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Three teens walk into a theater. Two walk out.

by Oz

So I'm having a rare day off a few days back, and I figure I might as well go see a movie. Something big, that'll look better on a big screen than it ever could on small. I choose '300'. I turn up at the theater - one of those ginormous 119-screen stadium-seated neon shitboxes that exhibition companies think pass for the glorious movie palaces of old, and though it's 12:30pm on a weekday, the place is drenched in kids. I'd gone to a movie during spring break - more fool me. And little did I know, I was about to be dragged into a long overdue fight; one that has been brewing for decades, and which would be escalated this day. Me vs the barbarians, round one.

Yes, I'm a fool for going to the movies during school holidays. Even bigger fool - I decided since I was watching a popcorn film, I'd go buy some actual popcorn. I hadn't done this in a while, figuring that I make way better popcorn at home than anything you'll find in a Stupidplex, and it only costs about 14c to do so, but hey, there was only one group of three teenagers at the snack bar, and I figured I'll be in and out quick enough not to think too hard about how badly the theater was ripping me off. I gritted my teeth and went for it.

Problem: These three teenagers were boys, and that means they just have to be dicks. Not just average dicks, mind you, but the biggest dicks imaginable. Dicks huge enough to be seen from the sun. Dicks large enough to service the sun.

"I'll have a small popcorn. No, make that medium. No, large. You're hot. Make it a small. No, medium. No, large. Seriously, you're hot. He's paying. No, the other guy. I'm not paying, I paid before. No, I said large. Do you have extra large? Make it small. What's best, butter or margarine? Do you have cheese? I'd do you."

The girl serving these maroons, no older than 16 herself, was clearly losing it with these idiots, so I decided to be proactive, rather than stand back and listen to their shittery.

"I'll have a large popcorn, thanks," I say, from behind them.
"These guys are before you," the clerk says.
"No, they WERE before me. Now they're behind me," I say.

I push between them and say, "You lads don't mind, do you, seeing as you can't decide what you want."

I duly get my popcorn while Heckle, Jeckle and Jerkoff wait, none too impressed and doing that oh-so-cool giggling behind your back thing that is supposed to make me feel all self-conscious. It doesn't. To demonstrate the fact, I turn to the leader of the group and say, "Dude, quit checking out my ass."

Attack repelled and turned onto the enemy! My kung fu is better than yours, dickweed.

So with that little drama over with, I move into the theater, which is fairly empty, regardless of the teen-swamp happening in the foyer. I may be stupid enough to go to the movies during a school holiday, but I'm not dumb enough to walk into anything less than an R-rated show at a multiplex. Let the kids blow their allowance on Eddie Murphy - I'll be in here watching entrails unwind at the hands of CGI'ed Spartans, thanks.

So the movie starts and I'm digging it. It's shite, of course, but it's exactly the kind of shite I'm looking for this day, except for the fact that David Wenham with abs and a loin cloth is just so many kinds of wrong. Here's a guy who has made a great living playing the slob, the slacker, the layabout - the me - and either they've computer-generated him a six-pack, or he actually went out and worked out like crazy for six months in a gym.

Either way, his stock just dropped abysmally on the Oz Stock Exchange. He now sits somewhere beneath Peter Hammond, but not quite at the level of Paul Fischer. We're talking dangerously low, but not quite in the bowels of hell.

Coincidentally, Hell is Paul Fischer in a steamroom, but I digress.

Anyhow, the point of all this comes right now - about 15 minutes in, the three teens from outside decide to sneak in and sit in the Penis Seats of this particular theater - I call them the Penis Seats because they're down front, and slightly to the left. The lads know what I mean.

And then it begins - the fucking text messaging. A shining green light in the bottom of my field of vision, complete with giggling and punching and talking and more green light waving.

Now, I guess there might have been a time when I was those three kids, but I don't recall it ever happening, so I'm going to just go ahead and risk being called the crazy old guy who stands on his lawn and shakes his fist at the kids playing stickball - but fuck it. They had to go down, and they had to go down hard, and they had to feel it enough so that they would return to their lizard king and warn him - "the adults are fighting back, and they're armed!"

Thankfully, I always make it a habit to bring a pocket full of change into a theater. Generally, if someone is being a nuisance, a penny tossed against the back of their head, or against the seat in front of them, will make them realize that others aren't impressed. It works wonderfully well for me, and has for many years. Nothing shuts you the fuck up faster than flying copper against the back of your cranium.

Well, nude scenes with old people, maybe.

But these fuckers didn't care! One penny tossed, right where it was intended, and rather than realize what's going on around them, these mooks start looking for it on the ground. And the talking gets louder. And the laughing. And the words, "What are they gonna fuckin' do about it?"

"Here's what," I thought to myself, as I dug back into my pockets.

I loaded my fist with a fresh new quarter. I lined it up, set the miscreants in my sights, and unloaded a perfect shot - not the usual high arc toss that will drop with no harm, but a bullet-like rip that cut through the air like a Spartan javelin and met it's intended target with a THUNK, followed by an "AAARGH!"

Right temple, middle seat - bitch goes down.

Now, sure, there was lots of "who the fuck threw that" and "I'll fucking kill you" after that, as well as lots more laughing (at them), and yeah, it interrupted the movie some. But they left soon thereafter, one of them in tears, and though I have occasionally wondered in the days since if perhaps I did any long term damage to my teenage target, I felt like I'd taken back a little territory from the invading armies of assdom, and that a decade of laser-pointers, kicked seats, snickers and talking had been somewhat avenged. 23 people paid ten bucks a piece to see a movie uninterrupted, and see a movie we did.

Let the bells ring and let the message spread; Not in my house, children. Not in my house.


link directly to this feature at http://www.hollywoodbitchslap.com/feature.php?feature=2143
originally posted: 03/15/07 22:01:24
last updated: 03/16/07 02:06:09
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