It all started off as a completely normal evening. It was during the week of my Thanksgiving break from college and my friend Spring had invited me over to her house to hang out with her and her friend Chrissy, who was visiting from elsewhere. I walk in to find that they have been perusing porn sites on the internet for a while, so, being the total pervert that I am, I pulled up a chair. After a while this got old, and somebody suggested we rent a movie, which turned into "Let’s rent a porn" and then to "Let’s rent a lesbian porn!" So that’s what we went to do.

We walked into the one and only video store in our lovely hamlet, only to find that the place is completely overrun by families with small, impressionable children. Not wanting to run straight for the porn cabinet in the back of the store and possibly scar some kids for life (I mean honestly, what happens to a child that sees three giggling young women paw through a stack of XXX rated videos. Other than the typical, "Mommy, what’s that thingie?") we stood in the back, relatively close to said cabinet, trying to look productive, and keeping a close eye on the rest of the store. Just when the place had finally emptied out and we thought it would be safe to make a mad dash across the room, two of the stupidest, most annoying and childish little brat high schoolers that we could possibly ever know (in this town, everybody knows everybody, keep that in mind) walk in and start hyuck-ing over the turkey hunting videos in the front. Spring and I both uttered an irritated profanity under our breath, while Chrissy stood completely confused and wondering why we were still standing there (she was lucky enough to not have the pleasure of knowing the two little twerps). We had to explain that they knew us and, being the hormonal and perverted little pubescent dorks that they were, we didn’t want to give them the pleasure of fantasizing about us having a lesbian orgy after we left with our culturally stimulating film. So there we were again, standing there, waiting for people to leave. And of course, as we were standing there, more families with young impressionable children came in (shouldn’t kids be in bed at that time of night?). After what seemed like an entire lifetime had passed, everyone had left, except for one lady who was standing up front talking to the lady behind the counter.

Trying to act nonchalant, we all head for the cabinet in a little clump. Safely hidden from view, we open the doors. The hinges give off a loud squeak and immediately there are loud tromping footsteps coming towards us. We start considering our selection, with me practically trying to climb into the cabinet as the footsteps grow closer. I have a fleeting hope that perhaps it’s the clerk going back to the storeroom behind us.

"Excuse me!" comes a loud braying voice from beside us.

We must be in her way, she’s trying to get by us, I think, trying to squeeze into the cabinet a little more.

"Excuse ME!!" the woman repeats.

We all turn around and look at her.

"Do any of you have ID?"

We exchange glances. Spring and Chrissy shake their heads. Of course! I just have to be the only one with an ID. I pull my driver’s license and hand it over to her, wondering which woman she was, the lady behind the counter, or the other one. I don’t remember, I hadn’t looked at them well enough.

She stands there considering it for a moment, then says in that same stick-up-her-butt voice, "What year were you born?"

"1980," I mumble.

She frowns, as if mad that she couldn’t catch someone underage at the porn cabinet, shoves my ID back at me, and stomps back to the front of the closet. The three of us stand there staring at each other for a moment, then turn back to our choices.

We stand in silence for a minute before I finally say, "Well, now that just ruined the mood."

"What a crab!" Spring whispers. We all agree. After a few minutes of searching through our limited selection (remember, we are in a small town, can’t have too much pornographic material or the school marms will complain) we finally find the one and only lesbian porn in the place: a delightful cinematic masterpiece entitled Tickled Pink. Wheee dawgy, we’re really in business now.

We step away from the closet, over-sized video box in hand, and go back to our original hiding place, since more people had come in while we were busy with our porn. We end up standing back there for another ten minutes or so, fighting over who gets the privilege of taking the movie to the counter, handing it back and forth to each other like a game of hot potato. Finally, Chrissy takes it and walks around the back of the store as if saying "Why no, I am not holding a video with a naked woman on the cover." After another 10 minutes, she gets tired of holding it, and sticks it on the shelf amongst some dramas. I turn and see it just as an older gentleman walks by, looking over the movies in the drama section. He is between me and our coveted porn, his back to me, and I can’t see what he’s looking at as he walks by. Suddenly, he stops right in front of our movie.

My mouth drops open. Oh, man!! This is gonna suck, I think to myself.

The man stands there for a few more seconds, then walks away slowly. I try to look casual as I watch him walk past, still throwing some looks back over his shoulder at the over-sized box on the shelf, then bust into laughter. Spring looks at me over one of the shelves questioningly. I shake my head and run back and grab the movie off the shelf before anyone other guys get any bright ideas.

Shortly after that, the place clears out again, and we walk to the counter with our selection. The deal had been made that Chrissy would carry and Spring would rent it and I could just stand there looking stupid (I had driven there, after all. My part was done). Chrissy placed the box on the counter, and the woman standing there took one look at us and had us permanently branded as sinners. I noticed at that moment, that she was not the woman who had come back to scream at us before, meaning that that lovely specimen hadn’t actually worked there and was just some nosey old bag that had walked in off the street.

"ID?" the woman growled.

Everybody looked at me again. I sighed, and pulled out my driver’s license.

The woman looked if over, then said, "Phone number?"

I thought to myself, There is no way in hell that I am putting this thing on my parents’ account! I was about to say the number of the apartment that Spring lived in with her friend Jennifer when I realized that I couldn’t remember the number. I looked helplessly at Spring.

"0176," she said.

The woman looked up and glared at me. "I need your phone number."

"That is my phone number, I live with her," I lied.

The woman rolled her eyes and typed in the number. "Last name?"

Stupidly, I told her my own.

"There is no one of that name on this account," she grumbled. I could tell she thought she had won.

Spring quickly told her Jennifer’s last name, knowing that it would work.

The woman looked back at her computer and pursed her lips, then grabbed the box off the counter and went to retrieve the tape. She put it in a nondescript black plastic box, took our money, then glared at us again as if to say, "Now get your filth out of my store."

I took the box, and glared back at her, biting back the urge to say, "You’re just pissed because you’re not getting any!" then walked out.

Needless to say, the movie didn’t turn out to be worth all that trouble. We watched it, each of us saying more than once, "What the hell is that???", got bored and ended up highlighting Spring’s hair and trying to keep up with the nonexistent plot at the same time. When we returned the movie, I wanted to tape a note to it saying "My lesbian lovers and I would like to thank your fine establishment for being so anal about its pornography, and treating us with such disrespect that we were unable to enjoy our 10-person orgy last night. See if we ever invite you to join." They wouldn’t let me.

Later, I was tempted to write a letter to the weekly newspaper in my town complaining about old farts that are going to give themselves coronaries because they can’t mind their own business. I thought better of it. My parents still have to live in that town, I didn’t want to make them into a scandal. Oh, my lord!! There goes those people whose daughter watches (gasp) pornography!!!!!

Spring said that that same crabby old hag had come into the store that Spring works at once and all she did was stare, as if amazed that a pornography watching hoodlum such as that could be able to hold down a job and be civilized to customers in a respectable place of business. A month later, over Christmas break, I saw that same woman in her car in a parking lot as I drove past. I knew she recognized me as she became completely rubbernecked to follow my car up the street. I smiled to myself as I watched her out of the corner of my eye, suppressing an urge to wave.

© thatweirdchick@hotmail.com February 19, 1999