Mushrooms

One day Fernando comes into the Dominion to find that the grassy island separating the road/parking lot before the store and the highway had sprouted campaign posters for assorted local politicians, advertising their zealous bids for power. Sadly, the Dominion claimed jurisdiction over none of that particular parcel of land and so Fernando is unable to just go out there and tear them all out of the ground. He could perhaps have acquired posters for the individuals' opponents and thrown them up in the interests of overall balance, but his job is movies, not politics, and he did not want anyone to believe that the stink of local elections and inevitable partisan bickering had permeated the store any more than they already had through the grace of those posters twenty feet away.

So he did nothing. The posters stayed where they were. They were blown down one day on which Mother Nature decided to smite the Dominion a good one but the following morning saw them standing back up.

About a week later, another poster appeared. This one was shoved into the dirt a mere fifteen feet from the store, but, lamentably, still not on or in front of Fernando's property. Fernando groaned and rolled his eyes and did his best to ignore them. None of Fernando's customers ever mentioned the posters, and that was fine.

On one afternoon in October, a gigantic white pickup pulls into the Dominion's parking lot. A young man, maybe twenty-five or so, steps out. He wears a pressed blue button down shirt and his hair is styled with significant amounts of gel. The chimes tinkle and the man comes up to the counter with a huge shit-eating grin on his face.

“Hey there, I noticed you have a Ted O'Mop poster out in front of the store. I'm with his campaign. How are you doing today?”

Fernando does not rise from his seat to give his guest a more polite welcome. At this juncture it seems good to mention that Fernando does not particularly agree with Mr. O'Mop, the cohorts who share his political inclinations, and the policies they seek to enact. He does not blame Mr. O'Mop personally; the man is barely older than Fernando and is serving his first term, so his personal input on policy decisions within his chosen political party is minimal. However, one who sleeps with dogs wakes up with fleas, and Fernando does not like having to break out the shampoo.

“I am well. However, those aren't my posters. I assume they belong to the gentleman who owns the vacant lot over there.” This vacant lot, by the way, is a scant bit larger than the one on which the Dominion rests. It lacks any sort of building or permanent fixture, yet the man who owns it values it at roughly triple the price of the plot of land on which the Dominion rests—this is including the building in the math. There is little mystery why this lot has remained vacant for over twenty years, ever since an old grocery store which had been there burned down.

“Oh, I see. Well, would you like a poster for in front of your store?”

“No thanks. It's not appropriate to involve my business in politics.”

“How about one for at home?”

“Apartment. Sorry.”

This does not faze the man. “Okay, well then. Have a nice day then!” He leaves and climbs back into his truck.

About thirty seconds later Fernando hears metallic clanging coming from outside. When Fernando exits his office and peers out his front door to investigate, he sees the well-groomed man and an associate in a blue t-shirt. The second man uses a hammer to pound stakes into the ground near the rather small Ted O'Mop sign. They then erect a larger sign, maybe four by three feet, to loom above it as a patriarch might loom over his brood of young and cast judgmental looks earthward.

It never ends.