

New bumper stickers available on the rack:
Knowledge is the Final Burden
We are naught but a flesh torus
Ask me about my Reckoning With Apocalypse Bear
My other ride is Frothing At The Mouth
Mullerian System Users have more Fun

Review from another happy Customer: “That Gas Station is a liminal space where cause and effect are naught but the ragged sailcloth of the mad.”

We DO NOT sell string-tech ordnance of level 5 or above. We don’t have coolers of strangelet bombs sitting in overstock in the basement. If you want a portable wormhole linked to the belly of a star, DO NOT ask at Register 35.

The slushy flavor LungFish Slime is on temporary leave due to an EXTINCTION EVENT. Thank you for your patience.

Don’t look too long into the drains, past the snarls of hair and slivers of baleen bone, and into that howling silence. That smell, the jungle juice of enzymes and Redbull. The burp of hot bottle-return air. Recognize the event horizon of your understanding. Few resist it forever.

HighG is the fuel for the sensual gravity fiend in you! Let our luxury fuel massage your weary organs! Pump 84!
(HighG is not suitable for most vertebrates. Check with your doctor to make sure your tubes are ready for luxury.)

Flay the fleem from your cowardly soul with Southern Jim’s Fleem Flayer! Impress your neighbors with your dribbling mounds of fleem.

Got a hankering for street meat, but can’t leave your house? What are you doing here? This isn’t the bathroom! You’ve WRONGED A THRESHOLD! THE HOME YOU REMEMBER NO LONGER EXISTS!

That green stuff on the nosepiece of your sunglasses is most likely copper and nickel oxidizing with your sweat. Most likely, but (but), can you truly know it’s not Hungarian Star-rot? You cannot. Replace them now at the turnstile, and find peace in a sure thing.

We now take competitor InfiniMart CredStikz! Remember to shop Local™ at your Cosmic Gas Station! ⛽️

WANTED: Destry Duke! Not for his bounty we just found his debit card. Gimme a call Duke.