Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Blade Runner, contd.

"Hey, Sherlock. What theater are you in today?"

"Hey, Russ. Five. I am so tired of Chicken Little." Aimee pulled her head out of the storage cabinet, a Mormon family-size tub of mustard clutched to her chest. Russ was leaning over the counter looking down. She glanced down herself to make sure nothing was showing, then stood up.

"Oh, wow, that is so excellent!" Russ didn't move, and the couple behind him moved over to the self-serve candy display. He grinned at Aimee like a man who just found a vorpal sword, no traps. "Did you make those, or did you find them in a theater?"

Aimee gave her head a little shake. The two little water bombs she'd attached to ear wires bobbed wildly, silently, between her jaw and her hair. "We're experiencing a huge upsurge in Blade Runner leavings, right? So I figured we should take advantage of the last two days of the long weekend. Good idea, huh?" She shook her head again, grooving to her origami coup.

"It's effin' brilliant, Aimee." "I can trade with you if you want, and work theater five if you want to do concessions. He won't see your earrings if you're in the projection booth."

"Ugh, concessions. But yeah, sure. Anything for the investigation, right?" She put the mustard in the dispenser.

"So, hey, ah, speaking of investigations," Aimee looked back at Russ, who was now rocking back on his heels, holding onto the edge of the counter and studiously examining something on the ground by his feet. "We're–my roommates and I, Jeff and Dean and his girlfriend Carol–we're having a Basil Rathbone retrospective at our apartment Saturday night after work. If you wanted to come by that'd be cool." He was still looking at the floor. "We'll probably order a pizza."

Aimee smiled a crooked smile. "Wow, thanks, Russ. I know you take these retrospectives seriously. But usually when I'm off work I don't feel like watching a bunch of movies." She reached down for a tub of ketchup, and looked up into his face. "I guess it's another reason this job sucks. But thanks."

Russ's eyes darted briefly into contact with hers before slamming to the floor again. "Oh, hey, you know I just thought of you because I've been calling you Sherlock. Hey, some other time, maybe."

"Yeah, maybe some other time."

"I gotta go screen Doom." Russ swung away from the counter and hurried across the lobby. He tilted his head back and shouted, "Lemme know if you find him!"


Chemical Billy said...

Mormons, Mormons, Mormons!

But - what are "water bombs"?

Bones said...

Here's what a water bomb looks like. I've never put water in one, but if they can make for festive tiki-wear if you string them into a necklace, should you ever bust out the mai tai mix and macadamia nut clusters.

Coming from a little, three-person family, I used to be astonished at the jumbo sized cans and jars of food at my friend Pam's house. A Honda Civic's worth of Hi-C or Ragu.

Chemical Billy said...

Oooh, groovy.

Yeah, I came from what qualified in Utah as a small Mormon family (only 6 kids, plus 2 fosters).

Just a few weeks ago I was back in Utah for a memorial service. My sister-in-law edged up to me afterward as people were mixing and murmured, "Only in Utah would you hear a young mother say apologetically, 'I only have four kids...'"

Bones said...

Is not the very last line in the "Raising Arizona" one of the best movie lines of all time?

Chemical Billy said...

Dude! Totally:

"Where all parents are strong and wise and capable. And all children are happy and beloved. I don't know. Maybe it was Utah."