The sign outside
Says low low low prices
I go inside the store
The store takes everything from me
I end up with nothing
I go back home for one last time
I sleep in that bed for one last time
I wake up, eat breakfast in that kitchen, shit-shower-shave in that house one last time
I look real cool walking in slow motion towards the camera, smiling strangely, as that house explodes spectacularly in the background
I go to the public library to get on the Internet
I begin to do a little bit of research
I end up doing a lotta bit of research
At some point I’m like, “Oh. Okay. I see it now. Right. Sure.”
I log off Internet, but I just sit there in front of the computer.
A tough looking man of indeterminate middle age asks me if I’m gonna sit there all day.
I figure he needs to look at fan art of Harley Quinn, so I get up, wander through the fiction stacks, mulling over the results of my research.
You see,
what I found out online
was that that store that took everything from me
really-truly-madly-deeply
was
indeed
actually
no lie
no bullshit
charging me low low low prices.
But the catch is
Everything’s just more expensive these days
Nothing personal
It’s just the economics, is all.
I wander the fiction stacks.
I start thinking about names: Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Shakespeare, Brecht, Faulkner, Hemingway-all that shit I faked my way through in college.
Last book I read was something about punching up my social media viral marketing presence online, and before that I tried to read something about the Stoics-
I’m standing before the disorganized paperback racks.
I see Michael Crichton, I read a few of those one time, they were all right-and James Patterson, I read one of those once, and there’s the lawyer guy, Grisham, and one of the old James Bonds, From Russia with Love, I think I read one of the 1990s Bonds where it was a different writer, there’s another lawyer guy, a bunch of Star Wars, got a Star Trek with Picard on the cover, one of the later TekWars by Shatner, Pet Semetary, various historical romances-
“No fucking way . . .”
They’ve got some of the Resident Evil books. And they’ve got some Robotechs. I loved those books in high school!
I grab up the Resident Evil and Robotech books. I see someone’s backpack on a table, pick it up, dump out a Nintendo Switch 3, stuff the Resident Evils and Robotechs into the bag, fight off some irate teenager with a Judo throw that sends him crashing into a The Magic School Bus display, and book it for the front door.
Sure enough, the security thing beep beep beeps.
I’m booking it towards the camera . . . but because I’m not in slow motion, the library doesn’t explode behind me.
JUMP CUT
The library is gone.
In its place sits a Mini-Pentagon franchisee.
I walk towards it, figuring I’ll do the right thing, return the books I stole,
but I skid to a stop.
I see the new structure.
I take it all in, in all its implications.
I’m like, “Fuck it, I’ll go sign up for a Forever War. What else would I be doing?”
But quick enough, I see that the Mini-Pentagon is locked up tight.
There’s a screen with a long-winded message talking about “recent financial difficulties” and “overall lack of participation” and “no set date for re-opening at this time”
and I ask myself,
“Did they finally run out of money for Forever Wars?!? How is that even possible? Isn’t that illegal? Those Forever Wars were the only things they ever spent grown-up amounts of money on, so what the hell . . .”
JUMP CUT
I wander the land.
Those Resident Evil and Robotech books never get old.
Sometimes I have to fight.
Sometimes I have to steal.
Sometimes I have to hide.
I’m not okay.
I’m okay adjacent.
JUMP CUT
I’m screaming as the Resident Evil and Robotech books extrude bouquets of drill-tipped “tentacles” and pierce my body all over.
“My God! All along! It was the books! IT WAS THE BOOOOOOOOKS!!!”
JUMP CUT
And now everything’s covered in ants.
JUMP-
Orson Welles eats the rest of the reel.
