The Saddest Compromise in the World

Ptichka and I, armed with a coupon, went to the local video store to rent a couple of movies for Valentine's Day. We're both taking the day off. (Why I have volume 4 of The History of Czech Literature open on my lap is beyond me.) The movie pickings were slim. We wanted fluff that we could watch together. For a little over half an hour, we wandered through the new releases followed by a loud, greasy, grey-haired fellow in combat boots who talked loudly on his cellphone, while taking a vocal interest in our possible choices. Talent comes in all forms. I rejected Mean Girls and The Bourne Supremacy. Ptichka rejected King Arthur and Anchorman. We both rejected The Grudge and Kill Bill Vol. 2. We were losing hope so we grabbed Kitchen Stories and The Saddest Music in the World. Well, we tried.


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