Today's the annual “Secret Santa Can Suck It” gift swap hosted by the ever-charming Bee of Bee's Musings. This post is about the gift I would have bought the blogger whose name I drew if we were to actually exchange gifts.
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The clerk in the burrito-stained golf shirt smiled as I approached.
“Welcome to MockFluster," he said, "home of fake movies on imaginary DVDs. How can I pretend to help you?”
“I’m looking for a gift.”
“All righty,” he said. “You are one good looking son-of-a-gun. I’d really love to see you in a paper thong.”
“Um, thanks. But the gift’s not for me. It’s for another guy.”
He looked me up and down, licked his lips and gave me a wink.
“Hey!" I yelled. "I don’t ... I never ... It was one night in a bar and all the guy did was buy me a drink.”
“No need to apologize to me, big fella. Get your kicks any way you like. Now, why don’t to tell me a little bit about this ‘guy’ you are not thinking about naked right now then I'll see what I can do for you.”
After a few minutes of laying out the details, the clerk nodded then walked over to a shelf a few yards from the counter. He pulled down a DVD case and returned.
“I've what you need right here,” he said, slapping the plastic case like a newborn's behind. “It’s a classic tale of a man born in Cyprus to classical concert banjoists only to be whisked away in the middle of the night by a couple of gypsy IT workers. Just like in Raising Arizona.”
“Outside of the kidnapping, that’s nothing like Raising Arizona.”
"It's also nothing like what you'd expect to see in a trailer before Kit Kitteridge: An American Girl, but crazy thing's happen in life, my friend," the clerk said. "Anyway, the gypsies take the boy to Britain. Here, they raise him like their own flesh and blood, teach him their cultural quirks and their rogue trade -- secretly installing Linux systems on personal computers. For revenge!”
“Revenge against what?” I asked.
“Microsoft. The mother gypsy once saw a photo of Bill Gates in a Speedo and it made her sterile.”
“That actually makes some sense," I said. "Go on. I'm intrigued.”
“Yep, it’s a good one, huh?” he said. “Anyway, the kid – deep down he knows he’s not one of them. Then one day, he meets a traveling kebab salesman with a lazy eye. Bam! He understands! He’s really Greek! The gypsies aren’t his parents! The Mentalist is a complete ripoff of Psych and not nearly as entertaining despite its huge ratings and Emmy nominations!”
“Damn, I knew it! Why doesn’t anyone else realize this?!”
“Too numbed by overexposure to the 16 variations of CSI and Law and Order on every other channel. But back to the fake movie," said the clerk. "Our hero runs off to Greece to try to find his one true love -- this totally hot Greek news reader chick he’s been obsessively watching online in between illegal uploads and downloads.”
“That’s perfect! What’s the name of this fake movie?”
“My Big Brit Greek Geek.”
“Awesome," I said. "But why ‘big’?”
The clerk tilted his head. He looked like I had just brought him a steaming platter of lamb chops.
"No! No! I withdraw the question," I said. "Just wrap it up, I've got to pretend get this over to Brian at his blog, Brian O Vretanos, before it's too late!"
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Happy holidays, Brian! OPA! Or maybe "Windex!"
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