While we’re home as a family for the holiday, we try to get all the family activities in we miss while we’re on the road. Due to incessant begging and whining on behalf of the children we are related to by blood, we recently made our regular half-decade visit to the hometown movie theater. We have since had to make many trips to the local plasma bank to sell off parts of our personal selves in order to cover the exorbitant expense of this venture; so much of the information contained below may be either unimportant or fabricated. (This would be due to the loss of available oxygenated blood cells in my body and in no way reflects the fact that I could possibly be a filthy liar and suffering from near ex-sanguination.)
Being the extremely careful and borderline antisocial person I am, it’s a near certainty to me that anyone I am not related to by blood or fairly close affiliation may be potentially dangerous and is likely operating undercover for the Taliban, or at the very worst, a Democrat.
This being said, it should be plainly obvious to anyone that a movie theater is the very last place on Earth I would go to willingly. Attending a room full of strangers in the light of day is disconcerting enough; it is absolutely beyond comprehension to consider inserting myself and loved ones into a crowd of 200 people in a dark, dirty closet of a room. The zombie attack potential alone is astronomical, not to mention the filthy infiltrator factor.
The fact that we not only willingly participated in this, but also paid roughly the amount of the national debt of Paraguay in order to do so is something there will definitely be a family meeting about. It’s been leaked by a reliable source that the League of Starving Starlets (LOSS) have actually discovered a brain cell between them and hired an evil computer nerd to use the only reliable source of information out there, the interwebs, to brainwash all of humanity into paying more for a trip to the movies than we would for a small coastal village. (When contacted, there was no comment available from the L.O.S.S. due to the fact that there was an accidental pizza delivery to their lair and a brawl ensued. It is rumored that the delivery boy sustained grievous injury to his male person, but until video of it shows up on Youtube it is considered vicious slander and wild innuendo.)
My greatest concerns are not of the financial variety, but rather the public health issues involved in this whole sordid affair. The continuous re-use of cloth-covered chairs without extensive delousing between each sitting is an epidemic waiting to happen. I have it on good authority that the entire population of a small town in Arkansas was forced to shave their heads, eyebrows and other assorted hairy areas due to a body-vermin infestation that started at the local motion picture venue. Said residents have refused comment, but it has been noted that hat, styptic pencil and thong underwear sales have increased tenfold in their demographic area.
Needless to say, we escaped the horror of the whole thing vermin-free and without incident from the various miscreants lurking in the dark confines. (Although we did have to suffer watching Brad Pitt being 18 feet tall and trying to act for two hours.)
Of course, before I was able to extricate myself from the building, I was compelled to buy a $50 tub of popcorn that had enough artificial melted butter in it for an otter to swim comfortably. The twelve actual kernels of popcorn that clung fiercely to the waxy bucket were soggy and burned, completing a disgusting swill that cost more than a surf-and-turf dinner. But you know what? We were together, having family time and that’s really all that matters. Popcorn be damned.
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