The sliding doors whoosh open, and the cool air and faint candy smell of the video store wash over you. You feel a charge of excitement zap you from head to toe, in spite of yourself and in spite of your FORMER friends being boring assholes. You step inside, and man, you are in the zone, in your element, a master of cinematic connoisseurship. This is definitely, totally, completely not reminding you of the million and one other times you did this while practically skipping, imagining Rose, Dave and Jade'sthose losers' reactions to each scene and line and piece of music.
You know the route by heart: turn right, head straight to the back of the store and get straight into the M-N sweet spot in the centre of the Action section. To your great relief, National Treasure is right there. You absently think it's kind of strange how it was there the last seven times you rented it, too, even though there's only one copy. You'd think people would practically be fighting each other over it!
While you're at it, you weave through the various sections and scoop up Deep Impact (oh man, you haven't seen it in FOREVER), Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, Men in Black, Alien, and Monty Python and the Holy Grail on your way to the front.
As you're traversing the rest of the Comedy section on your way to the cashier, you think you've got a decent haul already. But you're just barely out of the V's and into the W's when another movie catches your eye, and you stop and stare at it a while.
It's a comedy movie from some time ago, called Weekend at Bernie's, from the looks of it. You pick up and flip it over, scanning the description. You've never heard of any of the actors, and the plot seems like it kind of leaves something to be desired (a dead guy being used like a puppet to make it seem like he's still alive?), and you get the feeling it won't exactly have a sweeping soundtrack. Still, you're feeling kind of bitter and a little heartbroken adventurous today, so what the hell. It goes into your stack of goods as well.
You sidle into line, humming tunelessly and hugging your rentals-to-be to yourself, contemplating the doubtless awesome and exciting marathon you've got lined up tonight. Who even needs company? Besides, you're just gonna have to accept that nobody has the same highly developed taste that you do-
"...and while we're on the topic it'd be calamitously untoward of me not to wonder whether you've caught the newest Cage flick yourself!"
Your head snaps up, and you very nearly stop breathing.
It sounds as though the voice is coming from the front. You step sideways and peer around the person in front of you.
And stare.
A tan, muscular boy with weird old-fashioned glasses - rectangular, gold-rimmed, a little too big for his face - is standing behind the counter in his button-festooned Video Mania uniform, kinda-sorta neglecting his cashier duties in favour of talking loudly and animatedly to his silent, slightly bemused-looking customer. His hands are going this way and that as he gestures excitedly with each sentence, price gun still in his left hand and occasionally swinging perilously close to the ancient-looking machinery surrounding him. He's also talking with pretty much the fakest-sounding English accent you've ever heard, and a little second-hand embarrassment creeps under your skin because not even your attempt at an English accent is that bad. Though it suits him somehow, you think.
But the creepy thing is that his wind-swept hair is the same pitch black as yours, and his eyes and nose are basically the same shape as what you yourself see in the mirror every morning, and when he grins and waves goodbye as his customer leaves, you see that his teeth are big and crooked and it's all he can do to close his mouth around them. You're also pretty sure that if you and he were to stand side by side, neither of you would be more than about a half inch taller than the other. He has big hands and long fingers, and he's definitely scanning bar codes and writing on receipts and adjusting his glasses with his left hand, not his right, and--
You stop because this is probably just a bunch of stupid coincidences and you're starting to sound a little gay here. Anyway, it's your turn to go up and fork over your cash, so you step forward and place your stuff on the counter.
He turns to you, smiling brilliantly. "Ahoy, good sir, and what resplendent jewels in film history's crown will I be ringing up for you today?"
Right after the words leave his mouth he seems to falter slightly and look at you curiously for a half-second. Maybe for the same reason you did? His eyes are bright green. You steal a glance at his name tag - "JAKE".
You're just starting to respond when he looks down at your last-minute addition to your movie night selections. He literally gasps, his eyes going wide, and looks up at you with a radiant expression.
> John: Enter the video store. (FILL: TEAM JOHN<3ROSE)
FORMERfriends being boring assholes. You step inside, and man, you are in the zone, in your element, a master of cinematic connoisseurship. This is definitely, totally, completely not reminding you of the million and one other times you did this while practically skipping, imaginingRose, Dave and Jade'sthose losers' reactions to each scene and line and piece of music.You know the route by heart: turn right, head straight to the back of the store and get straight into the M-N sweet spot in the centre of the Action section. To your great relief, National Treasure is right there. You absently think it's kind of strange how it was there the last seven times you rented it, too, even though there's only one copy. You'd think people would practically be fighting each other over it!
While you're at it, you weave through the various sections and scoop up Deep Impact (oh man, you haven't seen it in FOREVER), Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, Men in Black, Alien, and Monty Python and the Holy Grail on your way to the front.
As you're traversing the rest of the Comedy section on your way to the cashier, you think you've got a decent haul already. But you're just barely out of the V's and into the W's when another movie catches your eye, and you stop and stare at it a while.
It's a comedy movie from some time ago, called Weekend at Bernie's, from the looks of it. You pick up and flip it over, scanning the description. You've never heard of any of the actors, and the plot seems like it kind of leaves something to be desired (a dead guy being used like a puppet to make it seem like he's still alive?), and you get the feeling it won't exactly have a sweeping soundtrack. Still, you're feeling
kind of bitter and a little heartbrokenadventurous today, so what the hell. It goes into your stack of goods as well.You sidle into line, humming tunelessly and hugging your rentals-to-be to yourself, contemplating the doubtless awesome and exciting marathon you've got lined up tonight. Who even needs company? Besides, you're just gonna have to accept that nobody has the same highly developed taste that you do-
"...and while we're on the topic it'd be calamitously untoward of me not to wonder whether you've caught the newest Cage flick yourself!"
Your head snaps up, and you very nearly stop breathing.
It sounds as though the voice is coming from the front. You step sideways and peer around the person in front of you.
And stare.
A tan, muscular boy with weird old-fashioned glasses - rectangular, gold-rimmed, a little too big for his face - is standing behind the counter in his button-festooned Video Mania uniform, kinda-sorta neglecting his cashier duties in favour of talking loudly and animatedly to his silent, slightly bemused-looking customer. His hands are going this way and that as he gestures excitedly with each sentence, price gun still in his left hand and occasionally swinging perilously close to the ancient-looking machinery surrounding him. He's also talking with pretty much the fakest-sounding English accent you've ever heard, and a little second-hand embarrassment creeps under your skin because not even your attempt at an English accent is that bad. Though it suits him somehow, you think.
But the creepy thing is that his wind-swept hair is the same pitch black as yours, and his eyes and nose are basically the same shape as what you yourself see in the mirror every morning, and when he grins and waves goodbye as his customer leaves, you see that his teeth are big and crooked and it's all he can do to close his mouth around them. You're also pretty sure that if you and he were to stand side by side, neither of you would be more than about a half inch taller than the other. He has big hands and long fingers, and he's definitely scanning bar codes and writing on receipts and adjusting his glasses with his left hand, not his right, and--
You stop because this is probably just a bunch of stupid coincidences and you're starting to sound a little gay here. Anyway, it's your turn to go up and fork over your cash, so you step forward and place your stuff on the counter.
He turns to you, smiling brilliantly. "Ahoy, good sir, and what resplendent jewels in film history's crown will I be ringing up for you today?"
Right after the words leave his mouth he seems to falter slightly and look at you curiously for a half-second. Maybe for the same reason you did? His eyes are bright green. You steal a glance at his name tag - "JAKE".
You're just starting to respond when he looks down at your last-minute addition to your movie night selections. He literally gasps, his eyes going wide, and looks up at you with a radiant expression.
What's his deal?
> John: Be the cashier.