Justin Fixes the VCR – Part Three: Somebody Get that Boy an Aspirin
by Patti
c.2001
*The goo is gone. Nothing much has changed since you last tuned in. Lots of profanity and lots of onomonapias. (Yes, I know it's spelled wrong)*

Chris watched as Justin expertly plugged the fuse back into its proper place.

“And now for the spring. C’mere you little…oops.”

“Oops,” Chris asked.

“Did I say ‘oops?’ I meant sweet, I’ve figured it out. Ha ha, ho ho, hrmm,” Justin chuckled before trailing off, furrowing his brow.

“You broke it, didn’t you,” Chris baited.

“Did not. I mean, it was broke before. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right? Well, if it’s broke, fix it.”

“No Justin. If it’s broke you take it to an electrician. Now quit playing around before you kill yourself.”

“I am fixing it Chris. I’m sure that spring was optional anyway. Let’s see.”

Eject.

Inject.

Play.

Whrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…clik.

< “Fuck.”

“Justin,” Chris scolded.

“No wait, I know what’s wrong.” Chris raised his eyes. “No seriously. Let me try one more thing.” Sighing, Chris sat back and wondered how many solo’s he’d get once Justin had fried himself.

Justin picked the VCR up from off his lap and began shaking it. “STUPID MOTHERFUCKING COCKSUCKER PIECE OF SHIT VCR Why won’t you work? Are you TOO FUCKING GOOD to do you job? Well, GO BLOW YOURSELF YOU FUCK-KNOT AND WORK DAMN YOU!” He accented his stream of profanities with a series of sharp, violent shakes, and punches. Four pairs of eyes were on Justin as he finished his rant, and calmly placed the VCR down, ejected and then injected the tape again and hit Play.

The small engine stirred and whirred…and kept going.

On the front of the VCR, the LCD numbers began counting up.

“Holy shit, he fixed it. Fucking Justin fixed the VCR,” Chris said, not believing his own words.

Here’s the part where they kiss my ass and tell me how great I am.

“Justin, plug the thing back in for the love of god,” Joey barked. “I’m done with my magazines.”

Leaving the VCR opened and exposed, he stopped and ejected the tape in order to return his fallen adversary to its spot on the shelf.

All wires in place, Justin popped in his Full House tape and sat back on the couch, his smile filling his face; his head free from aching. On the screen the familiar song began.

“Whatever happened to predict-dict---durrrrrrrr—abillll---lehhhhh—teeeeeeee. Whrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrwwwhhhhrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr clik-cuk clik-cuk whiiiiiiiiiiii

Smoke poured out of the VCR as Justin scrambled to his feet. The black box began shaking and instinctively he ducked, just as his friends did behind him. The cassette shot out of the VCR, unraveling and hit the back wall just over Lance’s head. It then ricocheted off the wall up towards the ceiling and fell defiantly at Justin’s feet, leaving a trail of cassette ribbon destruction behind it.

Smoke continued to spill from the VCR’s mouth as well from the mangled tape in front of him. Cautiously, Justin looked around the room—at the yards of video tape draped along the wall, and Joey—and smiled at his friends.

“I’m pretty sure that spring wasn’t optional,” Chris said.

“Fuck.”

JC looked up from his screen and down at the power strip at his feet.

“I am NOT unplugging that.”

Justin’s headache returned.