Jonesy, Max, and Jamie turned to the entrance of Popcorn Video. Max, already growling and bristling.
"Fuck off, Farley! You know the two of you are banned!" Max barked.
Hands tucked into the pockets of her brown, leather bomber jacket, Farley sauntered in, followed by her ever-present pal, Greg, who was always dripping in denim.
Greg lifted his aviators, looking at Farley, "I thought you said our ban ended today?"
"I just re-upped it." Jonesy smirked.
"It's a lifetime ban, Greg." Max snarled.
"Damn, homie," Farley smiled and bat her blue doe-eyes at Max, "Why are you guys always pickin' on us?"
"Fuck off, Farley." Jonesy reiterated.
"I'm just kidding! You guys are always so sensitive," Farley looked at her nails, "But, Chain-Slaughter does in fact suck."
"You suck!" Max hopped off the counter.
"Why are you trying to waste this beautiful young woman's time?" Farley looked Jamie up and down, "Chain-Slaughter has nothing to say, all it is is gratuitous violence, pointless tits, and bad acting."
Greg chimed in, "It's ugly, exploitative trash. The special effects are dated, the characters are one dimensional, and the slasher, the star himself, commits the greatest sin of all -"
Farley smirked, "He's boring." She wandered from the counter into the aisles, browsing the rentals.
"It's no surprise that these townie fucks like degenerate trash like Chain-Slaughter." Greg snorted.
"You say "degenerate trash" like it's an insult." Max scoffed.
"Townies? You both still live here!".
"Um, we go to Farside University!" Greg corrected her.
"Farside is literally a town over!"
"They're so jealous, it's sad." Farley called from the comedy section. "Ah! Here's a film! An actual movie about something." She came back over to the counter on her own time and handed it to Jamie.
"Mrs. Doubtfire?" Jamie was understandably confused.
"Mrs. Doubtfire is "about something?" Jonesy nearly rolled her eyes right out of her head.
"Shyah! It's about divorce, trauma, gender, identity, it's about how Reagan's "nucular family" is a joke in this modern '90s world, dipshit." Farley could not have been more serious in her critique.
"What's Chain-Slaughter about? Murder and titties? Grow up." Greg backed up his counterpart.
Max grabbed the copy of Mrs. Doubtfire from Jamie's hands and hurled it across the store. "That's it! I've had it! It's time to take out the trash!" Max cracked his knuckles and advanced on Greg.
Instead of clutching the lapels of Greg's jean jacket, Max was surprised to find he was instead holding a bright yellow piece of paper.
"I almost forgot!" Farley's laugh sounded like a duck that needed medical assistance, "Our band is playing at the Silver Mine tomorrow night. We wanted to personally invite our old pals."
"You guys are playing the Silver Mine?" Jonesy was stunned. "How that fuck did that happen?"
"Oh, we're getting quite the following. We've toured all over Farside, a bunch of college parties, a lot of choice gigs, honestly. Word's gotten out, what can we say?" Greg shrugged.
"Italian Wedding is da bomb." Farley winked at Jamie.
"Italian Wedding" is the name of your band?"
"Nothing gets by you, honey." Farley looked at Jonesy, "Smart and fine, right?"
Jonesy could feel herself getting sweaty again. "I thought you guys were a Counting Crows cover band?"
Greg turned up his nose at Jonesy, "We've matured since then."
"You know, "maturity?" to be fair, I can't expect either of you to quite grasp the meaning of that word. I mean, shit, neither of you have changed since high school." Farley sneered.
Max furrowed his brow, Jonesy raised an eyebrow, "We literally graduated from high school last year."
Max crossed his arms, "And joke's on you, I dropped out senior year!" He smiled confidently, nodding at an exasperated Jonesy.
Farley and Greg cackled at the duo.
"Well, this has been fun, but I gotta get going guys." Jamie pulled the ripcord on this awkward situation.
"Oh! Should I cash out the three Chain-Slaughters for you?" Jonesy tried to regain her professional demeanor. Farley scoffed.
"Um. Actually, you know, I'm gonna think about it? I'm pretty busy right now for four and half hours of blood and... all that other stuff," Jamie tried to be as polite as she could as she made her way to the exit, "But, like, have fun tonight you two, okay? I'll see you around, Jonesy."
Jing-a-ling!
Jonesy slowly turned towards Farley and Greg, narrowed her eyes, "Get the fuck out." She threatened through gritted teeth.
"What??" Farley looked nervous, but regained her malicious composure, "Oh...oh no. Wait," She started chuckling, "Did you...did you think you had a shot with Jamie fucking Reynolds?? Oh, sweetie..." She pouted mockingly, "That's maybe the saddest thing I've ever heard."
Max was starting to feel his brain getting all staticy, "Jonesy can get any girl she wants! She's the radioactive love child of Henry Rollins and Sarah Connor wrapped in barbwire and deep fried in motherfuckin' rainbows!"
"You should really have your dog neutered, Jonesy. He's all neurotic and aggressive."
Jonesy snapped her fingers, "That explains Greg, I guess."
"You know Reynolds has a boyfriend right?" Greg chimed in, "She's not gay, she's just high all the time."
Jonesy blushed.
"Let me give you some free advice, Jones," Farley leaned in close, "You'll always be a lonely loser with that anchor hanging around your neck. I know you're a virgin, but Christ, have you ever even been kissed?" They looked each other in the eye, "Don't you want to accomplish anything in your life?"
Jonesy was quiet. Sweaty and red in the face.
"Grow up. Scrape him off." Her eyes and Max's making contact as he raged inside. "There are a lot of open minded women in college. I could introduce you. Just sayin."
Farley and Greg made their way to the exit, the latter slapping and sticking the flier to the window.
"I really hope you can make it." Farley made prayer hands, then turned them into middle fingers before disappearing through the door.
Jing-a-ling!
Their braying laughter echoed through the strip mall parking lot as the sun began to set.
"And stay out!" Max yelled after them. "Pfft. Fuck those fucking fucks, Jonesy. No accomplishments! No accomplishments she says?? Then what do you call this?" Max ran around the counter, reaching underneath, and pulled out a Popcorn Video rental. "Check this shit out!"
He tossed the tape to a very quiet Jonesy.
"What is this?" She said, turning it over, "Dude, is that a copy of See You Soon??" She brightened up, but suddenly something about the box didn't feel right. She turned it over in her hands, the corners looked like they had been gnawed on, and part of the plastic casing was torn.
Max's triumphant grin began to waver, the longer he watched Jonesy inspect the box, "What? What is it?"
Jonesy looked up at her oldest and best friend, "Um. Hey, Max?"
"Yeah, Jonesy...?"
She opened the case, already knowing what she would find, "It's empty, dude."
YOU ARE READING
Opening Day
HumorA slice-of-life comedy set in 1996. Platonic life-mates Jonesy & Max prepare themselves and stand in line for the premiere of the next installment of their favorite horror franchise. Hang out with these two dummies as they deal with life, love, frie...