Hell, he had it coming to him.
I went to the movies to forget about jerking off in a room full of men.
He just wouldn't shut the fuck up.
Just kept talking and talking.
I told him to be quiet. He ignored me.
So I sat there. Hoping that when the film started he'd shut his yap.
I was wrong.
"Man, they just don't make them like they use to," he said, with a mouth full of hot dog, bits of bun crumbs hitting the back of my neck.
"Take Jim Carrey. "Ace Ventura" was a classic. I mean, that bathroom scene... what can I say... comic genius."
"Shhh!" I whispered.
I was ignored again. The previews of coming attractions played. None of them looked that good. I have this rule about talking at the movies. You don't. Nowadays, with every dickhead owning a VCR and thinking he's at home instead of a movie theater. They just yammer on. Trying to impress the bimbos that are dumb enough to go out with these clods in the first place.
"Yeah," she said smacking her gum. "That guy cracks me up."
All this broad had to look foreword to tonight was a Big Mac and date rape.
"Not anymore," Big mouth bellowed. "Ace Two sucked! I've seen funnier things floating down my toilet. Am I right, or am I right?"
"You're so funny," she replied. "You should make movies."
The feature started.
He kept talking. I don't let anyone talk during the movie.
I turned to him.
"Could you please shut up."
"Blow me," he said.
He elbowed his date. "Watch, this guy's some sorta pussy." He leaned forward in his seat and whispered in my ear. "I can talk if I want to, asshole."
He never saw it coming. I felt the cartilage that had been his nose turn to mush and a warm gush of his blood shot out and covered my hand.
I left and asked for my money back. The cashier gave it to me.
That was cool. I'd snuck in in the first place.
