Disclaimer: Don't own any sort of gas station or Supernatural. Mr. Eric Kripke, please come on down.

Being located in small town left the SPN gas-mart good for one thing, and really one thing only. Beer. Yes, the magical liquid that turned even the greatest of men into stumbling, bumbling idiots. The gas-mart's most frequent visitor, John Winchester, was not an exception for this statement. He was probably the reason the statement was made up, now that Uriel began to think about. So, that Saturday night when John came loudly bursting in to the brightly lit convenient store, walking straight back to the beer section, Uriel sighed in agony. He tried to make Raphael switch places with him, because he'd rather mop than check John Winchester and his mountains of beer out at the register.

"Hello Ariel." John smiled; already toasty it would seem, waving as he continued on towards the treasures of his quest.

"Hi John." Uriel grimaced, not even bothering to correct the man on his name. He'd keep butchering the damn thing till they were all called to Heaven one day. He'd found out long ago that there was no point in correcting the scruffy older man, because no matter how many times he tried, it would never be pronounced right. Oh, and that John Winchester didn't like to be corrected. Mainly the latter was the reason, if anything else. The one time he'd try to correct John Uriel ended up with a pack of Marlboros in his face after he managed to successfully dodge a single bottle of Corona that shatter against the tobacco cabinet behind him. Yes, correcting John Winchester was probably one of the worst experiences Uriel had ever encountered while working at the SPN gas-mart.

A loud crash brought Uriel out of his distant, depressing thoughts and his head whipped towards the back of the store, peering over shelves to see John looking at the floor, the cooler door still open and his arm still in the air. Uriel followed his arm up to his hand, noticing the empty spot where a six pack of Coors bottles used to be. A tiny groan left the darker man's lips and he signaled Michael to take the register and check out any customers while Uriel cleaned up the new mess.

"Oops. Guess I didn't have quite the grasp on the pack as I thought I did." John boomed, stepping to the side to let Uriel sweep up the glass and then proceed to mop up the awful smelling liquid. The disgusting smell was going to be stuck in his nostrils until he stuck his head in a vat of Febreeze, letting some overpowering, manufactured scent bleach the insides of each orifice out. Better than smelling Coors though.

"It's fine John. Accidents happen." Uriel calmly stated, swishing the mop back and forth over the mess, hearing scrapes from tiny glass shards he missed.

"Yeah they do." Uriel caught John's movements out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't quite register that John was going back to the cooler to pick up another pack of beer. This time in the form of a six pack of cans. Like he had too much force behind his arm he swung the six pack down, hitting Uriel in the side and then dropped the pack, certain cans hissing open as they hit the ground.

"OH SHIT!" John yelled, causing everyone else in the store to freeze and poke their heads from what they were doing to the beer section of the small mart.

"Oh damn. My side." Uriel groaned half toppled over because of the Winchester father.

"Ohholyshit. I'm 'gonna buy beer somewhere else!"John ran out of the store leaving Uriel crouching on the floor, surrounded by a pool of Coors.

Not as funny as I thought, but the fact that Uriel was getting beat up by beer made me laugh.

Reviews would be wonderful, as always. Thanks for reading