Mark was softly weeping. His
television sat on the curb, its screen shattered and frame broken. A DVD jutted
out from the built-in player on the bottom of the frame. It was one of those
movies that George Clooney stared in; Ocean’s Eleven.
Mark remembered the moment of
triumph at the CVS’s Redbox, when the film was finally available for rent. He
had been going on for weeks at the local university, talking about nothing but
Clooney. It was as if George Clooney was a language all to himself. Then last
night, the triumph was something to be celebrated.
Mark rushed back to his
apartment, ran to the living room, and prepared himself for the sacred ritual.
TV input set to built-in DVD, he proceeded to take Ocean’s Eleven from its
makeshift case. Fingers on the edges, he carefully inserted the DVD into the
slot, as if it were glass.
He grinned, beaming from side
to side, then came a loud ‘woo’ from his mouth. He waited as the player made its
small squawking noises. Few minutes later, the squawking was still going and
the screen was a generic blue.
Then his worst fears came true:
“Unable to read disk.”
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