The gamin throws the head, laughing hysterically. You jump to your feet, move to the side, dodge the worst of the impact, scale the well in a mighty bound, and jump out onto the shop floor where the nearest gamin stabs you in the side.

Yikes.

While processing the situation they remove their pocket knife from your person and run off into the store hotly pursued by the arriving salesforce. An officer stops to inspect you.

'Alright son? Looks like you got striped up a bit. Not to worry, I know the lad's mother, he won't get way with it.' and he slaps you on the shoulder and carries on the chase.

A floorwalker comes by soon after with a mundifier in tow to mop up the blood. 'It appears you have suffered a workplace injury. As per your contract, Sutlers takes no responsibility for injury or death on company time, however I will allow you to go home for the rest of the day, with the agreed pay. Good day.'

A FEW DAYS LATER

Sore, but in need of a shift, you return to work. The salesforce on the door tells you that the boy who stabbed you was found and dealt with. His mother sent him to the child asylum for a week to think about what he's done.

After awkwardly putting on your work clothes, your shift begins.

A small, furred creature the shape of a house cat but dressed in a colourful heraldic tabard approaches you with a swagger. They are armed like a knight with a spear and a shield in one hand and a bundle of barding for a mount under the other arm. It raps its spear shaft on the counter and demands, in a shrill and commanding voice,  'a shieth of spackles for my absent steed!’ With no further instructions, it waits for you to comply.

Option 1:  Bluff confidence, and without hesitation wrap up a bundle of mackerels.

Option 2: Service is your middle name, it is obviously referring to a sheaf of dry seaweed. Coming right up!

Option 3: Just pick the first thing at hand, a prepackaged paper cup full of bait fish.

'Put that back where you found it before I call the salesforce!' you say. 'Shouldn't that be "Waa, waa, gimme a ladder"?' they say right back. The regular customers can smell what's up, and it's not just a head of tuna, so they all pretend they see nothing and busy themselves in a different aisle. The gamins toss the head from one to another across the opening to the well, screaming 'be careful, don't drop it, or you might hurt the good Saint!'

That's it! You blow your safety whistle and alert the salesforce of the problem. A boy takes the fish head and holds it aloft, sticking his tongue out at you through a gap in his clenched teeth, and hurls it down with gleeful spite.

WHAT DO YOU DO!?

Option 1: Spring into action, dodge the head, heroically scale the wall and teach those gamins a lesson! Hopefully...

Option 2: Curl up in a ball, wait for help, and brace for impact.

Option 3: Hey, isn't this how St Colmen died? *splat*