Building Film

Sometimes I forget the 7 years I spent building film.

When I was 19 I got my first management position working for a three screen movie theater. The man that hired me was a great example of how to be a good manager. He was knowledgeable, authoritative, balanced and had a great sense of humor. His honesty and strong work ethic was admirable and I learned a lot from him. I remember one time I decided to get entirely too high on a lunch break and when I was back on shift he noticed immediately. Instead of reacting with moral outrage or firing me, he made a few jokes and then after I had time to come down and realize how I had put my position in jeopardy, he took me aside and had a conversation about what he expected of me and how once he was done expressing his disappointment he made it a point to not keep a grudge. That's when I learned that you can be a leader by being honest about your expectations and not let the tension create a long lasting problem. 

That theater is also where I learned how to build film. Before digital cameras and digital projectors 35 milometer film dominated the film industry and it was a lot of fun to work with. A standard movie came on about three to six separate reels that had to be spliced together to make two very large reels. Then the two huge reels were threaded onto a huge metal platter. Also, the ads at the beginning of the movie had to be added in as well as the cues for the projector to turn off and the theater lights to go down and then back up had to be added. Then the film was threaded through a complex set of rollers, through the projector and back onto another platter from the inside out. 

The reels would arrive in large metal tins containing the separate reels and trailers that would be added. Sometimes the tins would have code names so that the handlers wouldn't know what movie it was and steal it. This was always a fun part of the business because it meant that I knew something most people did not and that what I was working with was very important and expensive. After the media would arrive I would have to create the approved trailer reel. At the beginning end of a reel were many frames of black that would have to be cut off with a splicer tool and when two ends would meet I would tape them together on each side of the seam. It was important to cut exactly at the frame ends and the connect them smoothly. With 24 frames per second and about an inch per frame a two hour movie was roughly 170,000 inches or 14,400 feet (~4 miles), so it took quite a while to turn separate pieces of discrete media into one coherent presentation. 

I can remember one time, when I was first starting in the projection booth, I was alone trying to build a film late at night when most of an entire reel fell to the floor. I spent hours, cursing and sweating, trying to wind up and disentangle long lines of dark film strewn this way and that across the floor. I would often stay up until 4 or 5 in the morning previewing the films that I built to make sure there weren't any errors. I watched "The Notebook", "Veggie Tales" and many other terrible movies but I also watched some of the best movies alone or with work mates after hours where we had the entire theater to ourselves. 

I spent hundreds of hours working in dark booths manipulating hundreds of miles of 35 mm film and developed an expertise in an area that would soon become obsolete but I met a lot of great people, had great conversations and learned a lot in projection booths. I worked hard and learned most of what there was to know about the projection profession, when I wasn't distracted from my work by an amazing scene in the next great movie or surveying the theater from the booth window watching people eating entire dinners or engaging in public sexual acts. It was a time well spent but to no real end. Soon after I left the theater I worked at converted to all digital and building film changed to organizing files on a computer. There are still theaters that haven't converted and there will always be those who appreciate film and the older ways and I'm glad I got the experience of being a small part of the real film industry.

*Here are some pictures from the internet that projectionists might appreciate. 

Wait for Me

A young boy sat on a bench waiting. No one knew how long he had been sitting there or what he was waiting for. He just sat there as the sun came and went. Day after day he sat in the park as people around him went about their lives. Children ran around the fountains laughing, while others walked hand in hand never noticing the boy waiting on the bench. When it rained the boy pulled out an umbrella and sat saying nothing to anyone. When it snowed he put on a thick wool coat and sat looking out into the park as time went by.

One sunny summer day a little girl with dark brown hair and a bright red dress stood in front of the boy. The boy looked at her and she looked back at him. She smiled and the boy smiled back and just as he was about to speak she turned and ran off. He had feeling like he should have done more but paid it no mind and forgot about the girl as time went by.

A few years later, on a rainy spring day, a girl with dark brown hair and a bright red shirt walked up to the now young man and sat on the bench next to him. Without looking the young man held his umbrella over the girl's head and they both sat for a bit looking out at the deserted park. Soon the girl's parents walked over, took her hand and the young man resumed his waiting.

Soon the boy was a man and as he sat on the bench, with his wool coat and snow piled up all around him, a woman with dark brown hair and a bright red coat walked toward him. She was with someone this time. A man with a sharp black overcoat held her hand as they both stood in front of the man on the bench. He looked up as they looked down and the three pondered each other for a while. Tears began to well up in the man's eyes and as the two turned to leave the tears in the man's eyes burst down his face and as they walked away he cried.

Years later the man was now an old man sitting on a bench alone. No one talked to him or really noticed him there. Sometimes the children would see him there and make fun of how old and weird he was but that was the most attention he received. Still, he just sat waiting.

The day before his death the man sat not knowing it would be his last day of watching the world pass him by. Later, in the evening an old woman with dark brown hair and a bright red dress walked slowly toward him. She sat down beside him and leaned her head on his shoulder. The man caressed her hair and as she took her last breaths he held her. She had came back, once more, to die by his side and he sat with her until the sun came up wondering about the life she had lived and one he had not.

As the sun rose the man closed his eyes and slept for the first time. When he opened his eyes again he was looking up at the face of a little girl with dark brown hair and a bright red dress looking back at him smiling. He smiled back and as she turned to leave he stood up, held his hand out, and said, "Wait for me."

The girl stopped, turned around and said, "Come on already," and the two ran off into the sun filled park together.

30 Days of Fiction: 15

Friday was his 12th birthday and Joey was scurrying around the house frantically searching for his Nerf Auto-Blaster 3000. He looked under his bed, in the closet, in the living room closet, downstairs but it was no where to be found. His mother, June, was in the kitchen complaining to no one in particular that the dishes should have been done the night before and that it was Jemma's turn to do them but she was doing them anyway. Jemma was Joey's older sister and while his mother was quietly rebuking her Jemma was in her room talking to Stan Jones. All the while Jordan, Joey's stepfather was at work. He had promised Joey that he would make it to the birthday party at five but no one really thought he'd show up except Joey. Joey knew he would. Why would he say he would and then not, Joey thought.

Joey turned over another couch cushion and cursed, "Shit," when he saw no signs of Nerf activity.

"Watch your mouth Joey," his mother yelled from around the corner. "It might be your birthday but this is still my house," she said, but Joey could tell she wasn't really mad. She was always saying things like that. "Stay off the roof," she'd say, or, "Don't eat candy before dinner." But he knew she wasn't serious because even if she saw him disobey she'd just give him a look.

He sat on the couch and turned the TV on and flipped between channels but nothing looked interesting so he turned it off after about 30 clicks of the remote. What to do, he thought and then he remembered. He'd been wanting to climb the biggest tree in the neighborhood ever since Robert Claiborne had bragged about doing it last month in the cafeteria. When Joey had called him a liar, that day, Marcus Leonard backed up the story and threatened to punch Joey in the chin if he called Robert a liar again, so Joey knew it must be true. Since then, Joey thought that climbing the monster tree was not only possible but that if it could be climbed by Robert, a boy a year a year younger than he was, he had to try it.

Joey stood up from the couch and walked with purpose into his room to prepare. He changed into his climbing jeans, that were just his normal jeans but not the nice jeans he wore to church, these were the ones he wore after church. Then he put on his lucky blue belt, his green Hulk shirt and tied up his generic running shoes tightly. Then, his folding knife and two cards were put into his pockets and he was ready to go.

He opened the front door and yelled toward the kitchen, "I'm going outside to play!" His mom mumbled something about being back in time or something and he mumbled something back about doing what she'd said. When he opened the door he quickly turned his head from the bright light emanating from the sky and grabbed the pair of glasses on the stand to his left. They were his sister's but she never left her room anyway so why would she care, he thought. He put the red glasses on and marched out into the sun.

Joey was only a few feet down the road when, Peter Baker, a fifth grader with a speech impediment, rolled up next to him on his Schwinn bike and asked,"What ahwr you doing?"

Joey responded with,"I'm going to climb the tree," and puffed his chest out a little and marched forward.

"Well, that's stupid," Peter said incredulous of the claim. "You'wr gunna fall just like Wobewrt did."

"You're saying Robert's a liar," Joey asked not believing Peter for a second. What would a fifth grader know anyway, Joey thought.

"I saw it," Peter said and then added, "and Wobert only got up like five feet and slipped all the way down and cwied like a baby." Peter smiled remembering the scene.

"Bullshit, what do you know," Joey said as he continued to march down the sidewalk.

Peter said, "whatevewr," and rolled away up the street.

Joey continued his walk  until he reached the crest of the hill and at the top he stopped, pulled his sunglasses off and stared at it. The tree sat at the bottom of the hill nestled to the side of the road in an abandoned field standing in stark contrast to the otherwise desolate lot. It's lush green branches stretched up to the sky beckoning the sun and rain to nourish it's expansion and it called to Joey. To climb it's heights was to tame an ancient creature and have your name live on in infamy. Joey put his glasses back on and continued down the street.

Halfway down the hill another neighborhood child saw Joey walking down the road, in his resolute form, and became curious. Brad Pendleton was 11 and Brad liked an adventure. He rushed out of the the house and in no time was following Joey grilling him about what he was doing and why.

Brad jumped up and down along the sidewalk and asked, "Whatcha doing? Are ya goin to play in the lot? You're not goin to climb the tree are ya?" At this, Joey turned his head indicating that he was indeed going to climb the tree but he had no time to talk about it. Brad started to leap higher and higher and rubbed his hands together and said, "Oh, yeah! That's awesome. I wanna see this." Brad narrowly missed a mail box and continued, "You can do it, Joey. I know you can. Awesome."

The two boys continued down the street toward the vacant lot and as they stepped off the sidewalk and into the sandy lot they slowed to watch their steps. The lot was surrounded by chain link fences and trash was strewn about the area holding unknown dangers. One kid from school said the lot was covered in needles and broken glass but from Joey's perspective it was just kinda gross. Both boys still watched their steps and as they approached the base of the massive tree a boy and girl came from behind it with sticks and stones.

"What do you think you're doing," the boy said hitting his stick against his hand. He was Billy Conley, an eighth grader, and the girl was his younger, but meaner, sister, Brenda. She threw a rock at Brad who quickly dodged it and bounced behind Joey.

"I'm gunna climb the tree," Joey said trying his best not to look scared even though he was. The Conley's were bad people, his mom always said but he was determined to climb the tree.

"Bullshit, you are. Not without payin the toll," Brenda said stepping toward Joey and holding her hand out. She looked at Brad and spit in his direction and then reiterated, "money, dumbshit," looking at Joey.

"No," Joey said, but immediately regretted it when Brenda punched him in the gut.

"Not how it works," she said smiling.

"OK, OK," Joey said and pulled out the two cards from his pocket. He handed them to the girl who took them over to Billy. The two siblings looked at the cards, looked at Joey, looked back at the cards and then walked up to Joey together. Joey took a step back but stopped when he bumped into Brad who was standing too close.

"Where did you get these," Billy asked Joey, holding up the limited edition Mew Star Delta Series and Weezing Pokemon cards.

"None of your business," Joey responded hoping that would nullify the bullies.

"Alright, go ahead. Fall from the tree. See if we care," Brenda said and they parted ways to let the boys pass.

Joey and Brad stepped a few feet forward until they were a foot away from the tree and they both looked up.

"Doesn't look so bad," Brad said encouraging Joey, even though he knew he would certainly not attempt it himself.

Joey looked at Brad, nodded and then began his trek up the tree. He wedged his left foot into a crevice and raised himself up onto the first set of branches, pressing himself snugly to the trunk. He looked straight up and stepped up onto another branch and continued to pull himself up always looking at the next branch above. The higher he climbed the more he began the feel the tree sway back and forth causing him to take more time with each decision. Before long he was ten, fifteen and then finally he was twenty feet up the tree near the top. He stopped when the branches began so thin that moving up farther would be impossible and he looked out at the world from his perch.

Ahead he could see the expansiveness of his neighborhood and beyond were more sprawling endless neighborhoods stretching toward the haze of the city in the distance. All around the pavement continued and the houses never stopped. He could see the pools, play-sets and barbecues in the backyards. He could see people washing their cars and arguing with each other three blocks away but when he turned around he couldn't see his house. All he could see was an ever expanding landscape of hills, houses and patches of dessert.

Only when he looked down did the full weight of his actions hit him. He began to see the branches below spinning around the trunk as the tree itself began to twist and turn. With closed eyes he held tightly to the tree and when he opened them he could see a boy, on a bike, watching from up the block. It was Peter Baker looking up into the tree with awe and when he saw Joey looking his way he waved and then rode off down the street. Joey pulled out his knife and began to carve into the tree. He gingerly scraped out "JDG" on the side of the old bark and just as he was trying to fold the blade back it slipped from his hand and fell straight toward the earth.

Joey looked down and was shocked to see Brenda and Billy sitting on the lowest tree limbs right below him. He closed his eyes in terror and when he opened them he was relieved to see the knife sticking up in a tree limb just a foot above the girl's head. Then he made his way down the tree, gingerly feeling around with his foot as it dangled to find each new branch. Halfway down Brad and the others looked up to see Joey holding on with only his two hands, his feet kicking against the trunk but before he slipped they watched as Joey's foot found a branch and he was safe again. Soon enough he hung from a low branch a few feet off the ground and heaved himself off, landing on the dry dirt with what Joey could only imagine was a flourish befitting a gymnast.

On the ground he was greeted by Brad's praises and the two siblings looking at him in a way that indicated a reluctant but genuine respect. Joey walked home that day with Brad bouncing behind him and Peter following along side. They talked about how epic it all was and how he would be famous at school. Joey was filled with a sense of accomplishment and poise and had a smile as vast as the sprawling landscape he saw from atop the tree. The three parted ways one by one until Joey was at his door and when he opened the door to his house he was greeted by his mom sitting on the couch looking over at him with a concerned look.

"Jordan can't make it tonight," she said. "He has to work late and he said he's really sorry," she continued and stood up to comfort Joey. She hugged him and said, "I'm sorry Joey. I know you were looking forward to Jordan coming to your birthday but he has important work to do."

Joey pushed her away and ran to his room slamming the door as he entered. He fell on his bed and lay there for a few minutes thinking about what kind of a jerk says they will be at your party and doesn't show up. Why didn't Jordan want to come to his party, he thought. Joey wanted to tell him about the tree and how he climbed all the way to the top. He wanted to tell him about the knife, because Jordan wouldn't be mad or tell his mom about the knife and about the beautiful sight from the very top. Joey was mad but as he remembered his climb he remembered how he felt before he had walked in the door and he sat up in his bed. He was beginning to feel better and in the corner of the room he noticed the orange tip of his Nerf Auto-Blaster 3000.

Joey jumped off the bed and pulled the gun away from the mess of clothes and toys and examined it. On his dresser were a few Nerf bullets and he loaded the gun and looked around mischievously. He opened the door slowly and crouched down as he entered the hallway surveying the area for hostiles. His ears pricked up when he heard his sister talking of the phone in her room down the hall. He slowly made his way to her open doorway and looked inside. She didn't notice him until the Nerf bullet hit her in the side of the cheek.

"Oh my god," she screamed. "It's my stupid brother, just a second", she said and threw the phone on the bed. She turned and ran at Joey who turned down the hall running and calling for his mother. In the living room Jemma found Joey hiding behind his mom who was protecting him from her wrath.

"It's his birthday Jemma, leave him alone," June said sternly.

"Fine," Jemma said. "But I'll get you," she added and then smiled. Joey came around from behind his mom, with his head down, dropped the gun on the floor and gave Jemma a long hug.

Joey looked up at Jemma and asked, "Can I tell you about the tree?"

"Of course," she said.

"Oh, I wanna hear about the tree too," June said with enthusiasm.

June and Jemma sat on the couch and listened intently as Joey recounted his adventure taming the giant tree.

30 Days of Fiction: 14

As Wyatt looked up into the golden sky he wiped his brow and headed in for the evening after a hard day's work pounding posts into the dry land. He had purchased the land for only twenty dollars six months before but he was making quick work of the land in an effort to make it ready to grow his crops in the coming season. Corn, watermelon, potatoes, tomatoes, cucumbers and even a few apple seeds were his ticket to a good life in the untamed lands in the west. Although the rains had yet to hit he worked diligently everyday making sure his garden would be ready when they did.

A year ago Wyatt had been drinking in a saloon in West Virginia, where he was born and raised, when a man in a white top hat and matching white boots came up to him and sat down.

"You look like a smart young man," the man said with a smile. "Let me buy you a drink and tell you about a great opportunity," he continued and gestured to the barkeep who quickly brought over two tall glasses of yellow foamy liquid.

"Well, I'm not about to turn down a free drink," Wyatt said with the enthusiasm of someone who had never seen someone with such brilliant clothes. "Where'd ya get them clothes," he asked.

The man looked down at himself and said, "I got these fine linens and fabrics from the finest clothing maker in all of New York City. They fit me perfect and one day you can have clothes as fine as these, young man. I'm sure of it." 

"I doubt that," Wyatt said thinking about the five cents in his pocket, which was the sum of his savings. 

"Well, that's why I'm here. My name is Phillip Russell and I'm here to help young up and comers, such as yourself, make a better tomorrow for you and yours. Have you heard about what's happening to west of us young man," the white hatted man asked as he took a swig of beer.

"No sire. I keeps to my self mostly, when I'm not working on the farm," Wyatt said feeling stupid for not knowing. He took a drink anyway. 

"Well. That's fine. In fact that's perfect seeing as there's land out west. And it's dirt cheap if you know the right man," Phillip said. "And it just so happens that I'm the right man."

"Whatcha mean," Wyatt said with a confused turn of the head. 

"Let me explain," Phillip said excited to get to the good part. "I have hundreds of acres of land in Utah. That don't do me no good seeing as I'm here and it's just sittin there waitin for some hard working fellow to make use of it. That's where you come in. You see?"

"Utah," Wyatt asked indicating that he may not have understood much more than that. 

"Yes, son. Utah. It's a beautiful land. Has fertile soil like none other. I swear you'll make your fortune there and soon enough you'll be livin the American Dream," Phillip said leaning back in his chair.

"Well that sounds amazin. But I aint got no money for land," Wyatt said assuming he was defeated at the start. 

"Not a problem. You see. I can sell you a small portion of what I got. Let's say ten acres. And I'll sell it to you for," Phillip said and stopped to think about how much that might cost a man like Wyatt, "fifty dollars." 

"That's more than a year's work mister. Thanks for the beer but you're barkin up the wrong tree," Wyatt said.

The man in the white hat leaned over the table to tell Wyatt a secret, "For you. Twenty dollars."

Wyatt's eyes went wide with excitement and he said, "I can't pass up a deal like that. Shit. But I don't have it now."

"That's fine, son. Just pay me five dollars a month until it's paid," Phillip said with a grin on his pale face and the two shook hands.

For the next five months Wyatt worked harder than ever on the farm and helping people whenever he could. He saved every bit he could until he finally paid for his plot of land all the while doing his best to learn everything there was to know about farming from his grand father and others in town. On his final day in his home town only his mother and Phillip Russell wished him well and he set out to claim his new land with little more than a map and a paper deed. The next few months were arduous but he made it to Utah and started building his new life. 

He had managed to cobble together a meager wooden hut with enough room for a wood stove and a bed but he loved it. With just enough saved to purchase food and a few supplies he made himself a breakfast of bacon and eggs every morning before getting to work. The summer was hot in Utah and he wasn't quite sure how he was going to get the land tilled properly without a horse and as he thought about how he might accomplish more with less he noticed riders coming up over the hill toward him. Wyatt grabbed a shotgun, the one his father owned before he had died, and walked out to greet the riders.

Five men in black round hats, black vests and white shirts galloped up with their rifles trained on Wyatt. They circled Wyatt until he put his shotgun down and then the leader dismounted and walked up to him. 

"Who are ye and why are ye making camp on this land," the man in a black vest asked.

Wyatt was stunned and furious and tried to explain,"I bought this land fair an square from Phillip Russell not six months ago. I have to deed an everythin." He turned to get the deed but was struck down by the butt of a rifle. 

"That be a lie. This land is owned by God and the Mormon church," the leader said standing over a very confused Wyatt. 

"No, no. That can't be," Wyatt pleaded and added, "I have the deed. I paid fair and square."

The leader of the riders turned to the other men and said, "Burn it down," and then began kicking Wyatt repeatedly in the stomach. All of his seeds, tools and wood burned up in a few minutes and he was left there to die in the dirt. After a few hours Wyatt managed to get to his feet and he walked the few miles to the nearest village. It was the same village he had purchased supplies from and it was the same village that had informed the Mormons that "a new one" had came in looking to take their land.

Wyatt had thought it strange that there had been no saloon but now that he had no money and could barely walk it didn't seem to matter so he just sat against a building and waited. After an hour of unsuccessful begging a man with a tall black top hat and matching black boots came walking up and stood in front of Wyatt and said, "Well, you seem down on your luck, young man."

"I've had it worse than ever sir, spare a coin," Wyatt said wincing from the pain in his side. 

The man in the fancy black hat and boots took a cigar out of his mouth and said, "I've something better than a coin, son. I have a once in a lifetime opportunity for ya. Have ya heard of what's happening in California?" 

30 Days of Fiction: 13

There are times in one's life where one decision creates a multiplicity of potential outcomes. Some outcomes are good and some are bad.

I pulled into the parking lot of the skating rink to pick up my sister, Sharon, around 10 o'clock at night and waited for her to finish her sock hop dance. When it was over she got in the car and we talked for a bit about the event and drove out of town. At the time we both lived about 5 miles out of town in a rural part of North Bend, Oregon. We traveled across the large green bridge that marks the small town and pulled onto the old highway road now covered in darkness. Ahead of me was a huge black truck that was so new that any light coming off it shone brightly.

I was driving a 1985 Honda Accord hatchback with a couple hundred thousand miles on it but I had driven that road so many times that I knew I could take the truck so I decided to pass it. I pulled into the oncoming traffic's lane and stomped on the gas but so did the truck. I stayed on the side of the truck for nearly a mile along a straight stretch where I could at least see the lights of any oncoming traffic but soon the road would turn into a winding snake of darkness and danger. As the visibility of the oncoming road began to dwindle I had to decide whether or not I would continue in the lane or admit defeat and slow down to get back into the right lane.

I decided to keep going. Staying in the oncoming lane we both rounded corner after corner. This was where my knowledge and commitment began to come in handy. I knew how fast I could take each turn and the truck began to slow. My little car could handle the turns better and my commitment to the endeavor was unwavering and eventually the truck allowed me to pass and in the rear view mirror I saw it turn off down a dark side road. My heart was racing and I looked over to see my terrified sister holding on for dear life. She looked over and immediately I realized what I had put her through and I was ashamed but part of me was happy. The part that only cared about my ego and pride and I felt as if I had accomplished something. I showed that brand new truck that I was better than it.

*I decided to keep going. I stayed in the oncoming lane around the first corner going near 60 miles an hour when it was hardly safe going 30 miles an hour. Tight turn after tight turn I continued until out of the left side of my vision a bright light appeared and grew brighter than the sun. I slammed on the brakes but it was too late. The truck to my right had also slammed on their brakes and I had no where to go. With a crash the oncoming lights collided with the front end of my small car as metal, glass and flesh were ripped apart at the seems.

I woke up with blood pouring out of my head and looked over to see nothing in the passenger seat. I looked up to see the windshield in shreds and a body lay on the street a few yards up. The sun had dimmed as the other car had fell into the ditch to the left. My seat belt was pressing into my chest but I struggled and broke it loose. I exited the car out of the mangled door and walked up toward the body lying lifeless on the road. Seeing the long dark hair and small stature I knew what I was seeing. My sister lay there bleeding and as the adrenaline began to subside my body began to shake. I ran to the nearest house to call an ambulance but it was too late. My ego and pride had done it's duty and my sister had paid the price.

*I decided to keep going. Still in the left lane as the first turn came I could see the truck slow down. My car was better at the sharp turns and I knew them so well I could push my speed to the max. Just as I thought that I would overtake the truck a bright light appeared from ahead. Without thinking I stomped on the brakes and jerked the wheel to the left launching the car into the forested ravine that lined the dark road. The car flipped onto it's back and tumbled over and over until it was stopped by a large fir tree with a crash. When the ambulance finally came they were unable to save the driver but the passenger wasn't so lucky. My sister was taken to the hospital where, after a brief coma, she was left with severe brain damage and would never speak again.

*I decided to slow down. I slowed to the consternation of my pride and pulled back into the right lane. I turned to my sister, who was relieved at my decision, and said, "I could've taken it." We talked and laughed about how my car was such a piece of shit and arrived home safely. I was never haunted by my decision that night.

30 Days of Fiction: 12

"I don't know anything about this but I emailed my grandson and I couldn't get that to work. So I had my janitor help me with the email.  But then my grandson, he's 14, he said he wanted the new army game, Call of the Battlefield, or something," the old woman droned on.

"So, your grandson wants Call of Duty," I asked starting to lose patience.

"Yes, yes. I think that's it," the old bag continued.

"Ok, What system is it for?" I asked, hoping she would not deliver another diatribe of nonsense.

"What do you mean?" the old one said not knowing what I was talking about. 

"Is it Xbox or PS4?" I asked.

"Oh...I don't know," she said staring into space. 

"Ok. Can you call someone to find out?" I asked noticing a line forming behind the oldest lady ever. 

"Um, I don't know. I don't have my phone on me," she said looking like she'd never thought about solving this type of problem before. 

"Ok. I have a bit of a line so if you can ask your grandson exactly what he wants we would love to help you with that," I said as nicely as possible.

"Yes, thank you so much for your time," she said looking back at the people staring at her not accomplishing anything. 

The old lady waddled out and the next customer came forward. 

"How are you," I asked with a forced smile.

"I'm looking for Leap Pad mini, where is that," a 30 something female, with long black hair, asked. 

"We don't sell that product, unfortunately. I think you can get them at Wal Mart," I responded looking behind her at the line continuing to grow. 

"No, you sell it because I saw one the other day. Or maybe I was online. Just a sec," she said putting her finger up and pulling out her phone. 

She tapped on her phone a few times and then turned it over to show me my error. The screen showed a Leap Pad mini for $129.99 indeed but the website was Toy R Us. 

"That's the Toys R Us website," I said with a twinge of righteousness. 

"Oh shit, OK never mind," she said and turned around and made her way out. 

Next in line was a greasy looking white kid with a superman t-shirt. 

"Do you have the new Tenkei Ichi Domo Cha Cha," he said assuming I knew what that was. I did not. 

"What is that for," I asked preparing to type the name into the database.

"It's for 3DS of course. You work here and don't know Tenkei Ichi Domo Cha Cha," he said adding a laugh to his smugness. 

"Nope, I'm not seeing it in the system," I said looking up at the overweight teen. "It might not be out in the US yet. Sometimes these kinds of games get released in Japan well before they come out here."

"I don't know. I could buy it on Amazon but I wanted to buy it from you," the genius said. 

"Yeah, sorry. Maybe check back later or check our website," I said as he turned around in a witless huff. "Thanks," I added as he left. 

Then, a man is his mid to late 20's came up and I hoped it would bring some normalcy to the conversation. 

"Hi, How are you," I asked.

"I'm fine, how's it going," he responded in kind.

"I'm well, what can I help you with," I asked starting to feel like the world wasn't a complete shit hole.

"I'd like to pick up the new Diablo 3 game, I heard it's really good. What do you think," the reasonable man asked.

"I think it's great actually," I said turning around to grab it from the shelf. "I played it when it first came out and it's really fun. Lots of action and good graphics. The best thing is four person couch coop," I continued.

"Couch coop, what's that" he asked.

"Oh, it means that up to four people can play on the same screen at the same time. Or you can play online or any combination. It's pretty cool and not a lot of games have that nowadays," I said happy to inform someone of something. I decided to give the man a break so I found the used version of the premium edition and put it on the table. 

"Oh that's great," he responded.

"So, I happen to have a pre-owned version of the premium edition with all the ad-ons and it's only three dollars more than the new one without the ad-ons. Do you want to go with that," I asked showing him the cases to emphasize the difference. 

"Oh yeah! That's awesome. Of course," he said with jubilation.

"Great, anything else coming out your looking forward to," I asked as I rang up the purchase. 

"No, not really. I don't play a lot anymore but my friend said I had to get this one and I loved the older one, so," he remarked.

"Cool, well if there is anything else you're looking forward to you can pre-order it and get some bonuses and what not. Just something to keep in mind," I said finishing up the payment and handing him the bag with the game. 

"Cool, well thanks and have a good one man," he said as he took the bag, turned and walked out. 

"Next please," I said noticing that the person in line was standing back and talking with their friend. They were middle aged hillbilly looking white trash folk so I assumed it would be a fun conversation. 

"How can I help you," I started it off friendly enough.

"Well, I bought these games last week and they don't work. Also, I bought this headset and it's broken already," the man with the dirty white shirt and not so many teeth explained. 

"OK, so none of this worked," I asked looking at the perfectly fine items on the counter. 

"Nope, and I want a refund," the beer bellied man retorted.

"Alrighty, do you have your receipt," I asked cordially.

"Nope. Can't you look it up," he asked, the smell of cigarettes, booze and something else emanating from behind his cracked lips. 

"Unfortunately without a receipt," I began but was quickly interrupted.

"Nope. I've done it before here and it was no problem. I bought it from some girl yesterday and she said I had 7 days to bring it back," he said his rehearsed line. 

"That is normally the case, but we can't do a refund without knowing how much you paid and how you paid," I explained looking the man in his shit colored eyes. I could see he was about to respond poorly so I offered, "But if you just want an exchange for something in the store I can do that."

"Oh, well I don't want to do that, is there someone else I can talk to," he said looking around. 

"Nope. I'm the manager and without a receipt I can't give you a refund. I'm sorry," I said sternly. 

"Fine, Fuck," the man exclaimed and grabbed up the items on the counter, bagged them up in an Wal Mart bag and walked out mumbling to his equally dissatisfied friend. 

I looked up to see my replacement walked in the store as the next person came up to the counter. This time it was a young boy who had a game and some cash in hand. I took the game and began finding the disk for it when I asked,"Do you have a parent or guardian with you because this game is rated M."

"They are out in the car, I can go get them," he said meekly.

"Yes please, can you go do that or else I can't sell this too you," I said holding the game up. "I'll hold it for you," I said and put the game on the back counter as he left the store. 

The next person came up as my replacement came up to clock in and said, "Hey, what's going on?"

I stepped back and turned to say hi. "Not much, same old stuff," I said. "Are you clocked in," I asked.

"Yup," he said.

"Ok, this game here is for a kid who is getting a parent, otherwise just stay on till and help customers. I have to go in the back and get something done," I said.

"Hello!"

My associate and I turned to see a large, gross looking woman at the counter staring at us. 

"I'm waiting," she continued with her fat face.

"Ok, Sorry about that. Just getting him caught up. He's heading over now," I said looking at my associate with wide eyes and then walked into the back room. 

I sat down at the desk and ate a granola bar deciding what projects needed to get done that day, making notes on a pad of yellow paper. A few minutes later my associate opened the back door and asked with a somber tone, "How's it going?"

"Fucking stupid," I said. "These fucking white trash retards come in here and fucking don't know what the fuck is going on," I said while my associate started to smile. "I had a lady come in and say we had something and when she looked it up it was from fucking Toys R Us. Not us you fucking idiot," I continued my rant. 

"Yeah, people are dumb. That kid never came back by the way and that lady who was in such a damn hurry left her credit card. So she'll be back, I'm sure," he said looking into the store to see if anyone had come in.

"Yeah. Well, whatever. Just a bunch of tards. I had one cool customer, though. We've got a lot of shit to do today," I said changing the subject. "Shipment hasn't come in but it'll be huge and we have a plano-gram to get done, but Kelly is in at one and I'm here till six so we'll just keep getting it done one thing at a time," I explained. "How are you, John" I asked remembering there was another human in the room. 

"I'm tired. Stayed up way too late playing Overwatch," he said looking tired. "Well, I'll get back to it then," he said and walked out to the front.

I got up and as I walked out the front of the store I turned to John and asked,"Want some coffee?"

"For sure, thanks," he said with pep before continuing to help his customer.

I walked out to get some coffee. 

30 Days of Fiction: 11

In a dark room, only lit by the forge fire, James Armstrong pounded his hammer against the flat steel that would later be an implement of death for the king's army. His first born son Jesse sat in the corner with stone cold attention on his father's work. He would soon be learning the trade and was already a happy helper fetching tools and steel even when they were too heavy and all he could do was drag them along the floor to his father. James had worked night and day for months to fulfill the order but was still not quite finished the night before the king's men were to come to pick it up.  Axes, shields and spear heads lay filling wooden boxes but one last box lay open and only half full as James sweated and toiled the night away. 

James woke up at dawn the next day to continue working but as he entered the shop the king's men were pulling up and dismounting from their horses. Their elaborate armor and swords shimmered in the sun and faded as they walked into the shade of the dark shop. The leader of the pack, Sir Garth, disregarded James' cordial welcome and walked past him examining the boxes and counting the items in each box. 

"Lookin' good so far," Sir Garth said, "But I'm still countin'," and looked over at James with a crude smile.

James looked down hoping that Sir Garth's counting abilities were not as adept as his swordsmanship. As Sir Garth made his way around to the front he noticed the half empty box of swords. James made a glance at Sir Garth but averted his eyes quickly. 

"Looks like ya missing some, aye," Sir Garth asked with a wry smile. He then kicked over the box and began to count swords as they strewn about the dirt floor.

"I've been working non-stop since I been given the order Sir," James tried to explain his position but as he attempted to continue another man, in full knight's armor, punched him in the gut.

"You shut your mouth," the man said as James gasped for air. 

Sir Garth finished his counting and walked over to James until their faces were within inches. 

"The king ordered you to make 25 axes, 25 shields, 25 spear heads, and 50 sharp swords. I only count 35 swords here," Sir Garth said as he pulled out a dagger from a sheath behind his back. 

"I'm sorry sir, I will finish the rest in no time," James pleaded as Sir Garth smiled and brought the dagger up the his chin. "I swears to ya," James continued. 

"NO!"

Just then a cry came out from behind the door to the home attached to the shop. Sir Garth walked over to the sound and opened the door revealing young Jesse Armstrong, who had been watching from the crack in the door. 

"No," James whelped as Sir Garth grabbed the boy by the arm and pulled him into the room and as he attempted to make his way toward the boy he was punched in the gut again. He doubled over and the now man that had hit him twice held the back of his neck. 

"Well, this is perfect," Sir Garth said looking at James' worried face. "No one makes the king wait," Sir Garth explained and then put the dagger to the young boys neck and slid it across effortlessly until blood poured violently down the boy's dirty brown shirt. 

"No!" James exclaimed and struggled to free himself of the large knight's grasp who eventually let go. James crawled over to his dying son and held him in his arms. 

"Come get this shit," Sir Garth said and waived over two peasant men who promptly ran over from their cart and began hauling the boxes and filling up the cart. James sat with his son in his lap while they finished up and as they walked out to the street Sir Garth turned around and said,"You owe the king 15 swords. You have two weeks or I do the same to your wife." Then he turned and they all rode away. 

That night James and his wife, Mallory, wept as they made their way to the plot of land, on the outskirts of the village, where the peasant folk were allowed to bury their dead. James dug the hole, placed his son inside and covered the boy in dirt. Mallory placed a large stone at the head of the mound. Etched in the stone read Jesse Armstrong, 9 Years. As the two forlorn parents looked upon the mound of dirt that covered their beloved son, James turned to Mallory and with a look of pure hate and determination said,"They will pay for this." She looked back at James not with glee but with sadness knowing that there was no convincing him otherwise and that soon she would likely be burying him as well. 

The next day James went back to work hammering and shaping steel with more determination than ever. He didn't stop to eat and only stopped for water when his body forced him to. He kept on like that for eight days until the 15 swords were completed and then he went to work on a 16th. He spent the next five days perfecting this final sword making sure to fold into each layer a measure of hate. Back and forth into the flame it went until it was stronger than any sword he had ever made before and as the sun came down on the 13th night he sharpened it to an edge that could shave a pig's belly clean. 

In the morning James was roused from the sound of clomping hooves coming up the path by his house. He turned over and gestured for his wife to stay where she was and be quiet. Instead of going through the door to shop to meet the king's knights he went to the back door and climbed up the ladder to the roof. On the roof awaited his new blade resting on a pile of fresh hay. He clenched the sword firm and walked to edge of the roof where he saw Sir Garth was already inside the shop who  began pound on the door to the house. 

"Hello!," Sir Garth yelled into the door but no one answered. 

Below James were two other men standing on the cobble stone street peering into the dark shop. Without delay James dropped onto the one that had held him down and made him watch his son die and drove his blade downward through the top of his helm and into his torso to the hilt. The man fell to his back and as James pulled the sword out of him the other knight turned and drew his sword. James turned just in time as the knight swung over his head but as he did James held his sword to block and the knight's sword was cut in half, the top half of which sliced a shallow cut across James' face. The knights eyes went red as James thrust his sword through the knight's sternum and as the man fell blood sprang out from the hole in his chest. 

Sir Garth made his way to the fight and just as he swung sideways James rolled left and got back to his feet. They faced each other on the street, the blood on James' face glistening in the morning sun. Sir Garth sprang forward lunging at James but James knocked the sword to the side and swung back striking Sir Garth in the shoulder causing a grunt of pain. Sir Garth turned and swung sideways but James jumped back just in time to miss being sliced at the waist. They both stepped toward each other and as James swung downward with all his might Sir Garth tried to block the hit but found that his blade was not strong enough and was struck deep where the shoulder meets the neck.

Sir Garth fell to his knees with the sharp sword sticking out of him and as he stared into James' eyes he knew he was finished. James walked up and leaned down to whisper into Sir Garth's ear, "Your first born will not live to see the morrow," and pulled his sword out with a flourish. Sir Garth fell to the ground and as blood spewed from his neck two men pulling a cart trotted by and as they passed James they gave him a nod.