We found ourselves held captive inside the Plaza Theatre, Atlanta, during the Silver Scream Spookshow. Oh, sure, we could have walked out any of the convenient exit doors, but at the peril of ridicule and scorn from the other attendees?
I don't think so.
Plus, it was kinda chilly.
Donna and I were already on treacherous ice with the audience. We realized we were the only people in the building without tattoos. It's not that I have anything against tats. My body is a temple for beet juice stains. I need blank skin for my copious collection of beet juice stains, attractive, gnarly.
Hey, spillage lovers, I'm expanding, adding weight to increase my surface area to beet the demand!
Coming soon. Check your local listings and more beets, please.
I produced a Sharpie and scribbled "WICKED" on my wife's forehead. The quick thinking and faux 'ttoo reduced our chances of being kidnapped, roughed up, and/or hooted, while remaining highly fashionable among this crowd, many of them eight.
Then, I drew a griffin and a bloody scythe on Donna's lovely cheek. That's what I told her anyway. I was mostly doodling spirals, making certain the pen wasn't dry of ink.
During the live portion of the festivities, a number of scares were inflicted upon the gathered patrons, chiefly by the miraculous birth of the tiny The Glob, evolved from a sneeze. Before our eyes, The Glob grew out of a puddle of Plaza phlegm into a vast orb of The Glob goo, which advanced over the head of each of us petrified viewers dotting the darkened auditorium.
The Glob was last seen slurping along Ponce de Leon Ave. in pursuit of a decongestant and a tissue.
After dabbing Donna with my clean, gentlemanly hanky, I finger-flicked several gelatinous The Glob residues onto some kid in the fourth row, as the feature film attraction hit the screen.
"It Conquered the World" Trailer via YouTube
"It Conquered the World" (1956) is an exceptionally tense motion picture that I do believe to be a suppressed documentary of major import, instructing us of a deadly menace come to Earth to annihilate the fabulous babes of the 1950s, all prim and proper and prepared to face their dooms -- "Just a second, Itsy!" -- with perfect coiffures and cosmetic diligence. The Venusian monster surely appreciated the array of fine sassy party dresses and tight sweaters. Welcome to our planet and to our women.
I took the entire outrage in stride, resisting handsomely the dangers of fainting from fright.
Nevertheless, I was comforted by the presence of the registered nurses on duty.
