A young man wearing jeans and a plain, gray sweatshirt exited a movie theater for the ninth time in the past fortnight. He tossed his nearly empty bag of popcorn in the trash. Only a few kernels dissipated about the bottom of the sack remained. His hands clapped together before being forced into the pockets of his jeans. One teenager who worked in the lobby of the theater complex thought it to be odd that this creep had seen nine romantic comedies in only two weeks. What was he doing? Could he be getting his jollies off to the film?

The truth was simple. Bill was the biggest fan of romantic comedies in the world. A hyperbole? Sure. One might argue that would be Julia Roberts, but no matter. Bill loved romantic comedies and they loved him back. An unspoken deal was in place. Bill would buy a ticket to see the latest rom-com, and film producers would continue creating rom-coms for Bill to see, the system was flawless. When he nestled into the cushy theater chair with a bag of popcorn, Bill was at his happiest. He was interested to see what these two crazy, young, fetching actors would get themselves into this time. Would the movie end with a wedding, a proposal, or a rom-com no-no, an ending with the two stars apart from one another.

Bill had a plethora of romantic comedy ticket stubs in a box under his bed and each night before his slumber, he would count them to make sure they were all there. His collection was the most important thing in the world to him and he would hug the sharply carved box until he drifted off to his dreams of a romantic comedy in his own life.

The next day, Bill's life changed forever when an anonymous package was placed on his front stoop. Inside was the final draft of the manuscript for When Harry Met Sally. Bill could not believe it, the lines read by Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan in the most quintessential romantic comedy the world has ever seen were in his own hands.

After three months of staring at the script, Bill realized he had missed the release of sixteen different romantic comedies and he was heartbroken. How could he have let them all slip by without even realizing how much time had elapsed? What a bimbo he had become!

Suddenly, the romantic comedy gods started to frown upon him and his punishment was being left completely alone, except for the script. Tattered and mentally worn, Bill was forced to sell his prized possession.

He met the buyer in a dank alleyway in the pouring rain. A lagoon was beginning to form in the corner, near the dumpster. The hooded figure approached Bill with his footsteps echoing throughout the midnight sky. He carried an umbrella and a briefcase filled with thirty thousand dollars in cash, while Bill gripped the script which he had since covered with plastic protection.

Bill looked down at his manuscript and a single tear fell onto the sheet protector. When did everything go so terribly awry? As Bill prepared to hand over the last thing that mattered to him in the world, an otherworldly being ceased the upwards motion of his arm.

“Don’t!” The voice shouted, and Bill complied, yanking his love backwards. He spun around.

“Hello?” Bill called out into the dead of night.

“Look, pal, are we gonna make this exchange or not? I’ve got places to be, ya know?” The masked figure asked impatiently and kind of suspiciously.

“Just one second. Didn’t you hear that?” Bill queried to his business partner.

“I didn’t hear nothing, c’mon, let’s get this show on the road.”

The voice spoke again. “Don’t give it to him, Bill! It is I! Harry Burns! I’m your romantic comedy spiritual conscience. Keep the script. I’ll talk to the other rom-com gods. We’ll get you back in good graces. You have to promise not to obsess over trites like that script, ya hear? If you truly consider yourself to be the most devoted romantic comedy fan, you will see each new release. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, of course, Harry! Are there really gods for romantic comedies?"

"Bill..."

"I’m so sorry. I’ll never miss another romantic comedy.” Bill pleaded with the face-less wonder.

“Dude, are you high right now?” The manuscript dealer asked. “If so, I’ll have what you’re having.”

Bill snapped his head around at the comment and had an epiphany. “That line is on page eighty-four of this manuscript. It’s paraphrased, of course, but that must be a sign. It has to be! I must return to my home and buy tickets for the upcoming romantic comedies! Rom-Com-Con is fast approaching!” With that, Bill leapt in the air and clicked his heels together before dashing off into the night.