We would have a good reason to skip church.
I was ready to watch "Repo Man," but this car wreck of a movie about wrecked cars, wrecked flying saucers, and Emilio Estevez's wreck of a career soon made me consider the error of my ways.
I knocked on the door of the projection booth, a little building in the center of the parking area. The kindly operator peeked out from behind a clutch of burgers and a teeming mountain of Ketchup Packets of the Gods.
"May I borrow your 'Methodist Hymnal?'" I asked. I thought I'd practice for church after all.
He shut the door in my face.
My burden had grown wearier. I returned to our seats and gazed up into the gigantic, tired face of Harry Dean Stanton.
I like Harry Dean Stanton, but he is not the most animated of actors. Walt Disney took off after him with an art gum eraser. Pixar would be stumped.
I looked at Harry, The Nap in a Tatty Suit, and knew I was in desperate need of a caffeine infusion. Otherwise, I had no hope of remaining alert through four full-length features.
I stepped to the front of the refreshments line and said, "Hi, there, I'd like coffee, please."
"We ain't got no coffee," said the young lady.
"Ummm," I yawned, "let me have some hot chocolate."
"We ain't got no hot chocolate!" she yelped.
I raised the left eyebrow. "Espresso Crème Brulée?"
She stared at me.
"Nope," I translated.
I chewed a lip.
"Then, I'll have a Diet Coke. The biggest--"
"WE AIN'T GOT NO DIET DRINKS!"
I stared at her.
"If I give you 10 dollars, will you slap me in the face?"
I zombie shuffled away.
I had lost my quest and even the will to inquire of vichyssoise.
Previously in This Thread: Two for the Chow | "Revenge of the Cheerleaders"
Next: Spectacles in the Dark