We're Headed Up My Mom's Ass!

Gary comes into the store 5 times a week, sometimes it's with his dad, some days he's alone. Regardless, his routine never changes. He walks over to the wall of television dvds, scans the shelves looking for the D's, as if there was a worldwide congress, that noone informed of, in which they rearranged the alphabet. He picks up the Dif'rnt Strokes box set, holds it, stares at the back, reads it as if he has no idea why the white Mr Drummond lives with the black Arnold and Willis. He laughs to kill himself each time he sees Arnold in the superman outfit with the big 'A' in the centre of his chest where an 'S' should be. He walks towards the register, holds the box set with shaking hands that look like claws. He gets as far the discount rack, pauses as if it suddenly dawns on him that he does not want to see these episodes ever again, never wants to see the episode where WKRP's Mr Carlson tries to molest Arnold, never wants to see Mrs. Garrett leave. He changes his mind, reverses the direction of his feet, and painstakingly puts the box back on the shelf. Five days a week this drama plays itself out for an audience of two.

I don't know what he'll do if someone does buy it, he'll probably lose his shit.