The Film Critic (flash)
Parker on the speakers. Wind stirs in room. Through the sinuous melody the face of that man emerges. Long nicotine teeth, laughing. Breaking boundaries, he said. Of a film I havenít seen. And probably wonít. Ever. Does he even understand what boundaries are? In the context of film? He was parroting stuff from the blurb. As though they were his own thoughts. Does he even have thoughts? Secondhand fragments, perhaps. Nothing worthwhile, novel. Why should he? Who is he? This man who frequents the movie shop. Who thinks he understands film. Who wants you to know that such and such films are good. Such and such arenít worth your time. Why? Can he say anything besides some vacuous word or phrase? Groundbreaking. Original. Astoundingly complex. Complete rot. And I just stood there, scratching my head. I just stood there. I shouldíve given it to him. I shouldíve. But I didnít know where to start. I didnít know how to begin. Next time, friend. I swear. Next time. Shut up, Parker.
when in doubt, whisper non sequiturs.