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.

Limitations

One of Fernando's acquaintances, Narcisa, enters the store one afternoon. He had not seen her in many a month, for she had been quite busy juggling her numerous life-happenings including college graduations, work, and raising children. The first thing she says to him after he emerges from his back room with a fresh cup of coffee is, “Never have kids, Fern.”

Fernando sips at his cup of molten sex. “I actually don't think I can, unless they've refined a surgery to let me.”

“Oh, Fern, I didn't know. I'm really sorry to hear that.”

Fernando stands still for a moment, puzzling through her response, as it took him off-guard. Then comprehension bloomed. “What...? No, no, I'm not saying I'm sterile, I'm saying I lack a uterus.”

“Oh, duh,” Narcisa says. “You can tell I don't get most jokes.”

“In all fairness and honesty, it wasn't much of a joke to begin with.”

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!

Suit Night

One day in September Cortez, Ronaldo, Teodor, and Alfonso got it in their heads that they should spiff up the weekend D&D session. They got out fancy pants and suit jackets and ties and wore such attire out into the world. When they arrived at the Dominion for pregaming, they sauntered in like nobody's business, making a beeline for Fernando's forbidden back room.

Naturally, the customers in the store at that time asked a great many questions of Fernando, mostly in the vein of, “Why did four men in immaculate suits just enter your store like they owned the place?”

Fernando, ever caddy, responded, “Uh, um....”

“Are you okay?”

This question of concern fostered an idea in Fernando's mind, a fine way to pass the time and make excellent use of an upcoming occasion. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I know those guys.”

This puerile reassurance seemed to be enough, for the questions ceased and the transactions completed with no further ado. D&D time arrived, bones were rolled, and afterwards Fernando said to Ronaldo, Cortez, and Alfonso (for Teodor had to return home with utmost haste), “So, I have a plan.”

Fernando would remain the “face” of this operation, but it remained important for his companions to assist him in fostering its verisimilitude, a task with which they all agreed. Fernando undertook a great campaign through the social media outlets to which the Dominion was attached, dropping hints as to the nature of this great plan. He procured material components for this masterwork spell he planned to weave and practiced the verbal aspects as well. Everything progressed as desired, and the day draws nigh.

The plan is to unfurl on the final day of the month of October. The face of the Dominion would not be the same.

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.

Solace in a Bottle

Fernando fancies himself something of an amateur culinary artist. He prepares his own meals and, when the mood strikes him, prepares his own beverages. These are usually not too terribly complicated because Fernando lacks the time or interest to craft intricate comestibles, but the ones he can make have gotten rave reviews.

Fernando decided to make some ginger ale from scratch one day and was about to sample the fruits of his labors at the Dominion. Fernando has little personal need for a wide variety of kitchenware and so his drinkware consists of a plastic water bottle and a mug for tea and coffee. Since he did not want yeasty sediment taking up residence in his water bottle nor the ginger ale to taste like the inside of his well-used mug, he filled one of the red, disposable plastic cups which were used to divide up drinks at gatherings in his back room. You know, the ones that are stereotypical frat party booze holders.

As he does this important work, he hears the chimes above the door jingle. Fernando exits out of the back room. “Hello,” he greets the customer, a young lady who is slightly taller than he is. She has already made her selection and waits patiently at the counter.

“Hi!” she answers. Fernando returns to his customary place behind the counter and sets his drink down atop it, where he hopes it cannot easily be spilled. “What do you have there?” she asks as he grabs a rental slip and starts filling it out.

“This?” Fernando taps the butt of his pen against the cup. “Ginger ale.”

She leans forward and peers at the cup's contents. “It doesn't look like any ginger ale I've ever seen.”

“Yeah, it's unfiltered.” Fernando picks up and swirls the cup. All the yeast and ginger bits swim about in their liquid home. “Though I should probably call it ginger beer since I fermented it for a couple of days, and I guess ginger ale is just carbonated water with ginger flavor added to it.”

The young lady smirks at Fernando. “So you're drinking on the job?”

“Technically. I'd have to drink gallons of this stuff before I felt anything resembling a buzz, though.”

“Ooooh, that's probably against the rules.”

“Actually, the boss is pretty okay with it. I bribe him with nice things and he usually lets me get away with all kinds of stuff here.”

The lady laughs and collects her movies. “Well, enjoy your drink!”

Fernando sketches a quick bow. “Enjoy your movies!”

Ah, the refreshing taste of success.

Squee!

Fernando was in the best of moods one day, for this was the day on which the trailer for The Hobbit was unveiled to the world. He did not quite produce manly tears of joy, but he certainly acted as might a child of four when faced with a thing which titillates the soul. Because this took place at the Dominion, by necessity a customer, one of Fernando's somewhat geekish regulars, entered in the midst of Fernando's uncouth whoops of glee.

“What's that all about?” she asks as Fernando writes out the rental agreement.

Fernando clears his throat and brings himself closer to stoic normalcy. “The Hobbit!” he says with a happy giggle and perhaps a bit of arm flailing. “Comes out next year!” Then the realization that he must wait a full year before theatrical bliss sets in, and Fernando sobers a bit.

“Wow. I can tell you're a little excited over this.” Then she says to Fernando words which bring him yet further down to earth. “You know there was another prequel movie that a whole lot of people were really excited about.” She affects an obnoxious nasal accent. “Meesa so happy to see you!”

This does not dissuade Fernando's merriment. “Peter Jackson is not George Lucas, and this is not Star Wars. I see what you're trying to do here, and it's not working. You won't disappoint me.”

“I bet you don't hear that very often.”

Fernando stares in amazement for a moment, then bows his head in defeat. “Okay, wow. Wow.” The customer smirks at him. “But I'll just rewatch the trailer once you're gone and my shattered heart level will be restored.”

This reference flies over her head. And once she leaves, Fernando does precisely that, and all became well...nay, better, in the world.

Music Meister

One evening a young lady and her guyfriend return some movies. “These aren't late, are they?”

“Nope. It's only quarter to seven right now, and they're all older ones so I'm not too terribly concerned.”

“That's what I thought!” She turns to her companion and punches him in the bicep. “I told you!”

“Your thing says six,” the chap responds.

“Yeah, that's because I can't be bothered to pay to have it changed. Newer ones pretty much back by seven, and before I go home for the older ones.”

The young lady says to Fernando in a lilting singsong, “So they just have to really be back by closing time?”

“'One last call for alcohol so finish your whiskey or beer,'” Fernando ripostes. “And yes.”

This for some reason floors the girl. “Holy crap you know that song?”

“Only that part of it and like two other lines and every end is a new beginning somethingsomething.” She and her boyfriend make merry laughing sounds and depart.

Truth be told, Fernando has never heard that actual song before. All he knows about it comes from Weird Al's cover of it in “Polka Power!”

Hot Blooded

Fernando received a bottle of Dave's Insanity Sauce as a gift. It kicked his and his friends' asses a great deal when they tried it the first time, and for three or so months after its receipt it sat untouched in the back room, leering with derision at Fernando and his crew as they used other hot sauces.

One jolly evening, Fernando decided to man up on the weekly pizza, and he placed upon its surface a few drops of liquid death. Fernando's companions decried him as mentally deficient, as having ignored the Wisdom score rolled for him by the Great DM Above. But Fernando ignored their petty words and consumed the slice of pizza, and though his mouth seared with flames of habanero pepper, he did not perish. Soon Fernando's friends began using the Dave's as well, and it became the regular additive for pizza joy. Three drops became four, which then became seven or more, and the drops grew from tiny specks to small ponds, to the occasional, undesired, lake or ocean which Dave's, in its lust for carnage, would produce.

One evening pizza was had, and Dave's was passed around. Fernando's companion Cortez was selected as the victim of Dave's unending spite, for it placed its ocean of death in the worst possible location: at the tip of the pizza, on the first bite, where one could not easily flee to less-hot-saucy regions because the areas further in on the slice had hot sauce denizens of their own. He faced a conundrum. Should he scrape some of it off and deal with the mockery of others, who had braved such debacles and lived, or should he suffer oral agony unlike any other?

While Cortez ruminated on this life-changing decision, a cluster of four high school-age girls entered the Dominion. Fernando left the back room and its chaos to assist them.

As they are heading out, a sound not unlike a hobo being fed to a pack of hyenas fills the store. There is much cursing. It seems Cortez made up his mind. One of the girls, her face pale, looks to the back room. “What was that?”

“That?” says Fernando. “That was probably the result of Dave's.”

“Who's Dave?” another asks.

“Dave's Insanity Sauce. It is full of hate and torment, and that is what makes it delightful.”

“It can't be that hot,” says the first.

“How do you stand on Tabasco sauce?”

“Um....”

“Like, do you think Tabasco sauce is hot?”

“Yeah, it's pretty spicy. That's like buffalo wings, right?”

“Ish, yeah. So, Tabasco sauce has a Scoville of, ehhhh, three-kay.”

“A what?” she asks.

“Scoville units. It's a scale that measures the capsaicin content of things. Capsaicin being the oil which gives hot peppers their heat. It's different from the molecule that gives black pepper its heat, seeing as they're two different species of plant.”

Fernando notices that he's starting to lose his audience to infodump, so he forges onward. “Anyway, the kind of hot sauce we have back there is about sixty times hotter than Tabasco sauce.”

“That doesn't sound that hot,” says a third girl.

Time for a demonstration. Fernando keeps another bottle of hot sauce up front, El Yucateco, his go-to for balanced heat and flavor. He unscrews the cap. “This one's about ten, eleven thousand. About three times hotter than Tabasco.” He raises his eyebrows. “Who's feeling brave?”

Turns out none of them, as the pungency of the hot sauce sets them to sniffling from three feet away. They depart.

Fernando returns to the back room to see Cortez, face reddened and eyes brimming with tears. “It hurts so good,” he tells Fernando. Then he takes another bite of Dave's-laced pizza.

Legal Tender

Fernando is engaged with one of his regular customers one gloomy weekday immediately after opening. He banters about the high quality and enjoyment factor of the films the gentleman had just rented (Bridesmaids and Horrible Bosses). The man fishes about in a pocket during the back and forth and dumps what he believes to be the correct amount of money on the counter. Fernando scoops it up and sorts it into the register, then notices a mild discrepancy.

“You accidentally gave me a wad of pocket lint instead of a quarter,” says Fernando. He deposits the fuzzy blue ball on the countertop.

“Oh, I'm sorry! Probably should get you another quarter...not unless you accept pocket lint as a form of currency?”

“No, sorry,” Fernando says. “You might want to try Somalia or Eritrea or somewhere, see if you could maybe barter half a chicken for it.”

“Psh,” says the customer. “I could just head over to the C-Store if I wanted to visit a shithole. It's closer.”

Fernando chortles in a most unseemly fashion at this jab directed at the nearby gas station, accepts the man's quarter, and then spends the day in a merry mood. Laughter, good for the soul.

Glorious Oldening

Though the Dominion is a place of dread and outrage most times, on rare occasions it relents in its torturing of Fernando and allows for merriment and joy.

Well, sort of.

Fernando scheduled a celebration in honor of New Release Tuesday because what isn't worth celebrating about Sucker Punch? That it was his birthday was complete arbitrary coincidence.

And there were guests! Many guests had RSVP'd and food had been prepared, but some of those guests brought some other guests and in the end there was a shortage of everything from cake to chairs. But no matter! Many fine things occurred that evening and Fernando cannot possibly recount all of them, so he shall cover three highlights:

First, Fernando was in a discussion with some of his compatriots about music when one of Fernando's guests mentions Linkin Park. His attention peels from the current topic and he says, “Linkin Park? You realize, right, that they were popular when I was in high school?”

“Are you dissing Linkin Park?” asks a guest, who is a young lady that enjoys Linkin Park's discography.

“Well, I'm just saying that Linkin Park's relevance now is like Dexy's Midnight Runners' relevance when I was in high school. Besides, Linkin Park is all about being angry and sad, but they're like forty now.”

“You're dissing Linkin Park!” accuses the guest's friend, who is also a young lady.

Fernando shrugs. “I'm calling it like I see it. It's all, 'Craaaaaawling in my skiiiiin, these words I cannot somethingsomething! I am angry and sad, so I will yell about it please buy my CD.'”

The two young ladies at this juncture did the real life equivalent of ragequitting while some of Fernando's other guests cheered and laughed. But according to some of Fernando's more musically aware friends, Linkin Park's music has matured since the early 2000s. So perhaps they are significantly less screamy nowadays and Fernando's broad strokes were in error. However, that which is said cannot be unsaid.

Second, one of Fernando's friends who could not make it to the jamboree bequeathed unto him a most wondrous gift: a copy of Friday! Now he can share that cinematic masterpiece with all the world.

Finally, another of Fernando's guests bequeathed unto him a five ounce bottle of liquid joy labeled “Dave's Insanity Sauce.” The first thing Fernando does? Unscrews the top and shoved a properly coated fingertipful into his mouth.

“Hey, this stuff's not too bad,” says Fernando. Then the capsaicin kicks in. “Ghek.”

“Your face is turning red,” says one of Fernando's guests.

“Yeah, and your eyes are watering,” notes another.

But Fernando, despite his body's instinctual reaction to the sudden arrival of a chemical irritant, is filled with ecstasy. And once the initial “holy crap this is spicy” has passed, Fernando begins consuming it in measured amounts with the delicacies made available at this New Release Tuesday Jamboree. In the end his tongue is bright red and on fire and it is marvelous.

The rolling of bones ensued and death was had, and overall it was a good day. Too bad it only comes once a year.

The Noun that Verbs Your Noun

Fernando's chilling at the store one slow afternoon watching videos on Youtube. He finds himself singing along to the expository theme tune at one point. Because he wears headphones and is caught up in musical splendor and nostalgia, he misses that a customer enters the store.

He continues with his serenading until he catches a bit of movement out of the corner of his eye. He sees a young woman standing at the counter with an amused look on her face.

“You didn't just see that, okay?” Fernando says, pausing the video and removing his headset.

“See what?” she asks. “I'm not even sure what I was looking at. What is that?” She points at Fernando's computer screen which has frozen upon it the image of a white mallard with a pimping purple fedora.

“That's Darkwing Duck,” Fernando says. He eyes the young lady. “You do know who that is, right?”

“Um, no, actually.”

Fernando produces an exaggerated sigh of consternation. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“And you don't know who Darkwing Duck is?”

“No.”

“This is the part where I'm supposed to go all old fogey on your ass about your misspent youth.”

“Aren't you only like twenty-five?”

“God, I wish I was twenty-five again. That's like being a young whippersnapper somethingsomething kids these days.” Fernando shakes his fist at an unoffensive guardian spider lurking in one corner. The guardian spider pays him no mind.

The young lady laughs and promises to keep Fernando's embarrassing shenanigans to herself.

War on Terror

One of Fernando's regular customers comes in to pick up a couple of gift certificates for a child's birthday party to which her own children were invited. After she writes out the check and the transaction goes through, she is sealing the envelopes Fernando provided and asks, “Wait. Is this my pen or yours?”

“It's definitely yours. My pens aren't nearly that nice.” And, indeed, this is a sleek, impressive ballpoint pen that is operated not via click, but with way past cool twisting of the pen's shaft.

“Neither are mine. I think I borrowed this one from my life insurance office.”

“Life insurance is the most important kind of insurance,” Fernando says in a way that, he hopes, resembles a koan. “Aside from vehicle and property and terrorism--”

“Wait, terrorism insurance?” the woman interrupts.

“Oh, yeah. Terrorism insurance.”

“You're joking.”

“I wish I were. I pay like eight bucks a year to have terrorism insurance coverage on my building here. It's bundled in with everything else but when I get my yearly invoice-description-thing there it is, itemized.”

“Why?” she asks.

“Oh, obviously because I run the daily risk of a terrorist obliterating my property. Actually, it's like a federal thing that I have to have it.”

And she busts out laughing at that. “That is just about the best thing ever. Terrorism insurance! I'm going to have to tell everyone that that exists! They won't believe it! You just made my day.”

“Oh, it's real. It's all too real.”

She laughs again and says, “See you later, Fern! Thanks for the gift certificates!”

Fernando strives to make the world a better place in his own way whenever he can.

Conversational Threads

One evening at around 7.30 Fernando is doing all the things he generally does around that time, like updating the late list and cleaning. One of his regular customers comes in and rents a couple of movies. As she retrieves her money to pay, Fernando makes a comment about her money-holding-clam-female-wallet-thing. “Is...is that the Cheshire Cat from American McGee's Alice on there?”

“What?” she says. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I got this for Valentine's Day.”

“Oh? Hot Topic?”

“Spencer's, actually. They actually have a lot of stuff like this.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. There's all kinds of stuff like that, or the...shit...I want to say Seth MacFarlane figurines but I know that's not right.”

“Todd McFarlane. Seth MacFarlane is kind of a little different.”

“Well, Todd has much better artistry in his projects. But it's all corporate moneymilking anyhow. It's like how Invader Zim stuff is plastered everywhere so Nickelodeon can get their royalties but the actual cartoon? Psh. Canceled after a year and a half because most of the viewers were college-aged people and Nick didn't like that fact.”

“You know about Invader Zim?”

“Know it? I own the DVDs and have been a fan ever since I accidentally stumbled across, by pure chance while channel flipping in the dorm room at college to procrastinate studying for some exam, the one time they aired the Christmas episode back in 2002.”

And from there Fernando and this customer discussed many topics under the sun and the moon. Roughly in order: Invader Zim, how Invader Zim will never be uncanceled, the uncancellation of Family Guy and how most of the newer episodes are crap, Adult Swim and its role in the uncancellation, how Adult Swim started sucking right around 2006 because every show became random-access stoner humor and all the good shows like Moral Orel or Korgoth of Barbaria were either ended or never allowed to blossom in the first place, how most TV shows that are genuinely good are canceled by networks that apparently hate viewers, Firefly, Fringe, Lost and how the series finale was “narrative blue balls,” American media consumption being driven by passivity on the part of the viewers instead of provoking an engagement in the narrative, Snakes on a Plane, movies that are so bad they embrace their badness and become awesome, how most modern horror movies go for shock value above ambiance, how Rosemary's Baby is probably the creepiest movie that either of us had ever seen, how the Nightmare on Elm Street series is not horror but actually very very very very very black comedy, Little Miss Sunshine, Stranger Than Fiction, how the aforementioned movie is in Fernando's opinion Will Ferrell's best, The Other Guys and how it breaks the Will Ferrell curse of bad movies, how weird it is that Fernando has been in a conversation for over an hour, how Fernando maintains a strict divide between his personal and his business life, agreement that Fernando keeping his “dorkiness” hidden from most customers is probably a good idea, how this customer has a “gorgeous” female acquaintance who exclusively dates geeks, Fernando wryly predicting that this acquaintance is by necessity not single and then being proven correct in that assumption, online dating, the confirmation biases inherent in people who utilize online dating, the silliness of people who proclaim “true love” after having dated for about six months, accidentally making babies, teenage pregnancy, people refusing to obtain some reliable means of birth control despite having just accidentally made a baby and then ending up with a litter of four or five of them, common sense, Fernando reminiscing about how he thought he was “hot shit” at milestones in his past but later learning he was just as ignorant as ever, kids these days and their iObjects, fourteen-year-olds who look and dress like they're in their twenties, Gumby, how most animation nowadays contains some sort of parental bonus or is geared to older viewers anyhow, Invader Zim.

By the time the circle had been closed, it was quarter after 9. Fernando usually closes at 8 on Wednesdays.

Fernando supposes time does fly when one is having fun. And Fernando watched The Other Guys that night once he got home and it was actually not bad at all.

Friend

One foggy February day Fernando is updating his Chronicles when the phone rings. The caller ID reads “Wireless Caller.”

“Hello, Dominion of Movies?”

The voice on the other end is a gritty male and not any of the gritty males that frequent the store. “Yes. Is Aeris Gainsborough there?” (That isn't the actual name that was used, else this exchange would have been far more fun and less creepy. The name has been altered to protect the innocent).

Bizarre request. “Um...no?”

The voice on the other end remains a dry rasp. “Do you know who that is?”

“I do.” She was a semiregular customer but hadn't been to the store in months now.

“Have you seen her lately?”

Bizarrer. “May I ask who is calling?”

“A friend,” the voice wheezes. Well, that settled it. This guy was totally trustworthy and Fernando was ready to turn over everything he asked to him.

Wait, no. It actually sent up all kinds of red flags, so Fernando turned into kind of a dick in order to salvage some utility from this conversation before it inevitably dead-ended. “That was very helpful, thanks. To answer your initial question, Aeris either is in my store or she is not.”

“Is she?” the voice asks in that creepy, raspy monotone.

“I'm not sure. I'm not even one hundred percent sure I'm in the store.” (Which is arguably true if anyone wants to debate the epistemological foundation of that statement).

The voice on the other end grunts in frustration and hangs up.

Bizarre.

Saturday Special

One Saturday evening the store is hopping like a frog that has been force-fed an entire pot of coffee, to the point that Fernando has literally nothing but a big stack of twenties and a smattering of ones in his till. A group of four high schoolers, two male and two female, drop by and browse the store for a bit before selecting a movie.

“Hey, uh, tonight there aren't any specials are there?” asks the male ringleader of the group when he brings his tag to the counter.

“No, unfortunately,” says Fernando. “Saturday is a soundly unspecial night.

“Well, no,” he adds after a moment of reflection, “It would be free popcorn night but I'm fresh out of that. It's been really busy today.”

“That's not good,” says the female ringleader of the group from slightly behind the male ringleader. “I don't think it's fair that everybody else could have gotten popcorn and we don't. I demand something special to make up for it.” And she crosses her arms and sticks out her lower lip.

Fernando exhales. “I mean...I'm not sure what I could do for you guys.”

“Well, either we get something special or we're not renting.” The lip-stick-out-ness increased in might and valor.

“I could dance a merry jig for you,” says Fernando suddenly, despite the fact there are about five different groups of people browsing the store and Fernando has, put charitably, the dance skills of a paraplegic and beached orca.

Her eyes twinkle mischievously. “You're serious?”

So Fernando puts his money where his mouth is and steps out from behind the counter and dances a short and hopefully merry jig. One of the other customer-groups applauds politely.

“Ok, you win,” says the ringleaderess. “We'll rent. You're one heck of a salesman.”

“Why, thank you,” responds Fernando. “You're one heck of a customer, complimenting me on my salesmanship.”

“Your ego looks like it needed the boost after the embarrassing thing you just did,” says she. And everyone laughs and the rental is processed and the group of four leave the store. Fernando then helps the next customer group in line.

Fernando hopes the four high schoolers come back soon. He likes fun and witty customers.

Free Smells

One evening Fernando is eating his dinner when a semiregular customer and her daughter come into the store. He is unable to greet them immediately because his mouth is full of deliciousness at that moment, but the mother fortunately takes initiative in the conversation.

“What's that smell?” she asks, waiting patiently on Fernando's response as he works his jaws frenetically.

Fernando swallows his mouthful and says, “Jambalaya.”

“It smells really good.”

“I should hope so,” says Fernando, who is somewhat surprised it can be smelled in the first place, “I made it myself.”

At this point the daughter, who's eighteen or thereabouts, chimes in. “Wait. You cook?”

“Of course I do.”

She looks doubtful, no doubt because Fernando is male and stereotyping exists in the world. “Is that from a box?”

“Absolutely not!” Fernando exclaims in mock affront. “I cook from scratch whenever possible.”

The young woman cocks her head. “Could you give me the recipe?”

“What? Uh, sure. Yeah. Let me type it up right quick for you and print it off, since you'd never be able to read my scrawl.” So the two of them browse the store and select a few movies to rent while Fernando types up his jambalaya recipe and prints it off for them before they leave. Due to the way Fernando does his cooking, the recipe is not the most precise set of instructions ever created, and he made this fact clear when he turned it over.

A few days later the daughter returns to the store to rent again, and informs Fernando that her family had prepared jambalaya according to his recipe and found it quite delectable. Fernando will take compliments wherever he finds them.

And, for the curious:

2ish teaspoons olive oil

1 lb. chicken breast

8 oz. spicy sausage

1 large onion, chopped

1 bell pepper, chopped

2-3 stalks of celery, sliced

~3 teaspoons minced garlic

~2 teaspoons crushed red pepper

Cayanne pepper to taste

1 28 oz can of crushed tomatoes

2 cups of brown rice

4 cups of water

Heat oil in large pot and saute chicken and sausage for about 5 minutes. Stir in onion, pepper, celery, garlic, and crushed peppers. Saute for about 5 more minutes until onion is translucent. Add cayenne pepper, tomatoes, rice, and water. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and cover; and cook for about 40 minutes until rice is done.

Go forth and prepare!

A Happy Halloween Tale

One of Fernando's most regular of customers comes in one day in October and asks if he has the documentary An Inconvenient Truth. She is a teacher, and her science class was studying global warming, and she felt it would be a helpful educational tool in discussion on the topic. Fernando agreed with her and allowed her to borrow the movie free of charge, as Fernando is an ardent believer in lifelong education and “paying it forward” to the next generation.

About a week later said customer returns to the store carrying a large piece of posterboard. Fernando is intrigued by this, as customers do not usually bring along pieces of posterboard when they come a-renting. But, lo, this piece of posterboard was a large, approximately two-and­-a-half by one-and-a-half foot card from her entire class reading, “Thank you, Mr. Ferny (they did not want to deal with the hassle of how to spell Fernando's last name)! The movie helped us learn about global warming and what we can do to help the earth.” and with a veritable phone book of names on the card's inside.

Fernando pinned it to the wall of his store and it now proudly gazes down upon his Dominion.

That's What Friends Are For

Fernando does not get many visitors these days, since everyone is off doing his or her own thing, and spare time and money are precious commodities roughly on par with spaceship fuel. Sure, Fernando has his weekly gig with his dragonslaying crew, but most of Fernando's other correspondences with his peers take place via the internet or via telephone.

When an opportunity for an in-person reunion rears its head, therefore, Fernando will take fullest advantage of it.

One of Fernando's best friends from the days in which he was a slacker in college instead of a slacker in a video store is Consuela, who currently resides some eight-odd hour drive from him. Consuela's job requires her to do site visits once in a great while, and it was fortuitous that her most recent site visits brought her to the vicinity of the Dominion of Movies. So it was agreed that she would stop by one night and the glory days would be relived. Fernando also made it a point to induct her to the most wondrous of offerings from Fernando's community: the legendary Sweaty Bill's Pizza.

She arrived safely and timely, and reunioneqsue words were exchanged; they were on the tune of "I'm here!" and "Welcome to the Dominion of Movies!" (as if Consuela was stopping by from her neighboring dorm room instead of it being the first time in about five years they had seen one another in person) and the pizza was ordered with three toppings: pepperoni, green peppers, and mushrooms. When the pizza was picked up twenty minutes later and brought back to the Dominion for consumption, the pepperoni and green peppers were nonexistent compared to the veritable genocide of Princess Peach's subjects slathered on top of the pie.

Consuela is one who loves mushrooms and occasionally purchases cans of the things to munch on as a snack; Fernando is significantly less enamored. But even Consuela's mighty fungal craving could not tackle the mountains on the pizza. Slices could not be lifted without them tumbling everywhere. One could brush one's hand over the top and displace entire settlements. So these extraneous mushrooms were soon piled in one corner of the pizzahouse like a grisly offering to some Cthulhuesque chaos god whose infinite hunger could not even reduce the pile. Consuela became highly amused.

So the mushrooms-with-a-side-of-pizza were eaten, and NBC was watched (though we really had no clue what was going on as we were busy "shooting the breeze"), and we discussed things like politics and DRM and Rebecca: The Horrible Groupwork Girl From Our Cuban Politics Class Back in the Day. It was enjoyable, and Fernando was made merry, and Consuela too. But, as all good things must come to an end, Consuela had to leave barely more than two hours after she had arrived. Timely site visits require driving and competent driving requires sleep. So Fernando bid her a good night and thanked her for finding time to visit. When she at last departed, the Dominion of Movies became a less cheerful place.

But, ye gods, those mushrooms.

Do You Want a Play?

Fernando is minding his own business one slow October afternoon when the phone rings. The caller ID flashes “NEVADA CALL” and Fernando feels a burst of titillation. He lets the phone ring three or four times while he gets into the proper character.

“Hello.”

“Yeah, this is John calling on behalf of Lou Diamond. I've got a play that you might be interested in, and I just wanted to give you a quick Spiel to see if you'll back me up.”

“What play is it that you speak of? Is this performed on a stage?”

“Well, let me help you out in getting you on board. You ever heard of Lou Diamond?”

“He has quite an improper name. It resembles that of a human streetwhorewalker.”

“Well, our records show you have a movie store, and we've got a DVD coming out that'll be a huge hit. I just wanted to know if you'd be up for a play.”

“Again with this silly play. Is this Dee-Vee-Dee one in which humans perform on a stage? Did the step-ladder-humans create it? It is something they would be likely to do. We must be wary of this step-ladder-human nonsense!”

“What....No. Listen, just give me your name so I can put you down for one of these.”

“Ye, this sounds reasonable. Cokakar.”

“O...kay. That's really your name?”

“Is your name is really your name?”

“Listen, are you the one in charge there? Is there somebody else I can talk to, the owner or something?” Up to this point, “John” somehow managed to remain incredibly slick-talking and upbeat. I have to give him major credit for that.

“No, no. Haragol Amelel is not here at the moment. You speak to Cokakar.”

“Well, um--”

“I once had a filthy elefim in my body. It made me do such silly and filthy things as hug a dwarf-man floating in midair with rats.”

“What are you--” Now he started losing it. Tee-hee-hee.

“The one most annoying step-ladder-human became a bear and I threw the elefim into the ocean not long thereafter. And another one off a cliff. It survived. Filthy elefim.”

He hung up and hasn't called back since, which is odd as Cokakar was being very friendly that day indeed.