Once upon a time in the midwest, a mild-mannered pawn sho-
Scratch that.

Once upon a time in the midwest, a sometimes irate and emotionally unstable pawn shop owner was sitting behind his counter at work, waiting for his day to be over.
Technically, he was not really working. He was looking up the price of a GI Joe Defiant Space Shuttle lot on eBay that he really wanted, but some jackass kept rejecting his offers.
His offers were really low but that is secondary to the fact that he was really not working while at work. (Not an uncommon occurrence).
A young man, probably around 20, approached the counter. His curly blonde hair hung out low under the top of his beanie hat that he wore, said, read “Legit,” tucked underneath a hooded sweatshirt, and large, oversized headphones on his head. His sweatshirt, baggy, also proudly proclaimed “Don’t bust my hustle.” The pawn shop owner was clearly impressed by the would-be customer’s apparel choices.
“What can I do for you,” smoothly chirped the seasoned retail professional. The young man coughed a little bit, and then adjusted his pants, which were, oddly, dragging below his waistline. “Perhaps there were golden coins in those pockets,” thought the shop owner.
“Well,” stammered the young man, “I uhh well, was wondering if you have the movie, ‘Hustle and Flo’ over there for sale?” He did not seem sure of either hustling or flowing, but perhaps his movie choice would teach him how to do one or the other. Or both.
“We don’t have an inventory of the DVDs on the shelf,” was his stiff reply, that he’d uttered so many times before that he couldn’t count.
“Oh. Well, do you know if you have it?” The lad seemed determined.
“No, bud, sorry I sure don’t.” In a friendly but sure tone, the shop owner impressed upon the young man the lack of need to follow up with any questions about this movie.
“Oh. Uhh. Are you sure? Like you can’t look in your computer?” He earnestly inquired, again.
A little more perturbed, mostly because he was certain that the young man would understand that, in fact, he had no idea what movies he had, our local business here replied, “No, we don’t have a database of movies either on the computer or in a list or on paper or anywhere really.”
“Oh. Well, if you do have it, how much would it cost?” The shopkeeper paused, pondering why The “Movies $3 apiece or 5 for $10 signs” that were posted in every possible way in or around the movies were hard to see; After all, there were 5 of them to read, and the font size filled up one legal-sized piece of paper for each sign.  
“They are $3 apiece…or 5 for $10.” It seemed a little forced, coming out of his mouth, but the poor fellow had already realized that he’d entered that weird world with this customer, where nothing would speed up the painfully slow interaction and the world itself would suck the few remaining drops of juice left he had in his soul.  
“Oh.” This word, ‘Oh,’ seemed the word of choice for the lad. This time, though, he didn’t follow it with any earth-shatteringly profound questions. He just stared. Jaw slack, breathing heavily through his mouth…just staring at the shop owner. A weird standoff appeared to be taking place. Emotionally, the shop owner felt almost like a hostage; as if nothing he could do would free him from the ravages of the grip of this situation. He died a thousand deaths, in the instant between the ‘Oh,” and the next word, “Um.”
The conversation then went like this, in as close to “rapid-fire” as it could be, given the circumstances.
“Do you trade movies?”
“Yes I do.”  
“How?”
“How do I trade?” 
“Yeah.”
“Well, you give me two movies and I give you one, all trades are in our favor here.”
“Oh.”
“Did you want to trade movies?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay…what do you have to trade?”
“Movies.”
“Yes…I assumed that. What movies do you have to trade?”
“Ones I’ve already watched.”
Through gritted teeth, the shopkeeper, not sure how to proceed without having an emotional meltdown, slowly said, “What…movies…do…you…have…to…trade?”
The young man reached his hand into the pocket of his oversized sweatshirt and pulled three DVD movies out. He handed them across. “These,” he said.
The shop owner looked them over quickly. Basic math will tell you that if you trade 2 for 1 and the person brings three movies to the trade, he’s either going to get one movie and have one of his old ones to keep, or get two movies and pay for half of the second one. Basic. Math. In the ensuing 180 or so seconds, he worked very hard to explain this to the young prodigy, who didn’t seem to hear him. Or something.
“But I want two movies.” Was his flat response.
“If you trade me these three and give me $1.50 plus tax, you can have two movies.”
<blank stare>
“So…do you want to go find a movie, or maybe make a deal another day or…?”
“Umm. What if I just take the DVD out of the second case and you keep the case, would you make the deal then?”
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t see any reason to do that.”
“Oh. Umm. Okay.” He didn’t answer the question, just wandered off towards the movie display racks.
The young man spent approximately an eon looking through the movies, pulling off what seemed to be every single one of the more than 2,500 in stock, to read the back of them. Slowly. While moving his lips.  
The chance to possibly close early was gone. The chance to close on time also left, several minutes previously. And the chance to close within an hour of the end of the universe was slowly ebbing away. Although the light of the sun still blazed outside, it was if time itself became relative inside the TARDIS-like environment of the shop. The shopkeeper saw the beginning of time, and the expansion of the galaxies, the death of millions of stars and the waxing and waning of galaxies, and yet, throughout all this, stood a very resolute movie-seeker, like a guardian of consistency, against time immemorial. All things in the universe changed, but the painstaking ritual of movie selection, right here, did not.  
Was there an underlying cosmological principle playing out here? Was this a microcosmic example of the reason of existence? One large, nearly immobile, solely-focused and intent creature, only seeking entertainment, for little to no out-of-pocket cost, standing idly by as the scenes that he had created died and were reborn, only to die again, for all eternity? The existentialism is real, yo.  
<Author’s note> It was at this point that the shopkeeper realized he was hallucinating due to a blood sugar low, and was sucking on his iPhone for nutritional value. A quick handful of peanuts, some Gatorade, and he was back to his usual sarcastic self.
Suddenly, an excited, “F*** Yes!” was heard from the movie section. What had previously been a mall Santa Claus display, with only a moving arm and slightly turning head, broke into a trot. The young explorer had found, not one, but TWO copies of “Hustle and Flow.” He proudly tossed them on the counter.
“Okay I’ll take these two.”  
The shopkeeper responded, “Okay that’ll be $1.62.”  
“I thought you said I could have a movie in trade.”
“I did say that. You have two movies here.”
“No I don’t, it’s only one movie. It’s only ‘Hustle and Flow.'”
“It’s…two…movies.” Spiraling into depression, the shop owner gripped the counter with one hand, hoping to steady himself physically, for the clearly emotional pain he was suffering.
“No, it’s just one, Se-” and he was about to open each of the DVD packs, to show that it was indeed, the same movie…much as the exact same cover art on each one, also indicated that. The shopkeeper interrupted him.
“No, God…No, just. Please, just take them. Here’s a sucker,” and he reached into his jar of suckers, to give him one, hoping that would encourage an exit.
“Sweet. I love suckers.” The young man took off the PURPLE wrapper, put it in his mouth, and said, “Oh. I don’t like grape. Do you have cherry?”
Exasperated, and, squarely beaten, the shop owner took the entire bucket of suckers and poured them all into the plastic grocery bag, along with BOTH copies of “Hustle and Flow,” and said, “here. Just…enjoy.”
Again the blank, odd stare. “Oh.” The young man then took his bag, adjusted his headphones and made his way back into the multiverse.
The shopkeeper wept.