A night out at the moving pictures

Hey man, the actual movie started about 10 minutes ago. You couldn’t make it to the theatre on time with your lovely wife huh? I took the time to make it here on time and get a good seat, but go ahead and plop down right in front of me. I don’t mind that you have to make some noise during the actual movie to get all settled in. Wheenie.

Better take a few minutes now to check your all-important text messages too, ‘Mr Blackberry’. The intense light from your mobile device doesn’t distract me from the movie at all. It’s a really quiet part of the movie right now, so this is really the best time to chat to your wife and have a few giggles. And now that you have your seats and the movie has started, better get back up and go get some popcorn. Careful you don’t step on any toes on your way down the crowded aisle! It’s not disturbing to the other guests that you are leaving to get treats just 5 minutes after you got here, and have to jostle down the aisle again when you come back.

It’s OK, I have something special for you. I’m working on it right now, but it won’t be ready for a while. I want you to focus on the movie. That’s right, cuddle up with your lovely wife and munch on your big bag of popcorn now. I want you to pay close attention and get caught up in the story. This movie is supposed to be a really good one. I’ll visit you later and we can discuss some things in more detail. Oh yes – much more, shall we say, “intimate” detail.

———

To be honest with you, I know what did it. In these sorts of affairs, it’s usually never just one perpetrator. It’s usually some sort of disagreement that takes place that causes the commotion. In any case, tonight was the night there was a mixer in my belly that started with a few cabbage rolls, then a couple of boiled eggs, and finally some pickled herring. It was the end of the month and I was out of food, so I had to scrounge around the fridge and have a makeshift dinner. Such is the life of a bachelor. I know this culinary concoction sounds pretty vile, but it actually all went down pretty smooth. But I digress.

And so it was, sitting there in the theatre that night. It was ‘all quiet on the Western Front’. But the now quiescent scene in the darkened theatre belied the digestive horrors that were transpiring below decks. And unbeknownst to Mr Blackberry sitting right in front of me, he was all lined up for the big barn dance.

I can’t claim to have any real control over what happened that night. Under different circumstances, there are certain tactics that one can employ to mitigate the damage one can cause in an enclosed room. For example, employing the ‘crop dusting’ technique. However, no such measures were called for, and I reveled in the fact that I could feel nature slowly but surely winding along its unholy course.

It was very near the end of the movie when the payout to Mr Blackberry for his earlier disturbance began. It was not much to begin with, but in a small area with not much air circulation, you can imagine the cumulative effect and carnage of even a small, targeted assault. And make no mistake about it – this was a vile, burning, acrid family of floaters. I was lucky enough to be able to shift forward in my seat too, so as not to waste anything in the cloth seat. So I was almost literally aiming at the back of Blackberry’s head.

I was only able to borrow about 15-20 minutes of Blackberry’s time at the very end of the movie, which I noted ironically was about the same amount of time he screwed around disturbing the theatre at the beginning of the flick. I know what you’re thinking – how bad was it, really? Well, near the end of the movie, he actually turned his head several times and looked around, almost as if to see if anyone else was experiencing or reacting to my olfactory aurora borealis. As the movie wound down (you could tell the movie was just about over), I noticed with glee that Blackberry had hunkered down and adopted the “popcorn bag over the nose and mouth” technique to help filter out the putrid cloud. I also noticed with sardonic amusement that Mrs Blackberry had buried her face deep into her hubby’s coat. That’s collateral damage, baby.

People who aren’t passive aggressive simply don’t know what they’re missing.