I found myself standing in a video store yesterday, staring at the newly released "The Adventures of Indiana Jones," DVD collection.
In my one hand was a DVD collection of Rutger Hauer movies - the equivalent to a bag of sand or manure. My head turned to either side so as to make sure no one saw me. Sweat began to collect at my brow.
As fast as I could, I made the switch. A smile graced my face because the treasure I had sought for so long was now in my possession.
I began to walk away from the stand when, suddenly, the $50 it would cost me to buy the four DVDs caused the store to rumble and the ceiling tiles to begin to fall. I made a mad dash for the glass doors, evading shoppers as if they were ancient booby traps.
The shoppers threw punches, a few good ones landing on my jaw and my kidneys. A 63-year-old woman muttered something about my parents, sex and barnyard animals, so I kicked her in the shin.
As she fell to the ground, I stood on her back. The extra height allowed for me to grab a sign hanging from the ceiling. I swung myself to safety - just in front of the cash registers.
My guide (Jake Bristol, the guy who lives down the hall from me) was far ahead of me - already past the cash registers. He demanded I toss him the collection and in return I would have safe passage to the parking lot with my treasure.
Knowing I only had $4 to $5 dollars and a lint-covered mint in my pocket, I tossed him the collection.
Unfortunately, all my guide did was say "adios muchacho," and run for the front door.
With minutes to get to the other side, I took a wild leap over a cashier and barely cleared the front of a hot soccer mom's shopping cart. I pulled myself to safety by grabbing onto a stand of Duracell batteries and repair kits for glasses.
I only got a few feet before I noticed my guide had been caught in an argument with a couple of football players he bumped into and then mouthed off to. I grabbed the DVD collection from his hand and started running for the doors. Behind me was an army of customers and employees, chasing me down as if they were a huge boulder.
Things were tight.
But with a quick sprint and a flying kick to the device that tells the doors to open for people as they leave the store, I got through the glass doors - my pursuers trapped on the other side.
My quest had ended, but not happily.
To my surprise a René Belloq-type greeter was standing before me, with an army of cart boys.
"Once again, Dr. Byron, there is nothing you possess that I cannot take away," the greeter said, swiping the DVD collection out of my hand.
"Too bad the cart boys don't know you like I do," I replied.
"Maybe you could warn them, if only you spoke cart boy," he said, turning around to show them the DVD collection.
As the cart boys bowed before the greeter, I made a mad run to the parking lot.
The greeter, noticing me take flight, told the cart boys to end my life. So not only had I lost my DVD collection, I was being chased by a bunch of pimply virgins.
"Rob, start the truck, Rob!" I screamed to my driver in the parking lot.
Rob, who had fallen asleep in the cab of the truck, lifted his ball cap and saw me booking for the car. He dropped his hat and then did a double take.
His feet dropped from the dash and he turned the key. The black Chevy roared as Rob flipped the gear shift from park into drive.
By this time, shopping carts were whizzing by me, coming closer every time. As Rob sat with the engine running, I jumped onto the hood of a Toyota Tercel and made a flying leap for a tree branch. Like a tubby trapeze artist, I swung into the bed of the truck.
The "Thud!" noise my body made when it landed was masked by the screeching tires and obscenities the cart boys yelled at me.
Relieved, I looked down and noticed a case of Black Label Beer.
"Rob, there's Black Label Beer back here," I screamed.
"Oh, that's just the beer for tonight," Rob replied.
"I hate Black Label, Rob, I hate Black Label," I screamed.
"C'mon show a little backbone, will ya?" Rob bellowed from the cab.
The truck drove off in the sunset, beginning the first chapter of my adventure.
Shaun Byron is the State News film reporter and still holds The Three Keys of Fenteuzler and dares the Dark Knights of Wickleberry to try to take them away. Reach him at byronsha@msu.edu.
