I grimace. It's always a crusade, coming into the video store for certain material. First you nervously flit about the store, looking desperately for what you're there for. This continues until you realize that the anxiety of such said mission is really rather debilitating when it comes to your scouting capability, and you retreat up to the counter to ask. It's so peculiar, this endeavor; the behavioral nuances involved are encountered in only a few other situations: all taboo, awkward, and horribly embarrassing . It's just like having to ask the clerk to open the prophylactic case at the grocery store. You shakily approach the poor lad and softly mutter to him, although you know full well you'll end up repeating yourself 3 times and raising your voice to a dampened yell. It's okay though, because in the end you know you're getting laid, and the acne-ridden grocer forces you to yell out your request because his loathing is riddled with envy. With my scenario, however, it's just downright embarrassing.

I approach the counter.

"Hi."

"Hello." The word falls out of his overworked mouth like a half masticated lima bean slides down the face of a particularly lazy infant.

"I, uh, could you tell me, uh, is that the only section..." I hate feeling so counter productive. I clear my throat and frankly bark out the requisition. He starts to roll his eyes, but seems to notice the fact that my heel is tapping on the cheap tile and that my brows are skimming my mean, hard eyes.

"In the back, behind the comedy."

"Thank you."

Once I find the right stretch of space it doesn't take me long to find what I want. During the short period of time I take to debate and decide on the options that appeal to me a couple walks in.

(edited for content)

" Don't even feed me that bullcrap. I know exactly what you've been doing, Ha'erd (The man's name is Howard, but we're in Kentucky. His name is pronounced Ha'erd) Don't you DARE lie to me."

Naturally I let my eyebrows twist up in incredibility and glance towards the door. The woman is in tears with blue mascara smeared all over her face. The man is openly frustrated. She thinks he cheated on her. Clearly they thought they'd make the best of their time and rent a video while they hurled crass insults at one another.

"Dammit, Gina, stop hassling me, you scheemin' little skank. You knows I ain't been foolin' around on ya."

Other than the marriage-ending conversation they're in the middle of, their movements seem somewhat calm. They walk around the store, finding time between accusations to explain to the other why she really didn't want to see "The Hours". She continued to sob. He continued to huff. They both continued on their search for the perfect rental.

They end up in line right behind of me, still screaming. I am grateful for this when the time comes for me to place what I can't believe I'm going to watch on the counter. The clerk doesn't say anything. Between my trash and the couple's shrieking, his confidence in mankind has been whittled down to a small smidgeon about the size of a paperclip.

"You dog, Ha'erd, you filthy DOG! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU WOULD DO THAT ON MY BRAN' NEW SOFA!"

I turn around and shoot a completely disgusted look at them.

"Watchu lookin' at?" Ha'erd asks aggressively.

Please, I think. I have so much ammo against you hicks that I wouldn't know what to do with it. I look down at my three rentals and suddenly decide against it. I pick up my Sex and the City and walk out the door.