On a dark and stormy night (of course), a visitor creeps into your small, unsuspecting Midwestern town. His name: The Twenty-first Century. He strikes with the lightning, and the next morning the video rental store is ... dead.
You and your friends throw out predictions for the now vacant building in front of WalMart's stripmall. A yoga studio/hookah bar? A strip club internet cafe with fair-trade Orange Fanta? Nordstrom Rack?
The weekend weather calls for rain. A fitful afternoon of showers brings a rainbow. The rainbow brings a Leprechaun. The Leprechaun brings a shamrock.
O'Reilly Auto Parts.
You sigh. Do you really (or Reilly) need another auto parts store? It's the third one at that very streetcorner. One more, and you'd have the four-leafed spark-plugged clover from Hell.
And that's the sad state of your life until one fine morning when the Leprechaun receives an eviction notice (for paying rent with gold coins that disappear after...never mind), and sexy-silhouette-mudflaps give way to a...
Figuring this poorly-conceived business idea would last a week at best, you decide to check it out.
You browse for a while, grabbing a couple of titles that catch your eye. Retreating to the back corner, you settle into a chair resembling an oversized hand (recently purchased from a furniture store at the other side of your anonymous Midwestern town). You're about to skim a few jacket blurbs and perhaps an opening chapter or two, to decide which of these lucky volumes is going to bed with you tonight.
To be continued...