John Steppenwolf said, "The wife and I really really enjoyed Letters to Juliet. The kids loved it too, well, not my son, who thought it was 'simpery' and went to his room to practice his zombie-killin'"
"A very noble passtime," Verble interjected.
"But my daughter loved it. That surprised me, I thought she wouldn't love anything that didn't have vampires in it, but it was nice, finally, to watch a movie that didn't have teenagers licking each other's nether regions or psycho killers dismembering said teenagers immediately afterwards, so much that you don't really know exactly WHAT is in those gobs of liquid flying at the screen . . ."
"Omigod, fer gosshakes stop it already!" said the Barista.
"Oops, sorry," said Steppenwolf. "Forgot where I was there for a minute. But seriously, this is a sweet sweet movie, something about Italy just inspires these kind of love stories . . ."
"Yeah, now I remember," said Niall Carter, "That's the one where this girl goes on a pre-wedding honeymoon with her restauranteur/fiancee and she starts answering letters that lonelyhearts women stuff into a brick wall . . . "
"and she answers the one from fifty years before, and it brings the woman back to Italy to find her Romeo, yeah, that's it."
"That's a beautiful one," said Niall.
"It sure is."
"Man, I think I'd love to be able to go back and find my true love after fifty years," mused the Barista.
Verble looked at her, "Sorry, young lady, you've got to be at least 65 before you can even think about doing that. That means you've got about 45 years to go!"
"42," the Barista corrected him, "but thanks for the compliment."
"Of course, my young lady, but of course."
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