Hi and holla to all my loyal fans of all ages. Even you grandpa! I’m back in action with another story to throw you for a loop-di-loop. This genuine artifact will be about the days of my loyal services to a local video store which shall remain nameless. I enjoyed servitude to this place of business basically throughout my high school career and it was quite an enjoyable time, minus the fact that we were dubbed as “video rangers” instead of employees. Even every note to our staff would be addressed to the “video rangers” … how demeaning.

Every cover of a movie box would have something like this embroided on the front

We started out as a small group of kids that got changed up every now and then personnel-wise due to some of them being retarded and getting fired. They were fucking stupid; at least under the first owner, this place was the flat out BOMB to work at, most of the time anyway. One of our chores consisted of making popcorn out of a machine, which I did oh so perfectly, and called them Mike batches. I used to be all over this machine making about 20x what I needed to make for that shift because I was generous and took the 20-40 some-odd boxes of popcorn to school the next day in a huge sack just like Santa Claus. It felt good to find out what being like good old Saint Nicholas was actually like.

So, I met a good amount of friends working at this place; I called them co-workers but also my own compadres. There were a few girls that worked there that had teats that I wanted to suckle on, but there was an older woman I’d say in her early 40’s, that had a lazy eye, and I doubt she was all there in the head. We shall call this woman D-Money. This woman was particularly nice, well she had to be, but when one of us had to work with her on those fateful Wednesday nights, they were brutal boy.

Not only was there D-Money, but a younger college aged girl worth mentioning that had extremely manly features, including sideburns longer than Jack’s beanstalk. Let’s stick to D-Money though, shall we? Yes, Lets! One of the flaws of working with her along with not knowing if she was looking at you or not was her constant chat. This woman could fucking talk and gossip about everything and anything from the Grand Canyon to paying bills to her friends who I assume were imaginary. There was never a point to her conversations AT ALL, so we all managed to avoid them as much as possible. She had a curly fro of hair as well, which made her look she grew up in the Amazon River Basin.

One of the most classic things about this woman was how she hated when it was busy at the store. EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU WORKED WITH OR RIGHT BEFORE THIS WOMAN, SHE WOULD ASK “IS IT BUSY,” except it would sound like “Ith it bithee” because she also had a lisp and a half. If you thought Jim Carrey in the movie “Cable Guy” was bad, you ain’t seen nothing yet!

D-Money also loved the absolute worst movie of possibly all time, entitled “One Fine Day.” God this movie was shit on a shish kabob which starred Michelle Pfeiffer and George Clooney “Toons.” When working with her she would sometimes ask you if you wanted to put on a movie, but if you weren’t quick enough “One Fine Day” would be drilling holes inside your brain for the rest of your shift, and maybe your entire lifetime. Maybe that’s what hell is like, watching “One Fine Day” over and over again. I think she secretly masturbated to this movie at home, or maybe even in the office room we had. Ugh. Here’s a tip: Don’t ever think about a 40-year old woman with a curly afro and lazy eye jilling one off.

During her tenure at our video store we should have been given spit-shields because every time she would talk (which was a whole helluvalot) drops of saliva would fly directly into my eyes, face, bosom, you name it. Therefore, by the time she was done gossiping with you, which would seem like an eternal damnation, the upper half of your body could be drowning in D-spit.

The D-Money spit-shield in all its glory.

You would think there wasn’t much more to tell about this lady gadiva, but you are dead wrong. One of my coworkers and buddies Chris and I would alternate Wednesday nights with this bitch of a million bitches. Now, us being teenagers and the like, our mothers would come to visit us, bring us food while working, ETCETERA. This actually wasn’t the case when working with D-Money. It would actually wind up that our mothers would spend more of the visit actually talking to the gossip queen herself. I felt bad for my mom because she probably needed a spit shield as much as I did. So, throughout the entire visits, D-Money would talk to our mothers the whole time, and we in turn would wind up doing all the work while D-Money chewed my mom’s ear off like she was Mike Tyson.

I’m not much of a car guy, and I don’t really care about knowing all the different types and what not, but one of the things D-Money would talk about during every single work shift would be her godforsaken Subaru Outback. Not only did I not care about cars in general, multiply that tenfold and you’ll have the amount of care-ness I had about that damn white car from hell. For all I know it was painted in spit or worse yet, semen. She might have had a thing for semen, or sea-men for I believe she was a single woman. Why was the Subaru Outback better than a Pathfinder? I have no idea, but D-Money would surely not let me or any of the other coworkers forget.

Last but not least in this sad tale of affairs is that D-Money did not know her alphabet. Really, I kid you not. This 40-year old middle aged woman would have to count on her fingers and say the alphabet out loud just to make sure she was going in the right direction when putting back a returned video. Honestly I think it would have been much better working by my fucking self in the busiest of times there instead of dealing with all her questions and asinine remarks.

Well there you have it. Minus working with the 40-year old terror, which I might make a horror movie out of and title it that, the video store was a haven for good times. We stole things, goofed off countless times, watched wild and wacky movies, and we damn sure made fun of D-Fucking-Money.

Questions? Comments? Wanna watch “Weekend at Bernies II” with me and have fun while doing it? IF SO THEN YA GOTTA EMAIL ME AT Yeahyeahyeaaah@yahoo.com home slices. Go Colts.