Thursday, June 17, 2010

Mammon of Miscreants IV

If there was ever a retail twilight zone, clearly I'd stepped over the threshold and directly into the eye of the depraved. Truly a screaming stereotype of what a porno shop was, I was like a babe vulnerable within the confines of a perverse carnival. Walking down the dark, dingy corrider I glimpsed upon video box covers among the hundreds roughly the size of your standard 8 1/2" x 11" sheet of paper. Shamelessly illuminated on these surfaces were every preference, taste, fetish, fantasy of filth imaginable.

Each of my steps were slower, seemingly trudging through bewildered and awe-struck quicksand. My conscience told me to pay no attention, yet it was like a hideous wreck passed on the highway where you cannot fix your gaze away. The further I delved the more debaucherous the scenery became. Gang bangs, orgies, freaks of nature, my first dose of hardcore homosexual imagery shocked and turned my nervous, empty stomach seeing a copious pool of ejaculate drizzle from a pretty boy's face as he had a cock mere inches from his nose roughly the size of my forearm.

The vibe I felt within this eccentric emporium was one of nervousness and near skittish behaviour. I nearly bumped into a man with shifty eyes concealed behind pop bottle glasses and a greasy mop to match as my continously adjusted his spaghetti stained track pants. Turning the corner I was vaguely proud of myself for going through this, yet something told me to run and run like the wind. On a particle board shelving unit a collection of 3D movies and glasses caused me to bulge my eyes in disbelief, recalling the previous spectacle was already one dimension beyond what I was prepared to see.

Toys with grainy photograped covers with sleazy, cheesy catch phrases inhabited the shelf beneath. Apparently an inflatable doll called the 'Rich Bitch': "An uptown girl with downtown tastes." In spite of my anxiety I laughed heartily. At least two jittery customers jumped and scattered towards the back door, thinking I was laughing at their expense. Wow this was some hyper-sensetive environment. I felt my ears burn from blushing such a crimson red. Looking down at the bristle-less grey rug, I took another deep breath and wondered what a viewing room was and tried my best to ignore the venomous screeches and squeals from beyond the door.

Approaching the main showroom I was somewhat relieved things looked more professional and out in the open. Three glass show cases shaped in an L fashion housed the behind the counter area. Thousands open thousands of cassettes were stored there, a library to correpsond with the mesmerizing films showcased. Behind the counter clacking away on a dot matrix computer was perhaps the loudest, larger than life stereo type within the whole facility. All of about 5'2" and 85lbs soaking wet stood a fraile and malnutritioned yet peppy and bubbly clerk. He was entering the VHS movies into the system and grimaced from time to time. Sporting what I call an old school Hulk Hogan hairdo, he was as bald as the day he was born up top and desperatly clinging onto any folciles at the back in the form of a dirty blonde, scraggily pony tail.

Steadying my shakng hands and clearing my throat, I stepped aside from the bargin bin, which boasted 1 for $14.95, 2 for $12.95 eac and 3 for $9.95 each, even the spine of each title appeared to be even more outrageous than the product on the floor.

"Excuse me?" I asked in a soft tone.

"Aw yes searle, what can I do you for today," responding in his spontaneous on the surface, yet transparently rehearsed speech I knew before asking this was the Mitch Savoy I was supposed to meet. Was I actually supposed to respect this guy?

"I'm here to see Mr. Savoy. I have a 10:00 appointment."

"Ohhh riiiight. Dan is it? Sooo you're the little pervert that's going to save this store," he grinned and flashed tobacoo stained corn niblet like smile. I was a touch caught off guard how he could look at me yet look in two different directions at the same time. Something about this guy was off, way off.

"It's Dave actually, Dave Gammon? We spoke on the phone an-" cutting me off he laughed an uproaringly offensive, brash laugh and beckoned him to give him just two shakes and he'd be right with me. I was amazed to find myself replying politely, sure thing and proceeded to browze within the showcases, having no idea what it was I was looking at.


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