"We got *Pretty in Pink*, *The Blues Brothers*,
*The Princess Bride*, a Robin Williams stand-up tape and a really
funny-looking porno called *Edward Penishands*."
I had to smile in spite of myself, in spite of the pain. He stepped into
his kitchenette and came back with a box of chocolates. "Truffles," he
said. "So you can laze on the sofa, eating bonbons."
I smiled more widely then.
"Such a beautiful smile," he said. "Want a cup of coffee?"
"No," I said, choking it out past my raw-from-screaming throat.
"All right," he said. "Which video do you want to watch?"
"*Princess Bride*," I said. I hadn't heard of any of them, but I didn't
want to admit it.
"You don't want to start with Edward Penishands?"
#
Alan stood out front of the video shop for a while, watching Natalie
wait on her customers. She was friendly without being perky, and it was
clear that the mostly male clientele had a bit of a crush on her, as did
her mooning, cow-eyed co-worker who was too distracted to efficiently
shelve the videos he pulled from the box before him. Alan smiled. Hiring
cute girls for your shop was tricky business. If they had brains, they'd
sell the hell out of your stock and be entertaining as hell; but a lot
of pretty girls (and boys!) had gotten a free ride in life and got
affronted when you asked them to do any real work.
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