We're in the video store. Not the clean little one filled with brand-new DVD's pushing the VHS titles to the dusty back room. That's the store with the prominently-placed hip "Cult Movies" section, the respectable collection of foreign films, and the "Staff Picks" section where all the dorky video clerks compete to show off their eclectic tastes. We've already rented everything that store carries.

No, we're in the other video store, a block down the street from the first one. The store we like if for no other reason than that the clerks aren't all fifteen years old and trying to be Quentin Tarantino. The place we refer to only as "The Slutty Place". Suffice it to say that whoever stocks their inventory has less than discriminating tastes, which means a wider selection on the shelves, particularly if you're looking for porn but also if you're looking for recent releases. We are looking for recent releases.

Pär wheels the baby stroller over and gives me a half-sheepish, half-pleading look. He's holding a video hidden behind his back. From the expression on his face I can tell he's found some apocalyptic crap again.

"Whatcha got?"

He holds out the box. It's Bless the Child.

"Apocalyptic crap again?" I sigh. "With Kim Basinger?"

His smile gets wider and slightly more sheepish. He waggles the box enticingly.

I roll my eyes, resigned. "I love you so much that I will watch this movie with you."

"Yes! Really? Okay!" He bounces up and down. "Oh hey," he says, his attention distracted. "Look!"

I look. He's examining another box on the shelf: Battle Queen 2020.

"I don't love you enough to watch that movie with you."

"No, no," he says impatiently. "I don't want to watch that. But look, it's her." He hands over the box for me to see the cover.

"Julie Strain."

"Yes!"

"You know she's married to the Ninja Mutant Turtle guy?"

"Right, the one you met at your bar in Northampton. Kevin Smith. No, Kevin... Something. Hoffman. Gingerman. Postman."

"Eastman."

"Right."

I glance at the cover again. "She does look good, huh?"

He makes a scoffing noise. "I just wanted you to see her so I could point out how you are so much more gorgeous than she is."

I stare at the video box. Julie Strain, all the taut and muscled six-feet-plus of her, strikes a provocative comicbook dreamgirl vixen pose in leather and hardware.

I am pushing a baby stroller around a grimy video store, wearing loose sweatpants and an old extra large five-dollar t-shirt to cover my flabby post-pregnancy waist. My hair straggles out of a bun at the back of my neck. I have not, I suddenly remember, gotten around yet to brushing my teeth today.

My stare moves from the box to Pär's face. He nods firmly at me.

"She's like a totally boring and less beautiful version of you," he says.

"Okay," I tell him, "now I do love you enough to watch that movie with you."

"No way, dude, we're watching Bless the Child!"

So we go home, I make Stinky Popcorn, we snuggle and watch the movie. It's a strictly by-the-books thriller like every other here-comes-the-devil apocalyptic movie we've ever rented, but the familiar formula is satisfying. It's comforting to see good and evil divided up according to neat rules, knowing that good will win. The female characters are neither subordinate nor flimsy. And of course we have a good time making fun of it all. Kim Basinger still can't act, but on the up side there's Christina Ricci in a small role even though she can't really act either. Jimmy Smits co-stars. He's pretty cute, sure, and he plays a good guy here what with saving the world and all, but he ain't got nothin' on my man.