video store
The main thing of it is is that the main difference between me and a fuck of a lot of the fucking people I look at am looking at all of the goddamned motherfucking time is that I know they are cunts and they don’t. This is it. There are other things and other motherfucking differences but this is primary principia this is the immovable thing that the electrons sigh into clouds around.
And What? What is it that you don’t understand? The prices have not gone up. No. No they have not you godforsaken bastard. Well if the last motherfucking time you were in here was sometime in the Christfucked distant past my man then perhaps yes yes the prices may have been lower.
Well this is ridiculous. It’s ridiculous. I might as well buy the movie for this.
So buy it then. You numbcunted wretch. Then buy it if you have put so much thought into this.
It’s robbery. You know? You guys think that you have us in here so then you can just gouge us and I think it’s wrong. Not that there’s really anywhere else to go right? So I guess we just have to deal with it.
And meanwhile I am what? I’m fucking what? Seventeen or else I’m nineteen or else I’m twenty one twenty two twenty three twenty four and I am wearing these blank pants and a faded jean blue motherfuck shirt or a red shirt or a blue blue shirt and I have a goddamned name tag on so this cunt and all of the other ones there behind him can give me those scoffing little head jiggles of theirs. Humph Pumph and then waddle waggle fart their faggot ways out of the door and they full well know I am probably the sole personality responsible for all of the miseries in this dipshit of a world that I will ruin them and yes the policies of Blockbuster video are the spawn of my masturbating to murky jabbering perversion all through the night I cum the policies into the sink and then exhausted pleasant I wipe them away with water and pat my hands wet with water and them onto the bare skin of my back or the knees of my corduroy pants my plaid lounge pants.
Hi how are you doing today?
I’m fine. And yourself?
I’m fantastic. And do you have your card on you today?
I don’t.
Or your I.D. will work just as well.
My drivers license?
I scrape a sigh just between my clenched two tip front fucking teeth and a causal crane of my neck means I would rape you with my cock still limp just to show you how bored and frustrated that last fucking dick clomp made me.
Yes that’ll work. This is a great film by the way.
Which one?
I point.
Oh.
I’ve heard that. What about this one?
I commented on that one too but I can tell that my bloat of a gag whore manager (bullshit) is looking in this direction and I am still going to find a way to make her pay for that snarky underhanded passive aggressive nonsense cockfucked shit she sniped at me earlier.
I can comment on movies in my motherfucking sleep. I am an automaton of graciousness and genuinely intriguing facts opinions recitations and insights on cinema from many eras. Not one of these other dickheads mind you that are pretenders and always pretend pretend pretend like they are some all knowing connoisseurs. This one fucker he fucking thought that he could get off just dropping all of the obviouses like Goddard like Polanski like Christing Spielberg for a whorebent mongrels sake. Spielberg. Well there’s a name you don’t hear every single motherfuck of a motherfukcing day of your whole life long. Steven? Ven? Ste? Ven? How do you spell that? Wow. Aren’t you a full of it loser. I bet you spend all day long just coming up with exciting new ways to be a worthless cum dribbling moron.
What it is standing at the register counter here it is just called The Registers other places it is called At Check Out other places the cunting Cash Wrap and the nuance and specificities rolling limping along is that I basically am stationary positioned standing halfway over a trash can and halfway over another trashcan this other fucking trashcan not goddamned used for trash but for these mincing little pieces of bastard shit locking devices they slip from the godforsaken film cases and clunk down into the pit of each other and odd smears from whatever the fuck from whenever the fuck it was that the last mix up happened and the lock bin motherfucking trashcan was used as a regular trash can. This is a position I apparently am quite bred for. Marvelous cocksucking machine I make myself of it.
You poor sopping cunt. Poor minister of importance. What? You’ve wound up in line behind somebody else? Well now you glower those globs of dogshit glances at me. Because I’m on your side. I am. You are an ass sucking prat but you have my sympathy. Because you need with all capital letters that copy of whatever shit you’ve so graciously decided to tuck under your sleeveless shirted underarms. Fuck. Fuck. Well I’ll just slap this bastard in front of me to one motherfucking side.
The last time I got a movie from here it was all scratched up. Is there a credit on there from that?
Pause. Pause. I should be the most lauded scum of a piss drenched actor for my Looking Through The Account History performance. Hmmn. And tap tap taptaptaptap to the keyboarded. Hmmn. No. I don’t see one. You crow. You fucking cock gagging window cleaning dick.
There should be one. Whatever the last movie I got. Didn’t work.
Which one?
I don’t know. Look it up. Whatever the last one was.
Did someone say they put a credit on there?
I returned it after hours. I don’t have time to drive out here just because your guys’s movies don’t work. I left a note on it.
And the sad reality the only point of importance that I am thinking of is that it’s a bit of shame that this man has never successfully brought a woman to orgasm not even a polite moan of a half hearted fake I’ve no doubt but also a mewing little thought behind it not so fucking much that it breaks the crisp of my blunt etched customer care façade another thought a cunt hair of a thought about how I liked the scene in Nick Of Time where the main guy cleverly uses the fucking handicapped veteran sign to convince Christopher Walken that the shoe shiner is deaf.
Is that right? Shine man? You can’t hear me.
Pay attention. Pay strict attention though. Just fucking watch and see in the scene where Walken is paying for the Shine.
Two dollars if it pleases you the shine man says.
And Walken says It does not. I remember when it was two bits.
And the shine man chuckles at the remark. And Walken does not pick up on it.
So what the fuck? Nothing tragic but there are slips to everything it’s why we can feel the shrill bitches of the cold walk to work air through scarves and pant fabrics my morning cock still hard though my balls shriveling to tightened fucking fists the wind goes through what we surround our fucking selves with coats gloves that are for shit either way the boots if we bother to waste out lives in boots fuck all of it everything there are spaces between everything we are so one hundred percent certain covers our fucking frames with stabs of everything that pick our bones globber on us dribble the spit and the taste of day old cunt and cock sucks holes in our skin that let the rank of the raw air the animal piss the roaring fuck of exhaust and penniless coughs grunts sighs of the cocksuckers always smoking their cigarettes and leering at the underage girls and shit we all leer at too.
A note on it? Well I cannot speak to that point I’m afraid. Unfortunately you slutting dick we do not have to do what your scribbled notes in drop boxes say.
Well the movie did not work.
I understand that.
I’m not saying all of the time. Usually you guys are alright.
A brilliant shift in motherfucker tactics. Well played.
Look I can go ahead and give you a credit this time. In the future though.
But no no no need to finish the magic words are out there he has breathed them and will jerk off to this triumph later get his toes to curl up grip the thin blue top sheet or whatever the fucking fuck just now he will dribble the rest of his blarg of vomit at me how he does business how his wife assures him he is the only one who has satisfied her even no ever the only fucker ever and no no her three four five fingers deep imbedded furious shakes and slips of flat four fingers side to side over spit she dribbles down over her clit just for an extra sensation are no fucking match for his wit and intelligence and his peanut long cock his shaft and head all a crumple of the same thing and it is his mind his personality all of those godforsaken things that are the goddamned true measure of a man and there is no cunting need as far as she can see that he even needs to clear his hands after work his face and it’s so fucking stimulating to see him in the same dirty Black Sabbath shirt day after day that sometimes she leaves a trail of the froth that wets her cunt it streams a line down the inside of her thigh colouring her stockings deeper passionately deeper fuck fucking yes and other worthless cunts that envy the magnitude of his ability to rent the single most uninventive and (what is this? Fucking Assassins with Antonip Banderas?) poorly rendered piece of cinema in the store after wandering around for almost an hour can just watch with their shit green eyes with their prune dry peeled fruit skin dry little blubbers of snatches moaning and cackling out after her for just a sniff of the stink that he wretches on her each morning.
I round up the change that I give all the time as it is just insufferably fucking stupid to give away four pennies or three pennies I pause and ponder at two pennies but come to the conclusion that I hardly give a shit.
And so the films Assassins and (something) go into the bag after And will you be needing a bag today? and the dumb shits back and forth with himself one can almost picture the two versions of this cunt floating next to his either ear and his No that’s alright but then wait No no I’d better take one I’m going next door.
Well. Next door. Better have a bag then you poor fucker. Next door with no bag? Imbecilic. What was I even thinking? Next door puts an entirely different complexion on the matter. If I had only known this a moment ago I would have saved us all that fucking torment of simple goddamned decision making.
Thanks. You have a good day.
And the next fucker the line four deep behind him already has plonked his fucking movie down and has of course made no move to produce his card his wallet still in his goddamned rear pocket he is looking into the vacant motherfukcing air next to me indicating forward momentum on his part a cocksucking visionary the things he sees the places he has to imperative imperative and not a bastard of a moment too fucking soon must go and this betrayed so perfectly by the slump of his parted lips and how I really think he is standing bloated little cunt of a dog fucker on his tippy toes a bit looking at something at something the inside of the window clings the Coming Soon board.
I pause taking my time of unlocking what turned out to be Showdown In Little Tokyo pick up a pen just to show that I also have some other important goddamn things to consider this pen the obvious indicator of it.
Do you have your card on you today?
No.
And that is it. No. He blurmps it out. One word one syllable that his fumbling spit bubbled lip somehow makes two or three. And a smile. Proud. Yes he has made his point. That is it. Nothing further. A grin almost. Challenging. The mischief of the fucking ancients.
Or you I.D. will work just as well.
In the car he replies.
Cryptic. Abstract. The man is standing on the shoulders of philosophers and this is what he has to say so I ask him his last name. He fucking wins he always wins he is the champion cocksucker of the lower thirty eight fucking states or something and I cannot get a jab in there a lick I cannot feint or juke the bastard he has me.
Would it be under a different first name?
Shouldn’t be.
Mmn. Or a different last name?
My name is Wilson Franks. And then fucker spells it. First and last as one burble burp of mish mawed consonants and approximates of vowels one sound one strand of drool slipping down his throat gorge not coming up or down while he says it. And then for good measure just as fast as he can says his telephone number and then also asks and answers the question Or do you want a drivers license number? reciting the number like a stick run across cage bars.
No I don’t want your drivers licenses number. Could you spell the name again? Fucking tampon chewing bitch. Yeah. That’s not coming up. Are you sure it wouldn’t be under another name.
I’m sure. I’ve got my I.D. in the car.
Which would have the same name on it but sure fucking fuck off to your car truck whatever the whoring fuck I just open and close the copy of Showdown In Little Tokyo a few times and still the fucking bitch has not stopped what she is doing to come pick up the line. She knows there is no one else on staff with Donovan out on break and all the new girl in back doing some training or paperwork or whatever the Christing fuck else not that she could be an aid. It is a point of pride though to not belch out the whore’s name she’s got too little farts of eyes she knows the motherfucking shot.
I just have to wait for this guy to get back from the car I say and have tapped the name a few more times into the system still to have it not show up.
Well I just have a return someone says disgusted. And as pleasant as a motherfucking pea wearing linen pajamas I say I’m terribly sorry. I’ll take that. With returns you don’t need to wait in line. You can drop them there or
But no the cunt isn’t even listening No. She must storm storm out in her motherfucking puffy vest and set her glasses stir them this way that to her hook of a cuntfucked nose. And off she goes the wind to carry her a handful of silver sand and loose strands of hair grey whitened blonde at a time toward the paste of fucking yellow pink maroon grey strokes of white of the sky out past the fucking store there a lolling hand clap of purpose a mist of reason and fucking stability if even I have seen one because everyone should know me love me I can hear the clap of her clomping ten dollar fucking boot shoes say because I am the smartest and that is so much more important that being the prettiest and pretty isn’t beautiful and I am the rise of moon and the cold light and the frost on the flowers.
