Cock, The Finale

So here's what happened with that mysterious roll of film that the previous owner of my New Jersey house had left. It took me a while to find a place that actually develops this obscure type of film, but I should have known all along that B&H Photo was the premier place in New York for all my photo, video, pro audio and digital imaging needs. No, they didn't pay me to say that.


As I was in the cab, I was blissfully imagining all the strange/wonderful/terrifying things that could be on that film:

• A photo that solves the identity of a never-caught murderer

• A secret map that shows where ancient Spanish treasure is buried in Central Park

• Tits

• Proof of life on Mars (hey, it could happen)

• Compromising photos of a prominent New Jersey politician who would pay handsomely for them

• Photos of a topless celebrity murdering a politician with Spanish doubloons on her tits

• Attractive landscape of the New York skyline that I could blow up for cheap instead of buying a poster.

• Serial numbers to a bunch of software, namely the Adoboe Creative Suite 3 and the latest version of Microsoft Office.

• Detailed schematics for building a time machine out of a Toyota Prius


So I got to the place, and a very helpful clerk at the developing counter lay the bad news on me: THE FILM WAS NEVER EXPOSED.

"You see the bottom of this roll?" he explained,"1 means the film was never exposed. 2 means it was partially exposed. 3 means the film was exposed but never developed. And 4 means it's been both exposed and developed."


Well, FUCK me. I had planned to leave another fake name ("Andrew Vince") and everything, but now all this effort- and cab fare- had been spent for shit. No secret recipes. No creepy shots of some girl being stalked. No scat porn. Nuthin'.

So rather than write a summary paragraph winding up this quest, I'll just leave it open and unsatisfying for you, just like I feel right now.