Last night I stumbled out of the theater. The bright lights of the lobby killed my eyes. The loud high jinks of the adolescents killed my ears. But I didn't let those things impede my forward progress. I had a purpose. I had something that I NEEDED to do. Not that it was easy. I stumbled around. I stumbled around like I was drunk. But I wasn't drunk. I hadn't been drunk since the afternoon. I fell to my knees. I fell to my knees like I was religious. But I wasn't religious. I hadn't been religious since the mid 90s. I got back up and then fell right back down. I got back up and then fell right back down like I was indecisive. Which I actually was. But that didn't have anything to do with my physical position. The ART had hit me right up side the head and I needed to capture the feelings that had been all shook up. I fell back down and on knees bent and supple I crawled to the wall and reached up to pull my self up. But when I reached up my hands landed on a poster advertising an upcoming romantic comedy and it tore. Like my heart had just torn while watching the flickering silver screen. I held the torn poster in my hands and I wiped my face on the front of it. That's all the front was good for. My tears. Now the beautiful people's smiles on the front of that torn poster were stained with my tears. But the back. The back was clean and empty just like my heart had been before I had walked into that theater a short but important 96 minutes prior. The poster slipped in my buttery fingers but I was able to turn it around. I wanted to write on it but I didn't want to reach into my pockets for a pencil for fear of staining my new jeans with my butter and tear stained hands. I asked a woman to reach into my pockets for me. But she looked at me with disgusted eyes and with her disgusted mouth she said, "Reach into THIS pocket you sick son of a beaver." And then she grabbed her crotch, gave me the finger, spat twice, twirled counter clockwise four and a half times, counted all the change in her purse, decided to adopt a Portuguese Water Dog, put on a stove pipe hat, broke up with her boyfriend and then stomped away. Not the response I was excepting to be sure. Just as I was beginning to lose all sense of hope and reality one of the adolescents walked by full of high jinks, Dr Pepper, and snow caps. I grabbed his leg. He shook his leg. I held on tighter. He swore at me, "Would you please mind letting go of my lower appendage? I must amble forward quickly to meet up with my flock of good friends." He shook his leg. I help on even tighter. I held on to his leg like I had tried to hold on to my emotions in front of that flickering silver screen. But unlike before I was successful in my attempts. "Sir." Said the filthy mouthed boy, "Please. I must ask again in voice forceful and serious, please let me go. If I am not quick young Jeffery Knight will try to mack upon Alicia Franks and I have had my eye on Alicia's beautiful body and sensitive soul for quite some time now." And that's when I opened my mouth and with whatever I had left I whispered in voice cracked and delicate "snow caaaaaaps."
"Excuse me? Can you repeat?"
"Snoooooooow caappppppps."
"Oh. Oh. But I so love these delectable morsels of sweetness. Oh. I love how the chocolate plays so whimsically with the hard candy bits on top. But . . . Oh. Oh. Oh dear. I think that Jeffery Knight, that rouge, has just slipped his left hand onto the right buttock of Alicia Franks. How could he treat her so? She is not a piece of meat. An object with which to play with. She is a beautiful flower. Oh. Oh god. Don't pick that beautiful flower out of the beautiful ground where she belongs to flourish for many more years to come you Neanderthal. Oh. Oh. Just take them. And please let me go so I can attempt to right the situation just a few feet away from here."
And he dropped the box of snow caps on me. I took them in my shaking hands and as he scampered away to join his adolescent friends and their high jinks and Dr. Pepper I managed to croak out a week and feeble but sincere, "Thank thank thank you."
I took the snow caps and using them like Benjamin Franklin must have used his beautiful feather quill pen I scribbled IT down. Just as I dotted the last i I passed out. I don't know if it was the emotion or the extra large popcorn but I was out like a light bulb that had just been switched off. When I awoke I found myself in an Applebee's a half eaten appetizer sampler in front of me. I don't know who ate all of the Cheese Quesadilla Grande but maybe it was the same person who took the torn, stained, beautiful half of a romantic comedy poster. Because it was just as gone as all of those delicious cheesy quesadillas. I nibbled on a boneless buffalo wing and thought about what it said, how true it was and lucky I was to have written it. I wiped my mouth, took a sip of Dr. Pepper, started in on the spinach and artichoke dip and smiled. I was happy that someone else had the poster. Maybe they'd pass it on like some kind of wonderful chain letter. Maybe it would change the lives of everyone who took it in their hands and read its bold, chocolaty true words. Just like how those words are about to change your life.
It said:
One of the Ten Reasons To Buy A Minivan: Juno drives one.
0 comments:
Post a Comment