FLASH: Holiday Discount Movie Bin

See him?  You see him.  I see him.  We all see him.  The man at the discount movie bin, furiously shuffling through the flimsy DVD cases, four days before Christmas.  
Gazes averted, berths widened; he is oblivious to other people in the Walmart around him, t'is disregard most lewd.  He is hunched over the bin like a feral thing presented with scraps it is accustomed to scavenging: I don't know if I should buy Krull for 3.99, but I'll be damned if some jerk's uncle is going to take it from me before I make the decision, and I'll be Goddamned if some jerk is going to snicker behind his uncle's back when he receives this shoddy Krull at the family Secret Santa disaster -- some jerk's uncle is not going to swipe Krull with nary a thought as to the value of his 3.99 investment just because it is four days before Christmas, and he has a list to check off.  This is Krull.  It might not be worth 3.99, but I will decide that.  Pagan, gnostic, all Gods will be dam-ned, before you will take this Krull from me.  Do I own three copies of Krull?  I do.  Do I have a pre-order in to Amazon for a Bluray Krull if and when it exists?  I do.  Do I want some snot-sipping hoodlum to chuck this Krull into a ditch behind his mom's house, and use the flimsy jacket to hide a burned disc of milf porn in?  F No, I Do Not.  I hereby nominate myself as Sheriff of the Bin; I know these great-aunts working the Walmart electronics nook still turn pages by candlelight, (pages, books, paper, Christ), they can't be trusted with this.  Christmas is for families to pretend they love each other with money.  Much like Batman, my crusade must be above the meager concerns of family and friends.  So I renounce friends and family, my place is here, at this bin.  Maybe one of these children guided safely out of my range by it's mother will look up and ask the mother, "Mother, why is that man standing like that?" 
And if that question is asked, I hope that mother will say, "Because he is the hero Walmart deserves, but not the one it needs right now.  So we will avoid eye contact with him, and pretend not to smell his jacket; he is a creepy muttering-to-himself guardian, a reptile-eyed cocoa-lipped gargoyle.  The authorities have arrived." 


(HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO Y'ALL.. ny)