As Remy and Jimmy entered the alleyway past the security door, they would no doubt observe a scene of carnage; one more common-or-garden than the disaster taking place a short distance away, but carnage all the same. One of the trash cans out behind the bodega appeared to have toppled over, its contents strewn across the concrete ground and the ramped walkway leading up to the door. Fortunately, there was nothing too unseemly- the worst of the store's refuse went in the locked and mercifully not overturned dumpster, with the trash can being more for convenience, but a menagerie of moldy, half-eaten food left by people passing through the alley and broken glass and split cans carelessly dumped there by the same was hardly an appealing sight to behold.
What was about as unappealing a sight was the individual standing just behind the fallen can, their stubby arms in the air and their oversized, bugging-out eyes darting back and forth between the avalanche of waste and the two who had just come out into the alley.
"Now fellas, I realize this ain't exactly a pretty picture." It seemed as if there was a third bizarre individual who had arrived with the two currently browsing the bodega's wares, and while physically they were identical to 'Frankie' and 'Dean', it was hard not to notice the dramatic difference in personality: and the slow, lumbering timbre they spoke with. "But there ain't nothing afoot here, I just had myself a little acc-i-dent."
Back in the bodega itself, 'Frankie' and 'Dean' had decided that while they both had equally little idea what they'd set out to purchase with the money they'd acquired earlier today- "Long-lost in the haze of rejection and the ensuing passion," as Frankie put it- if they'd finally gotten their foot in the door they'd be remiss to not come out with something for their troubles. After three minutes and four arguments in which they bounced from magazines to soda to the weird off-brand construction toys near the register and back, they'd finally come to something resembling an agreement and moved on to the chiller with cold cuts.
They were a few minutes into a new argument- which cuts to get and what bread to have them with- when they felt a sudden jolt of fright that caused their impossibly round ears to stick up. They shared a confused glance, wondering for a moment what was so existentially terrifying about their debate about coppa and bresaola, before realization hit them.
"What is it, Sammy, the cops?" Frankie asked, raising a stubby hand to his head to focus on talking to their lookout.
"... Oh yeah, I was meant to be lookin' out for them." The response came after a few beleaguered seconds, Frankie and Dean's ears twitching as they received the communications from outside and fed it into their brains. "Naw, I just thought I saw a rat and knocked over a trash can."
"Should have got me to be the lookout," Dean groaned. Frankie glanced up at him dubiously- all these hot takes, and he'd have been happy sitting it out?- but a moment later he looked back down and focused on his other 'sibling'.
"Now look, Sammy, accidents happen, it ain't no big thing. But the fella in charge of this here outfit is the only one we've met all day who hasn't had his head up his ass. Take care of business so we can keep doing business, yeah?"
"I know, Frankie, but how's you supposing I should do that?"
"Come on, Sammy, you big palooka." Frankie sighed. God, to be sadled with such steaming malalukes for brothers. "You know what to do."
"... Oh, right." All while that conversation had been going on, 'Sammy' had been staring into space, their 'ears' twitching away as they seemingly completely forgot about the two humans present to speak to thin air.
That in itself was confounding, but it didn’t stop there. When they'd spoken before, it had been with a mouth more than a little too small for their bulbous head. But now that same mouth opened wider than should have physically been possible, the orifice expanding like an iris or camera shutter to almost encompass their entire face, revealing oversized and very noticeably and distressingly human-looking teeth.
But even that paled in comparison to the fever dream that laid behind them. As those horrible teeth came into view, something extended from the 'throat' behind them. At first, it seemed to be nothing more than a long tube, perhaps a tongue- but as it fanned out into the shape of a funnel, it was hard to miss the countless lamprey-like teeth embedded into every available inch of the structure's interior, nor how far they extended back, the depth of its 'throat' stretching into a long darkness revealed by the faintest hint of some eerie light at its terminus.
With a sudden rush and intake of air akin to a vacuum being turned on, the bizarre organ began to pull in the ocean of refuse laid out before it. The 'teeth' inside spun and shredded it down into something that resembled dust more than ground-up refuse as 'Sammy' seemingly devoured the contents of the can that they'd knocked over, the source of the vacuum pulling it deep into the depths of their jaws.