We had an opportunity to dip back into the List of the Forgotten, as we had already detailed the perfidy of Niantic Spatial in full. The current list is constantly being added to, and so release from this obligation may never truly arrive. Currently it stands as follows, if you would like a sort of preview:
Fruit Fucker
The food court dragon
Rex Ready
L. H. Franzibald
CTS
Twisp & Catsby
Jim
K-Reazy
"Tag urself," etc.
Brenna and Ronia can't resist an antique store, and I'm honor bound to accompany them. If popular media holds any claim to truth, Antique Stores are some of the most dangerous places in America. You never know when a mummified head is gonna shoot out of an armoire, or even a credenza if it's the head of a child or pet. You never know what hideous legacy you're exposing yourself to when you paw hungrily through all that remains of a man's life. Flying Heads trailing their sparking, hastily-regrown nervous system is the fucking ante in a place like that. You could even be dealing with the kind of Spectral Bride Situation only a true Manticore Whisperer is gonna get you out of.
You still see the china that Grandma said you'd have to pry from her cold, dead hands, terms Death clearly found acceptable. It's possible sometimes to purchase some radiation if "rad-hounds" haven't already cleaned the place out. It is a place for old things, and the last few times I've realized that one of those things is me.
I've mentioned before that the generation coming into prominence now is deeply fascinated by Analog experiences and owning media and shit. Well, one way they explore that for almost nothing is by grabbing three DVDs for five fucking dollars. They even find new things there, new to them, with nothing but the front and back of the case to go on. It's similar to the (ahem) "Japanimation" section at Blockbuster, or the game section at Toys "R" Us, a screenshot no bigger than a postage stamp guiding the investment of my babysitting money. Except they can own three DVDs for the price it might have cost to rent one. The ROI for my generation's garbage is fucking crazy.
My problem in a place like that has to do with some crazy rubric in my head that I would probably do without. Even if I saw something amazing that I would love to own - for example, the Limited Edition WalMart Exclusive Constructible Racing Game from WizKids and NASCAR that I saw once and didn't buy and now I think about it every day - the rubric falls around me like the mouse trap from the game "Mouse Trap." It basically says that the lower something is priced, the less I can bring myself to buy it. Five dollars is like a billion dollars, apparently. Technically I don't need a defunct tie-in game from a sport I don't follow. Technically.
Technically.
(CW)TB out.
