Cold As Ice

Saladolsa's snowy season has, to this point, been one full of profound discomfort and chill. The temperature barely broke into the double digits most days and Fernando's large office windows were drafty portals to a frozen hellscape of blowing, gritty snow and patches of ice.

Fernando did what he could to keep the store clear of impediments to entry: he ventured outside to clear away the drifting snow and made sure to scatter salt over what his orange snow shovel could not remove.

One evening, the phone rings. "Hello, Dominion of Movies."

"Yeah, I wanted to let you know that we'll be keeping out the movies we got from you an extra night."

There is a pause just long enough that Fernando takes this as a cue to respond. "Alright, that's fine--" he begins, only to learn that he had inadvertently cut off the woman, one of Fernando's best customers.

"Our car just won't start," she continues.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Fernando says when he realizes what he'd done.

But the woman takes this to be an expression of remorse for her car troubles. "No, don't be. There's nothing you could do about it. We'll come in and pay the late fees tomorrow probably."

The jilted not-a-conversation continues with Fernando only now responding to her inoperative car woes. "That's fine. It's like two degrees out and I feel like you're not the only one. Don't worry about it."

"I'm sorry?" she asks, sounding confused.

"Wait what?" Fernando also asks, and assuredly confused.

"Maybe we should start over," the woman says.

"Probably." 

There is a pause of five or so seconds.

"Okay," she says with a nervous giggle. "Our car won't start, so we can't get back the movies we rented until tomorrow."

"That's fine," Fernando responds. "It's hateful outside and I don't blame your car for not starting. Don't worry about the late fees, since I wouldn't want to go out into this crap either."

"What, really?" she asks.

"Yes, really. Just don't let it spread that I'm not a heartless bastard."

She laughs. "You are the best. Thanks so much!"

"Welcome. Stay warm." Fernando hangs up, then looks around the thankfully empty store.

"The epitome of social class," he mutters, returning to his seat.

Priority

One of Fernando's regulars comes into the store one afternoon not long after opening and takes a quick look at the new release rack. "All your Wolverine is already out?" he asks, scowling.

"More like they haven't yet gotten in. I'm expecting all of them back today."

"Okay, how about this," Fernando's customer says. The Keeper hears the skritch of velcro as one of the other rental tags is torn off its case. "Hold this one for me and when the other comes in I'll come down and pick it up."

"That I certainly can do," Fernando says, taking the tag from the gentleman and placing it reverently on the desk in his office. "Did you want me to give you a call?"

"Nah, I'm gonna be running around for a little while anyhow. I'll stop by after I get gas at the station and see if you got it in."

Fernando nods. "Sounds good. If it gets in, I'll hang onto it for you. No promises, though."

And so Fernando's customer departs to complete his errands. A few minutes later a car pulls into the parking lot and a family of father, mother, and daughter clamber out. Fernando is fairly certain they owe him money, but not positive; he could not recall their names, since they had not visited the store in a rather long while, but verification would be swift and sure once he asked their indentity and he took a gander at the late list.

Anyhow, they fan out throughout the store and the two adults chat amongst themselves. Mainly they complain that all of Fernando's copies of Wolverine are out and they rather rudely, in that passive-aggressive not-a-whisper, point out that the Dominion "never has anything good in."

Ignoring or overlooking, of course, that if copies of the goddamn movies are present at opening from the night before without having been rented, the business model is doing something terribly wrong.

The daughter asks if they can rent something else but the mother (who is the one Fernando suspects of owing money) puts her foot down and tells the youngster that if the movies the grown-ups want isn't in, she "doesn't deserve" to rent Smurfs 2. At this moment, two more vehicles crunch over the snow in the parking lot simultaneously. One of them is the gentleman who had just been in. The other one is a truck owned by a man who had, on the previous day, come in and rented Wolverine. Fernando rises from his chair, scoops up the other tag which he had been asked to hold, and walks up to the counter to begin filling out a rental slip in anticipation of things to come.

Fernando's earlier visitor parked slightly closer to the front door, so he is the one inside first. "Did it make it?" he asks.

Fernando points over the man's shoulder at the second gent crossing the parking lot, who carries a stack of three movies. "He's got one, right there."

"Attaboy."

The mother, having deduced something potentially interesting albeit irrelevant to her own sad life is amiss, has since sidled closer to the counter to listen in on the conversation. The father and daughter are off in the kids' section of the store doing Pazuzu-knows-what.

The chimes tinkle and the second man enters. Fernando takes the films from him. "Thank you much." He sets two of them behind the counter and leaves the third, Wolverine. The second man squeezes past the mother, who lurks near the archway, with a low, "Excuse me," and browses the rental racks.

"Which ones did you bring back?" she asks him.

"Uh, The Thing, 2 Guns, and Wolverine," he answers.

Meanwhile, the transaction between Fernando and the first man has been completed. "Thank you much," Fernando says as the man walks out with his movies. "Have a good evening." He gathers up the rental slip and sets it on his desk, then goes about returning the rental tags for the other two movies to their cases out on the floor. He is peripherally aware of the woman approaching the counter.

"Yeah, I heard you got a Wolverine in." the woman tells Fernando.

Fernando briefly glances over at her. "I did, but it just went out again," he says, replacing the remaining cases on the shelf.

"I wanted that one."

"I'm sorry," Fernando tells her. "I am expecting my other copies back, if you would like me to hold one for you and let you know when it gets in."

"Why did you let that other guy just have it?"

Fernando blinks. "Because he asked nicely for me to hold a copy for him." He pauses, mulling over precisely how large a dick he wanted to be at this moment. He arrives at the conclusion "titanic." "And if I had put it out onto the floor, I would not have kept that promise."

The woman's mouth becomes a hard line and she fixes a death glare upon Fernando's uncaring self. The Keeper repeats his earlier offer, "Did you want me to hold one for you and give you a call if I get it in?"

"No," she hisses, sotto voce. "We're leaving."

"Alright. Have a good evening." With that, Fernando weaves through the rental racks to return the other two tags to their homes.

He ignores her so thoroughly that he does not even give a cursory glance over his shoulder when the door chimes jingle twice in rapid succession from the family's departure.

The second man rents three movies and has the social grace not to comment on what had just transpired.

We're the Necrotizing Fasciitis

A woman in her late 30s comes into the store one evening. She is a semi-regular customer and had not been to the store in a few months. Fernando greets her and she greets him back. Hell, she even goes beyond the bare minimum of social nicety to ask Fernando how he has been since she last saw him.

"I'm well. Keeping on keeping on, doing the best that I can," he answers. "Yourself?"

"I'm good. My daughter is having a slumber party tonight, so a bunch of her friends are over and they wanted me to pick out some movies for her. Do you have We're the Millers in?"

"Yeah, that's right over here," Fernando tells her, exiting the office to pluck one of the tags from the case. The front reads EXTENDED CUT in big yellow letters, and the woman notices this fact and is likely savvy enough to realize what it entails. She picks up the case and reads the back. Her expression sours and her eyes narrow as she scans the great large box on the back side which has the laundry list of reasons the movie is rated R.

"This is unrated?" she asks him with a slight frown.

"Profoundly so, yes," Fernando tells her. "It out-Hangovers The Hangover."

"Is it just raunchy humor?"

"That, and I feel like I would be remiss not to warn you about the spider bite scene."

"Why, what's so bad about it? It doesn't sound so bad."

"Well, the bite is on a penis."

Her expression wavers between confusion and bemusement. "That still doesn't sound--"

"They show the penis."

The woman stares at Fernando, blinks a few times, then quietly places the case back on the rack. "Let's not get that one, then. Probably not a good idea for twelve-year old girls to be seeing that."

"Probably not."

She scans the rack with a frustrated sigh. "There aren't any other good comedies in right now, either." She taps the case for Grown Ups 2 irately, for all copies of that film were leased out at that moment.

Fernando shrugs. "I can recommend Monsters University."

"Why, is it funny?"

"It has its moments. Mainly it's because it's a good movie. Great movie, in fact. Not quite as good as Monsters, Inc. but by no means does this render it low-quality. I'm old so I'm not allowed to like new things as much as their earlier iterations. It's a nine instead of a ten, is all."

"That sounds really good actually. I'll take it."

And that's how it's done.

The Future Is Then

A older gent comes into the store one Sunday afternoon. He's a visitor from downstate, one of the myriad hunters who heads north only during the time of year when the slaughter of delicious, delicious deer is condoned by The Powers That Be. He has stopped by the store every year for at least the past six, and Fernando had never had any issues with him, even though he is an entitled, hypocritical old guy who, for example, proudly informs Fernando that he steals his cable and internet from others in one breath while in the next complaining about “handouts to lazy people while hardworking folk like you and me get nothing”--this being White Person code for denigrating the coloreds, in case you didn't understand.

Anyhow, he stops by for the first time this year and makes small talk at Fernando about how he hacks into satellite relays and using this to get free access to DirecTV. Fernando nods and smiles because it is his job to nod and smile, and the man decides to rent a couple of movies and bring them up to the counter.

“You get a lot people who run off with your stuff?” he asks as Fernando fills out the slip.

Normally when people ask this or similar questions, Fernando has a tingling itch creep up his spine and he braces himself for a world of idiocy. He has no desire to share the status of his inventory with a man who only comes to the store maybe four or five times every year. The tingle of ire and snark swells, but the Keeper suppresses it. Instead, he replies, “It comes and goes. Nothing I can really do about it ahead of time if one day someone decides to wake up on the asshole side of the bed.”

Code Talker Santa chuckles, pays, and leaves.

The movies do not come back the following day, nor the day after. At this point Fernando digs through his records for the man's contact information. A local number had been provided, and Fernando tries that one first. No answer.

Fortunately, because the man is a vagrant visitor to the Dominion's environs, Fernando also took down the gent's cell number long long ago, and now as he punched in those ten digits he prayed to Hel that the number would remain in service. Fernando made a promise of burnt sacrifice to the Norse goddess when, after a few seconds which felt like eternities, he heard ringing.

On the fourth ring, someone picks up. “Hello?” It is a man's voice, but not the man whom Fernando sought.

“Hi, this is Fernando calling from the Dominion of Movies in Saladolsa. May I speak with Code Talker Santa?”

“Yeah, hang on.” A faint clunk as the phone is set down somewhere, then an echoey shout of, “SANTA! SOME GUY ON THE PHONE FOR YOU FROM A MOVIE PLACE!”

After a few more seconds, the phone is lifted and C.T.S. says, “Shit. I totally forgot to return those movies.”

“Indeed you did.”

“Well, I'm back home in Pakistani Creek right now.”

“If I may make a suggestion, perhaps you could mail the discs back. This isn't the first time I've had something like this happen.”

“Yeah, yeah I'll do that. Jesus Christ, and to think I was asking you about people who stole from you when I was just in there.”

“The coincidence is palpable,” Fernando says in a dry tone. “Anyhow, I just wanted to touch base with you on that. Thanks for mailing those out to me.” Fernando realizes that the mailing has not yet been done, but, by acting as if it already had, he hoped to exert psychological pressure on C.T.S. to complete the task before him, self-fulfilling prophecy-style.

“Sure thing. I'll square up with you next time I'm up there.”

“Excellent. Thanks again. Have a good day.”

“You too. Bye.”

Once the movies arrive, perhaps Fernando will post an appropriate UPDATE as he did when the lady no longer wanted to own A Single Man.

Suggestion

A strange man enters the store one bright afternoon. It is a Wednesday, and quite possibly he visits Saladolsa to attend the music festival which is slated to begin the following evening. “Hey, what's a good movie?”

Fernando provides the exact same sequence of words he always does when someone asks him that question without greater specificity. “Depends what you're looking for. Action, comedy, horror...?”

When Fernando trails off, it is meant as a rhetorical tool to encourage the listener to continue mulling through film genres and styles internally, to perhaps come to a conclusion which can then be shared with Fernando so that the Keeper can try to do his job by using his expertise to guide his customer to an appropriate title. When the man pauses the conversation, Fernando assumes he is mulling over things of that nature.

Instead, when he speaks again half a minute later, his tone is somewhat confrontational, dare Fernando say offended. “Is that seriously all that you got?”

Fernando had not planned on being a pedant and holding the man's intellectual hand any longer than necessary, but it seems he has no choice. Enter the snark. “No, I also have other genres available. Musicals, dramas, westerns, kids and--”

The man interjects, “Okay, I get it.”

“--family films, sci-fi, war, oh, okay, good.” Fernando stows away his staff of snide words and retrieves his carrot. “Good is incredibly subjective. I don't want to recommend, say, Last Exorcism 2 if you think exorcism flicks are a waste of your time and money. If I did that, you would be less likely to take to heart anything I suggest later, because I'd been wrong before. So, what do you like to watch, and we'll go from there.”

The man mentions Taken and Taken 2 as movies he'd recently seen which he really enjoys, so Fernando points out the existence of Snitch with Dwayne “No Longer The Rock” Johnson. The man reads the back of the case and it seems good enough, for he selects the tag and brings it to the counter.

He doesn't even throw a conniption over setting up the account, and the movie is in the drop box when Fernando arrives at the store the following morning.

Spiraling Into Oblivion

A pair of new customers, male and female, set up an account. They come in on a near-daily basis over the next week and a half and Fernando has no problems at all with them.

They rent Premium Rush one afternoon. After Fernando picks it out of the drop box once he arrives at the store the next day and inspects it cursorily, its underside resembles the finished product of someone with minimal spatial or mathematical awareness trying to graph a Fibbonaci sequence. Concentric arcs of the disc's plastic have been channeled away in deep, smooth gouges. Fernando grimaces. Why can't people ever carve the summoning circles for their infernal patrons into their own property?

Fernando digs through his records for the duo's number and calls them up.

-Ring ring ring-

“Hello?” It is the male half of the love equation.

“Yeah, hi, this is Fernando from the Dominion of Movies. I'm calling about Premium Rush.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I was gonna talk to you about this next time we came in.”

“Yeah, the disc is pretty bad off. I'm afraid I have to levy a replacement fee.”

“That's fine. We shouldn't have let our buddy borrow it.”

What in Cocytus? “Alrighty, I just wanted to touch base with you. We can take care of that whenever you guys are in next.”

“Cool. Thanks, man.”

“Thank you,” says Fernando, and hangs up.

They come in two days later to pay off the debit on their account in full and to rent again.

Huh.

A Matter of Perspective

The July 4^th weekend and its various exhibitions of jingoistic fervor have come underway, and this brings a surprising number of outsiders through the area. Some are sad and accursed souls who are forced to seek lodging in the area when the sun goes down and the kamikaze deer begin their migrations. Others are a peculiar stripe of masochist which seeks out the lands and celebrations around Saladolsa for amusement and camping.

A white truck pulls into the Dominion's parking lot one day. A man who looks to be in his fifties and a slightly younger woman, probably his wife, clamber out and cross the burning wasteland of asphalt to seek refuge inside the store's air conditioned walls.

“Hey, if we're not from the area, will you rent to us?” asks the man in a raspy voice.

“If you've got a local place at which you're staying and are willing to fill out a member application, absolutely.”

“Well, all I got for my local credentials is this, if that's good enough for you.” The man pulls out a folded sheet of paper from his pants pocket and places it on the countertop. Feranando rises and takes a look at it.

A cursory inspection reveals that the paper is essentially a hall pass which has been given by the man's probation officer which has writ upon it an address for a campground in Norbert, which lies ten or so miles beyond Zail-Kanzin.

“I'll just need to see your driver's license, but this is good enough for me,” Fernando tells him. The man produces the license, Fernando completes the appropriate paperwork and gives his memorized rundown of how the store operates, and the man and his wife select two movies to take home for the evening.

Why rent to the dude? Four reasons. The out-of-state jackasses who Fernando has encountered before do not have any bearing on the quality of character of any other out-of-state person, and why be a stereotypical close-minded small town jerk upon such shoddy reasoning? A guy who is umbilically linked to a probation officer will not do anything irrational like jeopardizing his status by running off with some rental movies, and Fernando would be guaranteed a positive resolution because the legal system already has its eyes on our hypothetical sneak-thief. The man was up-front and unapologetic about the probationary swamp miring him and willing to place responsibility for adjudging his character upon Fernando without simpering pretense or facile apology.

Finally, Fernando likes to make money, and that doesn't happen by arbitrarily turning away customers. He rents to other lawbreakers all the time.

Cold Sell

It's one of those demonically hot and muggy days which fill late June. Fernando sits in his comfortable palace and a group of three teens, two guys and a gal, come in. The two dudes are brothers; the girl is presumably an acquaintance of some sort to one of the two.

They drop off some movies they'd rented the previous day and mill about the store in search of more. “It's too hot outside to do anything.”

“Oh, I hear you. That's why I'm sitting in here not doing anything.”

“Yeah, it's nice in here. I think on the way home we'll pick up something to help cool off.”

Ah, yes. Magic words. Fernando latches onto them like an asp to its prey. “Well, I do have delicious and refreshing sodey pop here. Only a dollar fifty with deposit.”

The young man is resistant. “Oh, I don't know....”

Fernando dials up the pressure. “You could head over to Lint's Gas and pick up some there, I suppose, but paying a dollar thirty for twenty ounces? Unreasonable. I've got the big ones here.”

“Well, actually I was thinking getting some ice cream or something.”

“Y'know, ice cream is a really good idea. But you know what would be an even better idea? Ice cream with sodey pop.”

The leader hems and haws, but his brother and the young lady are both eying Fernando's sodey pop fridge. Fernando leans over the counter and pops the door open with his right hand, letting the refrigerated air within mingle with the warmer atmosphere outside the icebox. He spreads the palm and fingers of his left hand in a “what-can-you-do” gesture. “At least that's what I would do if I had ice cream in my future.”

The younger brother takes a step forward, then catches himself. The older brother says, “Ehhh, no, sorry, I think we'll pass.”

Fernando eases the door shut. He has done all that he can do. “Well, alrighty. They're here if ever you want them, though.” The trio collects their movies and departs.

Three minutes later, Fernando is having an in-depth discussion about the quality of film sequels with another customer who'd paid Fernando a visit. The chimes jingle and the three teens from before enter, walk straight up to Fernando's sodey pop fridge, help themselves to some of its contents, and queue up while Fernando finishes his Spiel.

In an appropriate parlance:

“You try smooth talking him with all your cunning [roll d20] but sadly fail to convince him.”

“Did you add in my Charisma bonus?”

“....You almost fail to convince him.”

Cool Old Guy

An older gentlemen started visiting the Dominion about a year ago on a weekly basis. He is the affable and awesome sort of old chap, a dude in his late 70s who possesses boundless mirth, sharp wit, and excellent stories which Fernando found just marvelous to hear. Fernando has no idea where this guy came from and why he'd never stopped by the store before that point, but that's all beside the point. Cool Old Guy was here to stay, and Fernando was more than fine with that.

This is a man who'd served in the Korean War, one who traveled overseas to places as disparate as Thailand, Norway, and the Mayan ruins at Chichen Itza; he attended Michigan State University back when it was still called Michigan State College of Agriculture and Applied Sciences. He married his college sweetheart and worked, over the years, as a civic engineer, a shipbuilder, and a woodworker. He collects fossils and has an irrepressible curiosity for the sciences, and also more “realistic” science-fiction literature and movies (“Way I see it, I'll never get off this rock, so it'll always be fictional to me personally.”).

His speech is not filthy or vulgar, simply factual. He does not shy away from topics which might be considered in bad taste or embarrassing. He told Fernando about his collection of Playboy magazines, which go all the way back to issue #1 (“And they're all still perfectly readable, though not even God could tell you how some of those pages still turn,” he said). They have had frank and not pants-on-head stupid conversations about American politics and normative political and social philosophy, something which never fucking happens.

Cool Old Guy spoke smatterings of no fewer than seven languages in his heyday: English, Japanese, Korean, Russian, German, Spanish, and Latin, though anything not named English is limited to curse words and naughty names for body parts these days. He did not just learn rote phrases to get by on a daily basis, but delved into the underlying grammar and structure of the languages he knew. His worldliness imparted upon him awareness that different cultures parse the world in different ways and that those differences are communicated through idiom and metaphor. He recognized that, though he could once speak Japanese or Latin, perhaps get by or even thrive in places that used those languages, he was not and could never “be” Japanese or Latin. He also loves witty turns of language, subtle puns and jokes which play with the words used in the jokes' construction instead of grandiose and hilarious observational humor in the vein of Patton Oswalt or Louis C.K.

Of course, they also discussed movies. Aside from his love of science-fiction. Cool Old Guy adores comedy, and is far more open to what falls under the potentially “good” umbrella than Fernando. He'll give anything a fair shake, even if it or they later turned out to be stinkers.

One afternoon, Cool Old Guy had just picked up a stack of five movies (one should also mention this man never returns anything late; instead he pays ahead for multiple nights) and is preparing to finalize his transaction when he suddenly says to Fernando, “You know, Gandhi was a really remarkable man.”

“Oh?” Fernando says. Perhaps Cool Old Guy had an amusing anecdote or observation involving the revered Indian activist and statesman.

“Well, he spent his entire life walking barefoot, not wearing sandals or shoes, so the soles of his feet became like leather. He wouldn't eat meat and lived entirely on eating greens...of course this left him kind of spindly and when you eat nothing but veggies your breath leaves a lot to be desired, but he did it because he held fast to his spiritual beliefs.”

The briefest of pauses, then: “I guess you could say he was a super-calloused, fragile mystic hexed with halitosis.”

Fernando blinks once, then twice more. “Oh. My.” More blinks. “Oh my.”

IDGAF if the pun has been around for ages and Cool Old Guy heard it somewhere else. It's the first Fernando had heard of it, and it made his fucking day.

Invitation to Disaster

 “Hey, do you want to come to my graduation party?” a young lady asks of the Keeper one day as Fernando fills out a rental slip for her. She is one of Fernando's most regular of regular customers. “I would have sent you an invite but, um....” She looks down at the floor. “I actually don't know your name. You're just kind of the movie store guy to me.”

Fernando shrugs and laughs. “Happens a lot, actually. 'Movie Store Guy' is apt enough, considering names probably started as labels based on what people did way back in the olden days before electricity and indoor plumbing.” He scratches his cheek. “When it is? I can't guarantee I'll be able to go, I'm afraid. Work kind of gets in the way of most things.”

“It'll be June 7^th.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, I definitely can't go then. I have a wedding to attend over that weekend.”

“You're getting married?” she asks, studying Fernando with no small amount of surprise. “I didn't even know you were engaged.”

“Well that would be one hell of a surprise if I were. No, I misspoke. Actually I'm standing in a wedding for my best bud. Thank you for the invitation, though.”

“It's okay! You going to get somebody else to run the store then?”

“Nah, I'll shut it down. It ain't gonna be no thing.”

Fernando's guest giggles, pays for her movies, and leaves.

Shovelware

Fernando is enjoying himself one evening. He'd dug out his DVDs of The It Crowd earlier in the day and had spent it in a cozy bubble of proper nerdish mirth and awkwardness. That program (or perhaps “programme”) has a great many important life lessons to impart upon the ignorant who seek enlightenment.

A lady enters the store with three kids in tow, between the ages of three and six. Fernando pauses the DVD and greets her. She reciprocates and then turns to her children. “You kids stay right here by me, okay?” She leads them into the Dominion's main aisle and begins to browse the new releases.

Valiant effort, Mom. All for naught, but props are given when deserved. She did her damndest to adhere to Fernando's sign, and for this he cannot fault her.

For her children do the exact opposite of obeying her commands. They promptly evade her grasp and split up into three unbridled mini-cyclones of destruction determined to rearrange the shelves. They giggle and cavort and sow despair within the Dominion's walls. The mother tries reigning in the loin-beasts, but she only possesses two arms and so one member of the fell triumvirate is always able to roam freely.

When at last she herds the trio of children into the Dominion's foyer, she commands them to remain there. “Don't touch anything!” she says. She gives Fernando a sheepish look. “I'm so sorry.”

Fernando shrugs. “Kids happen.”

The lady returns to her browsing. The kids stay in place for a blissful fifteen seconds before one of them has come across a new toy.

Fernando has a very nice, ergonomic, bright orange plastic snow shovel which he inherited along with the rest of the Dominion when he became Keeper. In winter, he leans it on wall separating the office from the entry foyer, between his New Releases whiteboard and the switch controlling the Dominion's interior lighting.

Whunngg goes the shovel's plastic scoop against the wood of Fernando's sales rack. One of the kids squeals and shortly thereafter a second fff-whunngg fills the store. The sound is not one which has much power behind it, but it portended foul misdeeds.

Fernando rises from his seat and walks over to the counter. At the same time, the mother has dropped the case she was reading directly to the floor and bolts into the foyer. She snatches the shovel away from two of her three offspring and leans it against the wall. “Okay, we're leaving now!” she says, gathering her brood and forcing them into the chilly outdoors, whereupon she packs them into her minivan and drives away.

Fernando walks out into the main aisle and replaces Taken 2 in its rightful place. He wanders the rest of the store and rights the wrongs he encounters. He then inspects his foyer. His bag of salt had been tipped over and a small dusting of crystals were mounded around the opening at the bag's top. He rights the bag, sweeps up the spilled salt, and nods.

Then he reenters his office and resumes his journey to a more mirthful place.

Dialectical Conversationism

It is a weekday like most any other. Fernando has just emerged from the sanctity of his back room with the object that is to be his evening meal. He returns to the office and is about to dig in when a car pulls up and the chimes above the door jingle.

The man who enters sniffs loudly. “Jeez, Fernie, ya tryn'ta get ridda vampirer sumthin'?” This gent, a reliable customer who nevertheless only comes into the store on a bimonthly, at best, basis, is one who speaks quite the dialect of English, one relatively uncommon in the Saladolsa area (by dint of its comparative urbanity), but widespread in the fell hinterland reaches which lay outside the reach of twenty-first century civilization and about an hour's drive away from any major highways.

“No, just some pizza.”

“Lotta garlic onnair.”

“What can I say? I like garlic. How's things?”

“Pretty good. Drivin' truck. Keepin' busy?”

Fernando looks over his shoulder at his computer monitor. The Dwarf Fortress wiki glares back. “Busy enough.”

The gent steps into the store proper, workboots clomping. “What's a goodun?”

“Depends what you're looking for I guess. What're you in the mood for?”

The man, whom we'll call Finland, scratches a stubbly cheek. “Think comedy. Only got time for one cuz I gotta haulina morning.”

“Have you seen Ted? That's pretty widely regarded as worth a watch.”

“I seen it. What's thissun here, Dredd?”

“That's the remake to Judge Dredd, the one from the '90s with Stallone. Haven't had a chance to see it yet, but I've heard it's surprisingly good. Not really a comedy, though.”

“'Sall the same though, ainit? Can't have a movie what's just the thing what it'spossedta, gotta put in crap what don't matter.”

While the words used to express it are a mite dubious in quality, Fernando agrees wholeheartedly with the message they hamfistedly convey. “Yeah, yeah, that's true.”

“Fuck it, I'll giv'er.” Finland yanks the tag to Dredd off the rental case and brings it to the counter. “Don't owe ya nothin' from last time, right?”

Fernando pauses in his frantic scribbling. “Nope, you're good.”

“'Kay.” As Ferando finishes up his side of the transaction, Finland peruses the sales rack. “Y'still got Final Destination up here?” he asks. Once upon a time, in a fit of impeccable foresight, Fernando ordered three copies of Final Destination 5. Not only did the movie rent for shit, but he couldn't move the used copies for the life of him. Not copy, copies. All three of them still linger within the Dominion's walls, mocking Fernando's wretched past judgment.

“Unfortunately. You want it?”

Finland shakes his head. “Naw. Save it for somebody else. We square?”

“Indeed so. Have a good evening.”

“Yep. Enjoy yer pizza.” Finland steps outside and returns to his vehicle.

Fernando toasts Finland with the homemade slice of heaven as he walks by.

Recursive Marketing

A pair of young ladies enter the store one evening. One of them drops off some movies she'd rented the day before and the two of them fan out into the store to peruse Fernando's wares. They select four tags and bring them up to the counter.

It being part of Fernando's job to engage in merry banter with his customers, he does precisely that with them. The topics include Fernando's age and how he looks “about forty,” and how the Ice Age movies might be best served by stopping to make more of them before they suffer the fate of Land Before Time. In the midst of this conversation, one of the girls peers into the office and asks, “What paper are you writing back there?”

“Paper?” Fernando looks over his shoulder at his monitor, where Open Office is up for all the world to see and his Chronicles are spread over the LCD screen. He was putting finishing touches on another of his tales when the girls entered. “I haven't written a paper in like a decade.”

After it dawns that his answer is enough of a stretch as to constitute an outright lie, Fernando amends his response, “Okay, maybe six years. Since I graduated from college, anyway.”

“Oh, so what is it then?” she asks. “I'm sorry, I'm just nosy.”

“Oh, it's nothing. Just a thing for my weblog.”

“You have a weblog? What's it about?”

“The crazy things I experience on a frequent basis. You wouldn't believe some of the people I deal with.”

“You should give me the address so I can check it out. Maybe I'll get a couple laughs out of it.”

“More than a couple, I hope,” Fernando answers as he jots down the website for her. “I like to believe I'm wittier than that. That said, not all of the stories are bad ones.”

The second girl chimes in at this point. “Do you have many video games here for newer systems?”

“Uh...just some stuff for the X360. Nothing too new.”

“Do you have Dirt or Skate?”

“W-what? Are...are those drugs?”

The girls look at Fernando, who looks at the girls. Then the second girl breaks out in laughter. “They're games! Oh my god, 'Are they drugs?'”

“Okay, you know how I just said that not all the stories are bad ones? Stuff like this, where I look dumb, these get put up too.”

So cheers, ladies!

Transmitido en Español

Fernando has just returned from his back room and is about to begin eating his dinner. A vehicle pulls in. This irks Fernando, for he very much does not like being watched when he eats and he feels rather peckish at the moment, and with his luck the people who pulled in will dick around the store for half an hour and leave Fernando's meal sublimely tepid and in need of a re-microwaving.

The chimes jingle and a small army of six people enter. Their ages range from 20-something to eight or so. Five are male, with one female around the age of 10 or so. Strangers one and all, wearing camouflage overcoats and hats, Fernando is not made enthused by their presence.

The oldest among them speaks. “Hola. ¿Cómo estás?” One of the other boys, teenaged by the looks of him, chortles.

“Bien, pero no sé por qué usó la palabra 'estás.' Yo no conozco ustedes, y ustedes me no conocen. ¡Pero bienvenido a la País de Video!”

Utter silence. The young man who addressed Fernando in the Latinate devil tongue looks at our hero in dumbfounded awe. Chortles McChortle's mouth has dropped open.

Fernando looks around at these strange people. Life had taken a less wearisome turn, it seems, for there was trollish fuckery to be doled out. “¿Que pasó?” he asks.

“Holy shit, I didn't expect you to actually answer, man,” says the twenty-something guy.

“¿Por qué no?” Fernando asks, using what he recalls from Spanish 202: Intermediate Spanish II to the utmost. The last time he had utilized Spanish to any meaningful degree was when he visited Italy during his study abroad, back in the olden days before Fernando had real adult responsibilities. There is a great and amusing anecdote involving the biggest bitch Fernando has ever encountered wrapped up in his travels to and from Naples and Pompeii, one which he shall perhaps share with the world at some juncture. As for now, all that needs to be said is that Fernando's amateur Spanish served as an incredibly useful supplement to his infantile Italian among the older people with whom he dealt. For comparison, the zenith of his Italic mastery is represented by the time he bravely changed around a few words in the timeless query “Where is the bathroom?” when he asked a young woman in Pompeii, “Dov'é l'scava?”

The nice lady answered him in English, bless her heart forever.

Leaving behind that overlong anecdote, the twenty-something then asks Fernando, “Um, what do we need to set up an account here?”

Fernando responds to this in English, mostly because he doesn't know the Spanish words off the top of his head. “I need you to fill one of these out,” he says, pulling out a membership application. “And I'll need to see your driver's license.”

The guy does not put up any argument, perhaps because he remains intimidated by Fernando's facility with tongues. By this time, the rest of his crew had spread out into the store, browsing to their hearts' content. They select a couple of older-ish movies (Straw Dogs and Just Go With It) and bring the tags up to the counter. Twenty-Something, whose name, Fernando learned, was Benin, has filled out the application to Fernando's satisfaction and listened attentively as the Keeper shared with him the rules which governed the lease of the Dominion's inventory.

The rental slip was completed, money exchanged hands, and the six strangers left the store slightly less stranger-some than when they had entered.

“¡Hasta luego!” Fernando shouts to them as they depart.

Despite the fact that these six seemed to be itinerant slayers of deer, they returned Fernando's movies on time. Small victories.

Restructuring

Hello. I am Nicolai Dobokov, taking over for Fernando Stevens. He is tied up at moment, secured in chair for own safety. Suffered nasty head blow. Am here as spokesman from Domain of Films to talk about recent restructuring done on thirty-first October.

Night before, on thirtieth, Nicolai, Vladimir, and Boris come into store late at night to rearrange aisles, create caves for children's movies and horror to better corral any capitalists if time comes to remove them. Other aisles rotated and spaced apart to make hourglass floorplan instead of previous aisles. Labor takes maybe forty minutes. Many husks of Defense Arachnids fall from between old shelves where could not be reached by Fernando.

Sleep happens, morning comes. Nicolai puts on fancy three-piece suit, adjusts tie, goes out into world to set things up. Heads on social media outlets to announce changes at Domain of Films but not too many changes. Also makes note that trick treats can be had for boy and girl American children and big pot of beef stroganoff has been prepared for adults.

Resnov arrives not long before opening, helps Nicolai put on finishing touches to grand reopening. Has stroganoff, says it is delicious. Of course it is delicious. Nicolai made it.

First customer of day is man returning movies rented night before. He enters Domain and Nicolai says, “Привет!”

Man looks at improved layout of store, looks at Nicolai, places movies on countertop and leaves. Does not even make chance for offer to eat stroganoff.

Little while later, phone rings. Nicolai looks at call identification, sees is woman customer in Fernando's logs. He picks up phone. “Hello?”

Woman hangs up. Okay.

Next person does not come in until after Resnov must leave for other obligation. Is affable older gentleman which Fernando reveals during question has told him stories of time in Korean Peninsula. Nicolai greets him same way as first man.

Second gentleman looks at Nicolai with surprise, then says, “Well howdy howdy. You're looking sharp today!”

“Am always sharp. Is job to look sharp. I am Nicolai Dobokov, managing supervisor of Domain of Films.” Nicolai extends hand and the two men shake.

“Managing supervisor, huh? Who are you managing for?”

“Elite organization. You are here for renting of movies?”

“Oh, you bet! Do you still have two-for-one today?”

“Is good plan from old owner, no need to terminate. Good way to retain custom.”

“Well, alright!” The old man goes out onto floor, searches through new labyrinth of shelves. Finds movie SuckerPunch. “This one looks racy.”

“Is not what cover shows. Not really, anyway. Actually has plot deeper than shallow pool.”

“The cover makes me think it's a bunch of fourteen year old girls bouncing around in schoolgirl outfits.”

“нет, is not so. You are thinking of different sort of films produced by Motherland. Are trying to crack down on distribution of those. Have standards in our work.”

Man rents that movie and three others. As Nicolai fills out rental slip, man lifts lid of crock pot full of stroganoff. “This smells delicious.”

“Is beef stroganoff. Help yourself if you like. Is what's there for.”

“Don't mind if I do!” The man fills small styrofoam bowl and takes bite with plastic fork. His face twists in ecstasy. “Oh my!”

“Is good?”

“Can I take a bowl of this home to my wife? She has to try this.”

“Absolutely. Can provide bags for you to try keep from spilling. Here, I tape second bowl over first too.”

Man leaves and things are happy. Then trick treat time starts and group of four adolescent American children come into store.

“Trick or treat!” they say all as one. They make double-take when they see Nicolai standing behind the counter, looking resplendent.

“I see good costumes. You are having candies? Take two, if like!”

“Wow, thanks!” They scrabble through Skittles and Milky Ways and Paydays. One young man notices pot of stroganoff. “What's that?”

“Beef stroganoff. Is delicious. You want some?”

He looks at pot longingly. “I'd like to, but my mom would kill me if she found out I ate strange food.” Boy in question is fourteen or fifteen years old. When interrogated in back room later, Fernando says he totally forgot that children in America are discouraged from eating unpackaged food during Halloween. In Russia, trick treats are bottles of vodka and if child dies from mercury poison, is God's work. Nicolai does not know this cultural difference. Fernando allowed to keep toenails as result of cooperation.

“Is sad times. How sneak razor blades into stroganoff? Would be obvious! Poison also bad idea because do not get return customers that way!”

Four young Americans laugh and leave. As they go, one girl in group says to other girl, “That guy is awesome!”

Да. Is truth.

More trick treaters come into store as time passes. Most of them look upon Nicolai with mixed awe and happiness, for they find accent endearing and stroganoff delicious. Group of three boys come in for trick treats dressed as Batmen and Jokers. One says to Nicolai, “Hey, can we rent all the Batman movies for free?”

“Hmm. Is worth considering. Let me think for moment on this. Meanwhile, have candy or stroganoff.” They do and more culinary joy is spread through Nicolai's cooking.

“This shit is amazing,” says Joker-boy.

“Thank you. Is nothing much.”

“How did you get it to taste so good?”

“Practice and skill. Nicolai has many talents. You need man killed? Am not so good at this, but can send word to Vladimir or Resnov. Payment is reasonable, satisfaction guaranteed.”

The three share uneasy look. “Um...we'll think about it.”

“Good. Should still be here when you decide.”

While this happens, Nicolai goes on social networking site now and again to post updates on glorious revolution at Domain of Film. Woman comments on one update with words of surprise: “What???? Who owns them now!?”

Nicolai responds in similar way as with older man from before. Other people who are fans of old Dominion comment as well. One girl by name of Luisa asks questions of Nicolai which are awkward for him to answer. He cannot say too much, else will experience question and answer session like Fernando in back room.

Other girl named Adonia expresses concern that customer base will find Domain of Films hard to remember if place called Dominion of Movies so long. Nicolai responds that conversion is simple, like sensible metric system instead of capitalist Imperial clusterfuck. Dominion of Movies becomes Domain of Films. If other group like Italian mafia or yakuza come in sometime, will probably rename place Realm of Videos.

Short while later, first woman from before responds again. Nicolai is not sure if serious because she claims to have known back-room Fernando “very well” and threatens Nicolai with “ppl” that she knows, then says Nicolai is unwelcome in town. Is very bad spelling and grammar. English Nicolai's second language, but what is woman's excuse? Nicolai does not understand this hostility! And why cannot civility happen? Civility more profitable than murder most times. Cannot make deals with dead men, only mail body parts to immediate family for intimidation factor. Also, Nicolai goes through Fernando's logs, learns that woman who claims to be best friends with man in back room has never been to store. Bizarre.

Close to end of night, two pretty girls come into Domain. Are wearing workout clothes like have just come from gym. Nicolai greets them in proper Russian way and they look at him and make mad giggle sounds. “Oh my god,” says one of them. “You're for real?”

“Am not imaginary, and have not drunk enough vodak for you to be imaginary either. Can help you find something?”

“Um...do you have The Hunger Games in?”

“Certainly. Have heard stories played of hunger games before. Good comrade once sent to gulag and forced to survive harsh Siberian winter eating twig-and-snowmelt stew cooked on cooling bodies of people who died night before. Came back changed man.”

Girls look at each other. Taller one of pair covers her mouth with hand and gasps, “Oh my god, you're amazing.”

“No, am Orthodox. You speak truth otherwise though. Would offer you stroganoff, but all eaten earlier. Is sad, because was very good.”

Tall girl laughs. “You should totally do this every day.”

These words confuse Nicolai no small bit. “I do. Is not like I am different person day to day. Have had discipline beaten into me with rusted iron rod since age of two. Sent out to woodshed once when four. Smart enough not to need second time there. Howling of wolf and bones from last child there taught me.”

Nicolai lets girls also take some trick treat candy. Are dressed up as people coming home from gym after all.

At closing time, Nicolai shuts blinds and locks door, then goes into back room to write this report to send to Motherland about feasibility of keeping grip on store. Hopefully will hear back soon.

До свидания!

Felis, Chiroptera, Video

A woman enters the Dominion one afternoon in early October. She immediately comes up to the counter. “Do you have that movie with Catwoman in it?”

“Which one?” Fernando replies. “The Dark Knight Rises isn't set to come out for a while yet, so I'm afraid I've only got Batman Returns and Catwoman with Halle Berry.”

“Either one of those will do. I'm dressing up as her for Halloween and I want to make sure I get the costume right.”

Hmm. Though the internet exists and there are a great overabundance of stills from assorted movies, cosplays, and so forth of assorted women portraying Catwoman, Fernando does not mention this source of answers to his customer, not yet. “Well, they have different costumes in each of them,” Fernando says. “It's a pity I don't have any of the old Adam West Batman here so you could see how they costumed Julie Newmar's Catwoman as well.”

“You have the other ones, though?”

“Absolutely.” Fernando rises and retrieves the two movies for the woman. He feels momentarily guilty that he is subjecting another living human being to Catwoman, but he shoves this ill-advised empathy away.

The transaction goes through without issue. “Thanks a lot,” she tells Fernando when she gathers her movies together. “I hope this will be good enough to show me how to do it.”

Now Fernando can be the good guy and impart upon her the boundless knowledge of the electronic sphere. “Well, if it isn't, you can always search online for ideas and maybe even, uh, fabric-cut out-guide-things.”

“Patterns?”

“Yep, that's probably the word I'm looking for, thanks. Catwoman's a fairly popular sort for ladies to cosplay as.”

“Oh, cool. Thanks for mentioning that, I never would have thought of it otherwise!”

“My pleasure. Best of luck in your costume endeavors.”

Whether these investigative efforts will have yielded fruit is a revelation only the future holds.

Yellow Exclamation Mark

Three travelers enter the Dominion one afternoon. Fernando recognizes the two ladies, for they have showered him with wealth and in exchange Fernando serviced them with mystic discs. They descend not far into the Dominion's depths, for they quickly find what they seek and approach Fernando on his throne, hoping to strike a bargain.

As Fernando rises and drafts a pact binding their eternal souls to him, one of the women asks, “Can you tell us where to find Portugal Falls?”

Fernando closes his eyes, mentally going through his available wares in search of this particular incantation. “I don't think I have that one here. I've actually never heard of it.”

“Yeah, neither have we.”

What sort of man or woman seeks knowledge without awareness of which knowledge they seek? “Then...?”

“We're trying to find it,” the second woman says. “We thought you might know since you know like everything.”

Fernando has never heard of this spell, and informs them of this fact. However, he returns to the area near his throne and prepares a scrying pane, to uncover the truth of the matter. “How is it spelled? Like it sounds?” Proper lettering is indeed helpful in plumbing the depths of the Otherworld for those kernels of knowledge which lingered in places even gods did not tread.

“Oh, it's not a movie,” says the first woman.

Fernando pauses. “It's not?”

“No. It's an actual waterfall.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Fernando shrugs. That it is a part of the realm over which the Dominion exerts no control is of no consequence to him! “Alright. That makes this even easier.”

“What?”

“Well, you came seeking guidance and far be it for me to deny such guidance to those who visit the Oracle of the Dominion of Movies. Just allow me to consult with the mystic spirits and provide the answers you seek.” Fernando's hands trace subtle gestures as he makes his epic pronouncement, binding Goo-Gol as his servant, but this is not enough. No, he coerces this daemon of knowledge to imprint specific directions upon a scroll, so that his visitors might have a permanent record to follow.

His visitors chuckle at Fernando's words, but they remain blissfully unaware of the power he effortlessly wields.

Once Goo-Gol has given Fernando what he needs, he dismisses it and gives the scroll graven with eldritch instructions over to his guests. “It is dangerous to go alone. Take this.”

“Oh, cool!” the first woman says. She takes the yellowed paper and looks it over. “This helps a lot. Thanks!”

“It was a small matter. The strictures of my alignment are such that I am encouraged to assist all who enter this place in search of knowledge.”

“Wait what?” asks the second woman.

“Don't worry. Go, now! Complete this journey that you might grow in experience! Return at a later date and inform me how it went!”

“Okay, we will. Thanks again!”

They depart on their quest, and Fernando returns to brood upon his throne until the next visitor comes calling.