Once upon a time someone thought to drop or boon a lowly, restless shopgirl with not enough time on her hands-- really, very little covering her hands at all-- into a place where movies, movies, films galore writhed at her fingertipses, all play-me, watch-me. And people would come to this ocular, audio-visual temple and beg for chips of the stack, or reverently place borrowed love or funny in the holy offering plate (a grey plastic tub with a pillow in the bottom, mind), and she would guide them like tommy to their favored flashy-lighted, ping-ping-ping selection. Or just whatever they had to watch for film studies, dopey co-eds.

And they thought to pay her for this.

Yes.

<<agé chose>>

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