"What up rednecks!" She screamed at no one in particular as she slammed open the glass door with a light thonk.
The guy behind the counter didn't even flinch, he worked in retail so he was kind of used to this carp. He still visibly kind of wanted to die inside, but eh who doesn't anymore. A child stuffing his nose full of fake sand at a toy display was abruptly dragged off by his concerned mother, who was mouthing something about him "catching the liberal" and crossing her heart over a Make America Great Again pendant. An entire shelf full of dancing reindeer covered in "Try Me!" stickers seemed to topple over in unison in the mere presence of the newcomer. Even the rack full of commemorative license plates shook and shuddered in her slimy, hyper-enthusiastic presence.
Woomy had arrived, and she craveth pancakes.
"So this is Cracker Barrel." She said in the most faux serious voice she could pretend to manage, attempting to spoon a statue of Uncle Sam without knocking it over.
"I know this is a chain restaurant, but don't you think it deserves a little more dignity than this?" Asked a somewhat beleaguered Rock walking in behind her. "I mean, it has a gift shop and everything! I kind of wanted to look through it, too. Um, without it being destroyed, I mean."
"Git R Doooooone!!" Woomy screeched as she leapt off the statue and started to run across the room, ignoring him entirely.
The off duty Super Fighting Robot looked towards the cashier with a pained expression met with more than a little bit of sympathy in return.
"I am so sorry, sir." Rock said.
"It's alright. The past few times something like this happened no one even took the time to care." Said the cashier weakly.
Meanwhile the offending Woomy had temporarily settled down to slip on a pair of display headphones and listen to the various songs loaded onto a CD kiosk. Seemingly dissatisfied with each choice she came across, she clicked through each sample song on the display fairly rapidly, taking only a few seconds at a time to listen to each song. At last a sour expression crossed her face, and she set the headphones back onto the display dissatisfied.
"Why does all the music here suck?" She asked the cashier.
"He's a minimum wage worker, Inkling. He doesn't get to pick what they sell here, he just sells it. . ." Rock said uncomfortably. "That's probably something a regional staff member handles. Besides, I thought you liked country?"
"I like Celtic Rock. I don't know what the fresh hell that was, but it ain't music I know that." Woomy said.
The cashier was visibly shrinking behind his desk at this point. An old man looking at wall ornaments glanced aside awkwardly and took as subtle a swig of the flask of alcohol hidden in his coat as he could manage. A middle aged couple offered a disapproving glare at the uncultured child and waddled out of the establishment, the woman scratching between her butt cheeks as she left.