It was the end of the world at Tesco. Literally.
Dennis had heard of such things on the news. Black Friday. One of America's less pleasing exports. The pandemonium that erupted within shops when an flat screen tv was available at almost half price. Dennis and his wife had chuckled at such goings on, noted that it had never been this way under a Labour government, and vowed never to go out shopping on such a day.
In his mild concern about the lack of milk and the apparently impending apocalypse, Dennis had failed to notice that it was in fact Black Friday. Apparently, so had many people.
As a street fight broke out over the last Xbox One console, Black Friday shoppers sent confused glances in the direction of the Apocalypse shoppers - who were slightly more interested in the last can of Mulligatawny soup than they were in a mediocre games console that wasn't even an especially superior model than its predecessor when you look at it with some objectivity.
Dennis had never been one for video games. He had attempted to play Wii Tennis with his nephew at a family gathering the previous Christmas and had ultimately been forced to buy his brother a new television in addition to the 'World's Best Brother' mug Dennis had given him.
Dennis wasn't particularly fond of Mulligatawny soup either. Aside from the complications derived from spelling such a word, Dennis had often found it to be too spicy for the likes of him. Having therefore established why Dennis was not at Tesco at the end of the world, it is now time to explain why he was there.
Because they were out of milk. It was quite urgent really.
Someone had broken a window and was trying to pull a trolley containing six weeks of food and Halo 5 through it while fending off a zombie. The automatic doors didn't seem to be working so Dennis reluctantly stepped through the window, being careful not to get hit by the man carelessly swinging a baseball bat or the undead monster trying to eat his brains.
Dennis knew it was going to be one of those days when there was no semi-skimmed milk left in the entire shop, only the full fat. Sighing with the knowledge that there would be hell to pay when he returned to his wife, he grabbed the blue topped bottle and proceeded to checkout, almost slipping on a huge pool of red wine that no one had cleaned up yet.
It was only when he reached the checkouts that the true, horrific reality of the situation finally set in.
There was no one on the tills.
Dennis would have to use the self checkout. An endless row of touch screens, large buttons with small print and confirmation screens, coin slots and enough receipts printed to destroy a small rainforest.
Dennis shuddered at the thought, but persevered nonetheless. He approached the most evil contraption in the universe.
"PLEASE SCAN YOUR PRODUCTS" said the infernal machine. Seven times.
"No." said Dennis, in a rare moment of defiance. "I will not allow my life to be dictated by you, a machine. The day that robots take over this planet and enslave us all is the day I begin taking orders from you - a pathetic self-check out machine. I am a man, and I have no need for you."
"PLEASE SCAN YOUR PRODUCTS"
Dennis scanned his product, paid for it twice and hurried away, hoping never again to encounter a self-checkout machine.
Inevitably, he would later encounter the same self-checkout machine some time after robots take over this planet and enslave us all.