Randy Meeks
Sexy Film Geek

Just A Quiet Night At The Woodsboro Video Store

Randy Meeks stared glumly out the front window, watching as the rain pounded down in the video store parking lot. "Geez. The lot could double as a set for Waterworld." He snorted. "Maybe if Costner had used it, he might have just lost an arm and a leg instead of his ass. Not that he had that much ass to lose to begin with."

Randy made another round of the floor, straightening a display box here and there. He ended up at the door, peering out again. He checked the clock, then did a double take. "Shit! I haven't had a customer for an hour and a half, and the last one rented a 99 cent special. I told 'em that keeping this place open tonight was going to cost them more in electricity and salary than they were going to pull in."

He looked at the clock again and groaned. Another hour. "Shit. By that time the streets are gonna be flooded, and I'll either have to swim, or sleep here. But if I close up early, the boss is bound to call to check, and he'll fire my ass. Why did I keep this job, anyway?"

He knew why. Because he needed the cash for when he started college next fall, that's why. He'd gotten that small scholarship in film, mainly thanks to the notoriety that had surrounded everyone associated with the 'Stab' murders last year, but it didn't cover everything.

"Oh, well. I'm not likely to have anyone in." He cast a jaundiced eye on the video monitor, which was currently showing 'I Still Know What You Did Last Summer'. "Damn it, if I have to stay here, I'm gonna watch what I want to."

He went back behind the counter and stabbed STOP, then EJECT. He tweezed the cassette out between thumb and forefinger, as if afraid of contracting something nasty, and deposited it back in its case. Then he started cruising the horror section. "Okay, let's see, what am I in the mood for? Halloween? Friday the 13th? Aliens? Too bad The Others isn't out on tape yet. Wait a minute, what's this? That doesn't looks like..." He pulled a case from behind 'The Lost Boys' and peered through the transparent plastic. "'The Lust Boys. Hot and hunky vampires. Blood isn't all they suck.' Damn, I'm glad I found this before some kid tried to sneak it past and his mom had a hissy."

He started to carry it back to the 'Adults Only' room, but hesitated. Still reading the label, he carried it up to the front, slipped it into the VCR, and punched PLAY. He leaned on the counter as the screen went from blue to black, with the title in drippy red letters. "No one's gonna come." The video opened with a poutey blonde boy rubbing himself off against a motorcycle's leather seat. "Except maybe me."

He leaned on the counter and watched with pleased interest as the tape unwound. "Not bad. Sex and horror--my two favorite things. I bet the locals would be surprised to find out that I'm bi, but hell, they shouldn't expect any less. After all, I've been mooning over a girl named Sydney, haven't I? How gender confused can you get?"

Randy got so involved trying to figure out how they managed the 69 in the coffin that he didn't notice when the huge black SUV pulled into the lot. He didn't notice till he heard the thunk of the door slamming. Startled, he jerked around to see a slight figure pelting toward the door.

"OH CRAP!" He stabbed frantically at the VCR, groping blindly in the return bin, hoping that he'd missed one. He didn't have time to go out to the shelves for a substitute. His hands closed over a tape and he ripped it out of the case, slammed it into the VCR, and hit PLAY just as the bell over the door tinkled.

The screen immediately flashed to life, and he thought, "Motherfucker didn't rewind. Well, that's a dollar fine on your ass, kiddo. What is this, anyway?" He watched as a scar faced baldy harassed some ultra-cute guy who was dressed like a typical mall rat. "Austin Powers. Or is that The Spy Who Shagged Me? Not too bad. At least I've got one hottie to look at while I wait for this guy to make his choice."

Speaking of which...

He'd stopped just inside the door, and was in the process of dripping a large puddle on the floor. In the short dash from vehicle to store he'd gotten sopping. Well, who the hell would come out in this kind of weather for a video, especially with the crappy selection they had right now. All the good ones had gone early in the evening when the weather got bad.

He was kind of short, and Randy thought he was a kid till he realized that A) he'd gotten out of the driver's side of the SUV, and B), that wasn't a kid's body. Nope. The wet clothes were clinging to him like paint, and that most definitely was not a kid's body.

"Hubba hubba. Now, if the face doesn't resemble a gargoyle..." It was hard to tell. The dark hair was short, but the rain had plastered it half across his face.

The young man walked to the counter, sneakers squelching, and said, "Ya wouldn't by any chance have a towel back there, wouldya?"

"Sorry."

"Shit. I knew I shoulda swiped one from the hotel."

"Wait a sec." Randy grabbed the roll of paper towels he used to polish the windows and ripped off a long swathe, then handed it to the customer. "Best I can do."

The boy started to blot his hair and face. "Better'n nothing. Thanks, dude."

"You're just gonna get wet again when you go back outside."

The guy wadded the towels into a ball and tossed them into the wastebasket behind the counter. "Two points. Thanks so fucking much for reminding me."

"Hey, it's why I'm here. Did you say hotel?"

"Yeah." The boy was finger-combing his hair up into spikes. "Fleabag down the road called the Woodsboro Waldorf, or some such shit."

"Wayside?"

"Whatever. Anyway, they don't have pay-per-view, they don't have cable, they have fucking rabbit ears on the box." He leaned on the counter. "So, what I'm going to do is ask you a question, and you're going to say 'yes', all right?"

"Oo, Oo, Oo! What kinda question?" "Shoot."

"Do you have VCRs to rent?"

"Much as I'd like to say yes..."

"Crap! Do not tell me that! Look, I'm on a road trip with a bald megalomaniac, a Nazi, whom I love because she's my Mom, but who is a bitch after eight hours on the road, a psychopathic midget, a prissy anal retentive who looks like the Arrow shirt man, and a fucking bald cat who still somehow managed to cough up a hairball in my lap. I got a room to myself by threatening to flash the convention of retired nuns who are occupying the other rooms on our floor, and I find out that the electronics that come with my room were outdated about the time that Uncle Miltie put on his first formal." He reached across the counter and grabbed Randy by the collar of his uniform. I need porn!"

Randy, stunned, stared into the intense green eyes that were only a few inches from his own. "You look familiar."

//"An evil vet?"//

//"YOU ALWAYS DO THAT!"//

The young man closed his eyes, as if in pain, and groaned, "Deja-fuckin-vu."

Randy blinked. "Hey! You're Seth Green!"

"I am not! I'm Scott Evil, and for the last time, I don't think that guy looks anything like me!" He paused, "Though he does look a lot like a cute guy I met a while back in Vegas." He smiled nostalgically. "I wonder if Duane ever gets mistaken for him?"

"You mean to tell me that you're the real Scott Evil? Your Dad is the one they based Dr. Evil on?"

"Oh, him they got real close."

"Shit. Sorry, man."

"It's okay. Ya know, you look kinda familiar, too."

Randy sighed. He reached under the counter and pulled out a copy of STAB. Understanding dawned in Scott's eyes. "Hey! You were involved in that big ass series of horror movie inspired murders last year! They had a character based on you in that movie."

Flipping it over, Randy pointed to a tiny photo that, along with several others, ran across the bottom of the box. Scott cocked his head. "Jamie Kennedy, as Randy, The Movie Geek." He looked up at Randy. "Did you sue?"

"I thought about it, but the lawyer said it would be considered truth in advertising. At least he does look a lot like me."

Scott considered again. "Yeah. So, we have something in common."

"Yeah. How about letting go of my collar?"

"Oh." He let go, with an apologetic pet. "Sorry, man. I'm a little edgy. Look, could you shut that thing off? I have enough of my Dad without that crap."

"I don't blame you." Randy stopped the tape and ejected it. "Okay, it's you, but what are you doing in Woodsboro? Don't you usually hang in Vegas."

"Like I told you: road trip."

"To Woodsboro? Damn, man, how bored are you?"

"You have no idea. It's my Dad's fault, as usual. Well, I guess it's a little my fault. I never should have mentioned that I thought Alex had a cool job."

"Well, that's clear."

"Okay, Alex is a friend I made a couple of months ago." Scott sighed dreamily, which made Randy look at him more closely. "Really made. Hot and cool. Anyway, he's a professional assassin. I said I thought he had a cool job, and... Well, if you watched the movie, you know how Dad's always trying to push me into the family business. He was thrilled." Scott shook his head. "I really should have known better. Dad got all excited. He decided to encourage me by taking me on a tour of assassination and murder locations. It might not have been so bad... I mean, I can give that dipshit the slip pretty easily, but then Mom decided it would be a great opportunity to do some family bonding." He groaned. "Well, we couldn't leave Mini Me alone with all the super weapons, and Number Two started whining about not having a vacation for about thirty years, and the next thing I know we're all in the Evilmobil, chugging down the highway."

"Bad?"

"Sheer hell. Mini Me has a bladder the size of a malnourished hamster, Number Two keeps wanting to visit things like the world's biggest ball of twine, Mom insists on playing Wagner on the tape deck, and Dad wants to play Signboard Alphabet."

"Ow! Hell, man, you deserve porn for putting up with that, but we don't have any machines to rent." Scott collapsed on the counter, thumping his head. "Don't be like that! Look, I tell you what... I don't think anyone else will be in before I close. I'll slip some in and let you watch it on the monitor. How would that be?"

Scott stood up. "But I can't wank off here." He smiled coyly at Randy. "Can I?"

"Uhh..." "Oh, shit! He's either flirting with me, or setting me up to kick my butt."

"Do I get a choice?"

"Sure. We had a stack of new ones come in today. I haven't shelved 'em yet because Mr. Dindleshaft insists on *harumph* checking for tape problems." He set the stack on the counter. "See if there's anything that looks interesting."

Scott started to sort through the tapes. "'Greased.' 'In the Clench.' 'Got Milked?' Pretty tame stuff." He looked up at Randy hopefully. "Where's the gay porn?" Randy swallowed hard. "Oh, c'mon. You have gay porn, don't you? Wait, this is North Carolina. Do you?"

"Well..." He placed another stack on the counter.

Scott grabbed them up eagerly. "Oh, this is more like it. 'Laid Confidential', 'Summer Camping'." He held up a box with an enraptured look on his face. "Oo, 'Laddie-Eater!'" He handed the tape to Randy and looked at him expectantly.

Randy found that for some reason he'd developed fumble-fingers. He dropped the tape, bent, and picked it up. When he straightened, he noticed that Scott's gaze had been rivited on his butt. Scott gave him a patently uninnocent grin. Randy almost dropped the tape again, but managed to get it slotted and turned on.

Scott sighed happily. "Pretty men in gladiator costumes, sweaty wrestling, and master/slave scenes. Joy. Say, wouldya mind if I came around, so I could see it better?"

"It's kinda against the rules."

"Uh huh. Well, I wouldn't want to get ya in trouble, seeing as how your boss is hanging over your shoulder."

"What the hell. Come on."

As Scott slipped around, he assured him, "Don't worry, man. Stealing would make my Dad too happy, so your cash and stock is safe." He leaned against the counter and gave Randy a sultry look. "I can't guarantee I won't try to jump you, though."

"You... uh... Look! Short togas!"

Scott whooped. "All right!" He peered closer, and frowned. "Anachronism ahoy."

"What?"

"I seriously doubt that they had jockey shorts back then. I, personally, prefer boxers, at least on other guys. Easier to get into. What do you wear?"

"Uh..."

"You can't remember?"

"Well..."

"Check."

Taken off guard, Randy started to unbutton his jeans. When he noticed Scott's avid look, he stopped. "Hey!"

Scott shrugged. "Can't blame a guy for trying." He watched the movie for a few moments. "One good thing about gay porn: fewer rules."

"Rules? Like what?"

"Well, according to STAB, you have rules for horror movies, right?" Randy nodded. "When you've watched as many skin movies as I have, you'll realize that there are rules to them, too."

"Okay, come on, Hot Shot, let's have an example."

"Okay. One rule, Sears bras and granny panties do not exist in Pornoland."

"You got me there."

"If a woman wears high-heeled pumps, even if she gets buck naked, somehow the pumps will stay on, which is hazardous if they're screwing on a waterbed."

"Huh. Come to think of it, the last orgy scene I saw looked like an advertisement for Free Spirits."

"One more. Any woman wearing a T-shirt without a bra will have nipples so hard that it looks like her breath should be frosting."

"You know, I never noticed that."

"Haven't watched much, have you?"

"Well..."

"Yeah, you were a virgin in the movie. How true to life was that?"

"None of your damn business."

"I'll be damned!" Scott yelped. "Art imitates life." He grabbed Randy's arms and started to turn him back and forth, looking him up and down.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't think I've ever seen a post-adolescent virgin before."

Randy pulled away. "That's right--rub it in."

Scott's eyebrows did a manuerver he'd learned from Austin. "I could, ya know."

"You... I..." *Pause.* "You could?"

Scott hooked a finger in the waistband of Randy's jeans and pulled him closer. "Or you could. Either way, I'm easy." Another pause. "I mean that literally--I'm very easy."

Randy gaped. "Are you coming on to me?"

"Damn, you are a virgin. Hell yes, I'm coming on to you."

"I'm just kinda surprised. I haven't exactly had people ripping my clothes off."

"You haven't? Aw, that's too bad. It's fun." He advanced on Randy, who backed up till his butt hit the wall. Scott kept coming, put his hands on the wall, and trapped him between his arms. "Look, Stud--it's late, I'm bored and horny, and you're cute. What's there to explain?"

"If we were to do anything... and I'm not saying I will, mind you... but if we do... Um, what would we? Do, I mean?"

"What, you want to draw up an itenerary? That is so unromantic. Hey, I can pitch, I can catch, or I can fuckin play short stop. I don't care. I'm just as horny as the brass section of a Sousa marching band. So, whattaya say?"

"I say that the tile is too cold, the counter is too public, and the rug is like steel wool. Suggestions?"

"Much as I hate to quote Austin--your place or mine, and keep in mind that mine is about one block away."

"Yeah, well, my place is out. Not only do I doubt we could get through the streets to my house, my Mom might be a little suspicious. In fact, can we get back to the Wayside? The water looks about knee deep out in the street."

"You see that beheamouth out there? I could probably avoid tolls by driving across rivers. So, whattaya say?"

"I'm supposed to keep the place open for another half hour..." Scott pressed against him and rubbed his crotch against Randy's. It was damp, but it was so hot that Randy was surprised that steam wasn't rising. "which any sane man would spend screwing." The store clock was right over his head. He reached up and pushed the second hand ahead. "Guess what? We just had a power failure some time during the night." He emptied the VCR and shut everything off. "Let's go."

"Cool."

Randy had an umbrella, for a miracle. He first escorted Scott to the driver's side, then hustled around and got in the passenger side. As he slammed the door, Scott turned on the engine and turned the heater up.

Randy looked around. "Wow. Nice ride."

"Ain't it, though? It's got all kinds of neat features." He stroked the seat. "Bench seat." He flipped a switch and tilted the steering column up. "Tilt steering, and..." He reached down beside his seat and pulled a lever. The back of the seat suddenly dropped. Randy, taken by surprise, fell flat on his back. Before he could catch his breath he found a damp, warm, and very squirmy Scott Evil on top of him. "Reclining seats."

"Oof! Hey, I thought..." Randy discovered that it was very difficult to speak with someone else's tongue in your mouth. When Scott came up for air, Randy gasped, "Thirty-two."

"Huh?"

Before Randy could reply the tongue was back. When he lifted his head again, Randy gasped, " *huuuuuuuuuuh* Teeth. I have thirty-two, just like everyone else, and I had my tonsils out when I was twelve."

"Did ya suck a lot of popsicles? Ya know, normally I love uniforms, but that one is butt-ugly. Let's get rid of it."

"I..." *whisk* "Damn, you're fast."

"Practise. Okay, I know it's warm in here, so I'm gonna take the hard nipples as a compliment." (lick)

*moan*

(PINCH)

"Hey!"

"Sorry." (nibble)

"Ooo..." *pantpant*

(unbutton) (ziiiip) "Well, hell-o, Randy Junior!" *giggle* "He waved."

"Oh, fuck."

"Yeah, exactly. How ya want it?"

*SQUEAK!*

"Sorry. Let me re-phrase that--How do you want me?"

*whew* "I have choices?"

"Sure. Spoons, doggie, missionary..."

"Missionary?"

"Yup. As a matter of fact, that'd be easier than usual, with the dashboard. Say, while you're making up your mind, reach back there and hand me that CD case."

"Okay." *grunt* "Wow. Nice stickers. Lots of metal bands there. I haven't seen that many umlauts in ages. Here you go."

"Thanks."

"Mood music?"

"Nope. My dad listens to new age, Mom does opera, and Number Two listens to (shudder) country/western. No one touches this." (open)

He showed it to Randy. "Uh. Astroglide and condoms."

Scott made a two fingered salute. "I was a Boy Scout just long enough to learn a few knots." He moved off Randy, knelt on the opened seat, and began to open his pants. "I'm gonna take care of getting myself open, if ya don't mind. I checked your nails, and you could use a manicure." He shoved his pants down.

"Usually I don't like people pointing at me, but now I'm flattered. Is all that really because of me?"

"Look closer and see if your name is written on it."

"Oh, I couldn't. Really. I've never done anything like that before. I..."

"Now look at what you've done. Scott Junior is crying. Give 'im a kiss to make him feel better."

"Well... Uh..." *smeck*

"Mmmm... Good start, but how about a tongue kiss?"

(lick)

"Oooooooo..."

(glomph)

*yelp* "Thank you! Hold that... uh, thought." (uncap) (squirt) (probe) *yip*"Motherfucker, that shit is cold!" *squelch* "Mm-hm."

*slurp*

"Uh, teeth."

*mmph* "Sorry."

"No, no, it's good! Just be careful." (probeprobe) (reach)"Ohhh yeahhhh."

"Huh?"

"You know about the prostate?"

"Yeah."

"Found it. Okay, pass me a condom and I'll get you ready."

"Don't bother, I can do it."

"Look, I'm not saying you're clumsy or anything, but they can be kinda tricky if ya don't know..." (rip)*crinkle*(smooth) "Hey, you did that neat and sweet."

"I've practised, too."

"Neat freak, huh?"

"My mom washes my sheets."

"Say no more. Okay." (shift) "Open for business, dude."

(shift) "Oh, geez, I can't believe I'm doing this. If this was a horror movie, one or both of us would get our throats slit any minute now."

"Yeah, well, if it was a porno movie, some other cute guy would be along to join us any minute now. I like my genre better. C'mon."

"I'm about to give up any chance of surviving to the end of the movie, so be patient." (push) *whiiiiiine* *pant* "Om'gawd!"

"Yeah, pretty nice, isn't it?" (squeeze)

*whimper*

"Ya like that, huh? Okay, let's turn this into an action flick. Get it in gear, Randy."

(assorted thrusting, humping, lunging, and bucking, increasing in speed and force)

*various whimpers, curses, obscenities, pants, moans, groans, grunts, and even a couple of embarrassing endearments we won't go into here coughsugarbunscough

(in stereo) *HOOOOOOOOWWWL!* *pantpantpantpant*

Scott fell on his face. He carried Randy down with him. "Whoa, man, not at all bad for a first effort. I give it two thumbs up. Four and a half stars."

"Four and a half?"

"You lose points for the two times you slid out. Once wouldn't have mattered. Twice means you weren't paying attention to logistics." (stretch) "Mmmm. Okay, that was a good start."

"Start?"

Scott rolled over and sat up. "Hell, yeah. You didn't think you were getting off that easy, did ya? I said we were going to my place, and we are, as soon as I can see straight again."

"Look, it may be awhile before I can come up with a sophomore effort." There was a sharp rap on the driver's side window, and Randy gave a small shriek, grabbing for his clothes. "Oh, shit! Slice 'n dice time! I knew it, I never should have lost my virginity!" *pause* "You know, if he makes it quick, it was worth it."

"Will you chill?" Scott rubbed some fog off the glass, and peered out. "He looks harmless." Scott rolled down the window. "Hey. Whassup?"

Randy heard a familiar voice. "You okay in there? Are you stranded?"

"Not exactly, cutie." *giggle* "Though I was stuck there for a minute."

Randy peered past Scott. "Oh, shit. Dewey?"

Dewey leaned down and looked closer. "Hey Randy. I was kinda worried about you when I saw this thing parked here, and the store was closed." He looked at Scott again. "New friend?"

"Real new, real friendly," Scott agreed.

He blinked. "Uh... are you two boys... naked?"

"Say, how are things going with you and Gale Wethers?" Scott asked.

Dewey scowled. "Don't mention her to me! Women. I ought to just give them up."

Scott swung the door open, and scooted over, patting the seat seductively. "Why don't you come in out of the rain, and we'll discuss your options?"

The End