I don't know if it's just an overactive imagination or what, but everywhere I go I make up stories about people's lives. For instance I was in blockbuster recently and made up this story about the people working there.
My name-tag says I'm Scott but my friends call me Scooter. I'm a jock, and I'm probably cooler than you. Why the hell are you renting Pinocchio for the seventeenth time for your kids. Here's a thought, buy the damn movie you've already spent $47 on rental fees, and late charges, after “your toddler hid it in their playhouse”, yeah yeah I don't really care so shut up. Just get your fake boobs out of my face lady. The only reason why I am here is to make enough money to keep taking Emma to the movies on Friday nights. She is a pain in the ass but I would do anything to sit with my arm around her and kiss her on her front porch.
“What the hell dude!” I yelled as someone was punching me in the arm. It's Christian, what a creepy asshole. “Relax man, go restock those movies,” he said. He says things like “man” thinking I will stop thinking that he is a creepy 23 year old asshole. "Well its not working," I think out loud. "What?" says Christian. I don't even reply I just take the annoying squeaky movie cart and wheel it out to the children's section, only because it is the farthest away from the cash register where Christian hovers.
I listen to him as a girl comes into rent a movie. She is alone, and I can tell that Christian wants to hit on her but is trying to work up the courage. She looks around forever, and finally makes it up to the counter. I hear him say, "You have the same name as a very beautiful irish playwright," and then look expectantly at her. She pauses awkwardly and then says thanks and leaves. Poor girl, didn't know what to say. But hahaha look at that crazy man standing deflated at his throne of movies. I don't think he has ever even been on a date.
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