My Dearest Margot:
It seems as if I have been here since the beginning of time. Each night, the only thing that sustains me is to think of you, my love...
By the way, I did some research. As a matter of fact, they do have computers and net access up there in Canada. You better read this, and you better write me back. Darling.
How I miss the warm comfort of my old store. There, my customers mainly consisted of sweet old ladies who would knit me hats to keep my head warm and bring me tea. What sin have I committed to deserve this hell? Here, when I'm not busy denying cigarettes and beer to blatantly underage stoned young white males, or begging the police to come pick up the drunks that have set up some sort of shanty town around pump number three, I am busy wondering what those horrible, unearthly groans are that emanate from the men's room. I went in there. Once. And only once.
Yes? Huh? Oh. This Rev. Bob character is telling me I have to stop whining and get on with the ranting. I'm not sure what the difference is, but here goes:
AAARGGHHHH!!! AH!! AH AH UH!! I HATE THIS!!! KILL EVERYONE!!! HI MOM!!!
Is that better? Oh. From the look he just gave me, I suppose not. Okay, I'll try again.
Here's something I don't get: sports movies. Every year, Hollywood puts out three or four more of the stupid things. Why? If you've seen one, you have, as the cliche goes, seen them all. In fact, I would like to see every writer in the country write a script for a sports movie, send it in to filmmakers, and hopefully every one of those scripts will become movies. Then, perhaps, after putting out 12,854 movies in one season, each movie having exactly the same plot, Hollywood will get this stupid desire to make these horrid things out of its system.
For those of you writers lucky enough to have never seen a sports flick, here it is:
Losing Team is, well, a bunch of uncoordinated, oft-overweight losers. Losing Team comes across Magic/Supernatural/Extremely Coordinated Baseball Glove/Dog/Angel/Ghost.
Losing Team, now empowered with Magic Item, becomes Winning Team. Though each player is pretty much as terrible before, Magic Item more than makes up for this. Losing Team starts "kicking butt", and for the first time in history makes it to Championship Game.
At start of Championship Game, Losing Team's Magic Item is lost/disqualified by ref/dies/inexplicably loses its magic power. However, Losing Team pulls together anyway, and play their little hearts out. Because they have Learned the True Value of Teamwork, even though they suck, Losing Team barely manages to tie Other Team. The game goes into overtime, and then in the last 10 seconds of the film Star Member of Losing Team, in slow motion, makes the Winning Basket/Home Run/Goal. The crowd cheers, victorious music plays, the end.
On second thought, don't bother slagging Hollywood with these sorts of scripts. I will simply copyright the generic script, and then sue anyone who puts out a sports movie for copyright infringement.
Perhaps I'll get out of this Hell after all.
Hey, kids! Tired of being lonely all the time? Hey, mom and dad! Tired of your child whining about not having anyone to play with?
Then come on down to M.P.'s Pre-Adolescent Emporium! We have a wide selection of children to choose from, most of whom have the correct number of fingers and toes, all at rock-bottom prices! Each child was carefully selected for fine breeding from among the multitudes of children left in Inconvenience Stores while their retarded parents go Off To The Bar to Drink a Beer!
We're overstocked, so everything must go!! M.P.'s Pre-Adolescent Emporium is conveniently located in the mop closet of Inconvenience Store #13,453. Just follow the stench of beer and despair!! And be sure to ask about our special Clergy Discounts!! Choirboys galore!! And a very special massive surcharge if you can prove you are any of our kiddies' biological parents!!!