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Theatre of the Damned
May 31, 2006
Da Vinci Code ~ Canon 30d
I bought a one way ticket to Hell this afternoon. Turns out it's a rather expensive ride to the firey bowels of the earth. The matinee was $7.50. Popcorn and a bottle of Dasani water ~ $8.00. Parking at the mall in Chevy Chase ~ NINE smackaroos. It's been quite awhile since I've seen a movie in an actual theater. Hell! I thought taking in a matinee would be the cheap way to go. Damn you, Satan ~ and your evil, inflated prices!
Aside from the dent in my wallet, there are some benefits to taking in the early show ~ no crowds ~ no lines ~ no crumbgrinding kids crawling the aisles and kicking the back of your seat. In my world, these are major plusses. And... when I say "no crowds", I'm making a bit of an understatment. As the escalator slowly inched me up toward the cinemaplex, I found myself standing alone in an eerily vacant and brightly lit theatre lobby.
"Where is everybody?" I wondered. Cautiously, I made one step, then another, while scanning the room 360 degrees as I headed toward an empty ticket counter. White puffy kernels exploded from one of the popcorn machines, but as far as I could tell, I was standing in a theatrical ghost town.
If I'd had my wits about me, and if I were a sneakier sort of person, I could have sleuthed my way into the appropriate theatre, but my stomach was growling, and those two shoes I always put on? ~ they're entirely too "goody".
"Yoooo hoooo?" I chimed, rattling my keys on the counter ~ a salutation which elicited a vague rustling ~ like squirrels ~ from somewhere down the hallway.
"I'm a-comin' Hon!" sing-songed a woman's voice back to me, "I'm the only one here!" {heavy sigh}, "I'm a-comin'!"
Time would finally reveal a very slow, but gentle black woman crawling snail-like toward the register. She gave me a ticket in exchange for some cash, after which I headed stage right, toward the still-vacant popcorn machines. The I'm a-Comin' Woman had vanished, it seemed, and once again I found myself all alone surrounded by JuJu Beans, tacky lighting and movie posters. Dare I chime another, "Yooo Hoooo" into the heavy butter-flavored air swirling under my nose? Is this some sort of weird trick? Oh man ~ is the entire city of Washington, DC boycotting the Da Vinci Code?
I cleared my voice and sheepishly called another "Yooo Hoo" into the popcorn void.
"I'm a-comin'!" the now-familiar voice replied, as the slow-mo woman creeped through yet another door ~ this time, whimsically smiling as she assembled an AMC apron.
"You're the Jack of all trades, eh?" I asked.
"Jack... Jane.. of EVERYTHING today," she quipped... rolling her eyes.
I felt a little like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz when she encountered the doorman in the Emerald City ~ the one who kept changing costumes, making consecutive appearances through the little hole in the wizard's window.
"Did I just step into some sort of alternative reality? Some kind of De Ja Vu Ghost Town Cinema?" I wondered.
Finally, popcorn in hand, I wandered under a sign marked "12" and into the Da Vinci Code theater... fully expecting the Alone Theme, which was so prominent in my storyline up to this point, would continue ~ hoping it would be just me, Tom Hanks, and a lot of gratuitous popcorn munching for three perfectly quiet, solitary hours of EVIL ENTERTAINMENT.
To my surprise, there were "others" inside ~ an older couple sitting in the third row of the stadium seating. "Darn!" I thought, as I climbed up to the 6th row and planted myself smack dab in the center.
Before long, another couple, this one in their 50's, climbed to the 8th row off to the right of me. A few moments later and elderly man emerged from the on-ramp, accompanied by his wife and grown son, both of whom lovingly assisted the man on what seemed a painful, beleaguered quest across the room. Each step precipitated by the clunk of his clackety old walker. Creeeeaaaak! CLACK, tentative step, SCREECH. Creeeeaaaak! CLACK, another tentative step, SCREECH ~ the rusty-sounding wheels moaning with each minscule push forward as the previews danced on the screen behind him. It was painful to watch as he struggled all the way down the row to the furthest seat from the exit he could physically tackle.
"Weird," I thought, as popcorn plopped down my shirt and into my bra ~ a feigned attempt at shoveling concessions down my hungry throat. "Well, at least I'm sitting all by myself, so I can take some shots of the movie for blogfodder."
Famous last words... a plump, geekish, 30-something guy, squinting through coke bottle glasses, galumphed down row 5 in my general direction. He squinted some more before planting his ASS in the seat precisely IN FRONT OF ME. It was a classic case of Movie-Going Heresy. There were close to a hundred empty seats, and this dude comes up and sits as close as he can in the row ahead of me. I moved over a couple of seats, lodging the popcorn even deeper into my B Cups. I needed a good vantage point from which to shoot off a few ISO 1600 pictures for this entry. (All highly obsessed liberal photographers bring camera gear everywhere with them.)
During the seemingly endless previews, I wondered what it would be like once Pope Benedict bid me and the other theater-goers fairwell from his Holy Train Station. It would be a tearful, heart-wrenching good-bye as the south-bound train slowly pulled away from the Number 12 Platform. My catholic friends, standing with their soggy, tear-soaked hankerchiefs clutched close to their faces.
We Told You So ~ Canon 30d
I see them from a distance, waving sadly and slowly mouthing the words, "WE TOLD YOU SO," with sympathetic piety. The soundtrack swells as they mournfully cling to each other in a melodramatic embrace, wailing plaintively.
Without missing a beat, the train lets loose with an enormous fart-like cloud of steam, creating a metaphorical barrier between us that Robert Langdon, professor of symbology, would quickly note and be proud of.
Thunder and lightning penetrate the sky causing the sodium vapor lamps to explode in a flash, giving up their ghosts. In a surreal swirl of frantic chaos, I see Pat Roberston mounting a soapbox to address the rain-drenched, greif-soaked crowd.
*Whoops* ~ his speech is cut short in a split second as he grasps a rain-soaked microphone, shooting sparks from his head and lighting up the train station like a Roman Catholic Candle. I see Benedict, laughing and smiling approvingly, as the Vatican guard tidily pushes his fundamentalist carcass away from the prying eye of Ron Howard's movie camera.
I frantically look through the steam-filled, rain-splattered windows, trying to find my mother ~ to call out my last good-byes to her before making my grand descension, but suddenly remember, she too, recently saw The FORBIDDEN Celluloid Artifact.
The movie quick-cuts to a grainy, off-color flashback, and it dawns on me ~ She is responsible for my downfall ~ my Dan Brown approvin', Da Vinci-Lovin' Mama. She's the one who gave me the Book of LIES for Christmas a year and a half ago ~ hard cover, no less!
"Dear God, it's true," I splutter, "the daughter bears the sins of the mother. Oh Lord! Heaven help me! Am I the hand-maiden of Satan? Is it true what they say? The apple never falls far from Eve's garden? No, no! Say it isn't so! {wrist to forehead} I'm doomed to eternity ~ I'm a dissident's daughter! {uncontrollable flagilation and sobbing}
An albino monk appears at the back of the compartment, slowly pushing a squeaky wrought iron concession confession cart. He must have just whipped himself silly, 'cuz he's leaning on it like a geriatric walker. "Garter belt for you?" he spits through a maniacal grin. "Free-thinker," he seethes, shoving the cilice in my face, "how dare you express your thoughts on that pathetic bleaaaaoooogh of yours."
The word "blog" gets stuck like a detestable salamandar between his lip and his tongue ~ spittle oozing to a pool in the ivory cleft of his chin. Dropping the cilice in my lap, he pulls out a macrame whip and smacks me in the head with it before moving on toward the row in front of me. Creeeeaaaak! CLACK tentative step, WHIP! SCREECH! I bow my head and cover my ears as the beleaguered wheels brush beside me.
While inspecting my holy garter belt, I sense a presence beside me. "I see you made the train on time, are you feeling okay, Dear?"
Swinging around with elation I cry, "Mom! Where in the world did you come from?"
"Satan gave me a one day pass to escort you down. It seems your blog entry from last week really caught his eye, Sweetie." Her eyebrows shooting up and down with excitement. "Did you pack the little black dress? The one I gave you for your birthday? Please, tell me you remembered the curling iron... your hair drastically needs some... attention."
"Black dress?" I inquire, "what the hell are you talking about?"
"For the gala tonight! You're the guest of honor, Darling. Don't worry if you didn't have time to pack the sunscreen. I have SPF 995 in my purse," she rummages through a bottomless black bag, extracting a humongous tube of KISS MY FACE out of it, "Here, take it! Too bad you didn't have a chance to build up a base tan before coming."
"Those tanning beds are dangerous!" I retort, "Everyone knows they give you skin cancer."
"Look, it's not EVERY day you get to be the guest of honor at Dante's Inferno!" her eyes, glistening with the proudest of tears, "You should be counting your blessings, little Miss Prissy! Besides, a little melanoma never hurt anyone down here." She pauses, taking a swift breath, "You look a bit pale," are you taking your vitamins, dear?"
"Shut up!" Yells the coke-bottle spectacled creep sitting in front of us.
"Up yours!" Mom yells back.
"Go to hell!" he bellows over his shoulder.
"TOO LATE!" the albino monk booms, sending the boxcar into an eruption of rip-roaring laughter and wild cackling.
"Quick ~ strap on your clicee, we're almost there!" the coke-bottled eye dude whispers over the seat, "and for the love of god, turn off your damn cell phone ~ the reel is rolling, the lights are dimming. The Da Vinci Code is about to begin!"
˜˚ß∂˙ƒª´¨®¶∂߃˙∂ƒ˜≤µ≈ç˜√˚≈ß…∂ƒ˚∆ƒ˙ß∂˙ƒ†∞∂©ƒß∂∫√∫µ≥≈√˜ß˚∂ƒ˙婨∂˙©∆
I hope you enjoyed this production, brought to you from the theater of imagination.
Imagine ~ Canon 30d
This satire has officially ended. Please know this is creative writing. It is not meant to criticize any faith or group of people... if anything, I am turning the table upon myself and judging my own words and actions here, albeit in a whimsical way. I hope you agree.
Please note, my mom will think our vitual ride to a symbolic hell is an imaginatively fun idea. Thank you, mom... for taking me on all those trips to the National Gallery of Art when I was in grade school. I distinctly remember standing in front of this Da Vinci in the 1970's and sharing a moment of pure wonder alongside of you.
And... finally, yes... the story above really did transpire pretty much the way it was written... up until the day dream sequence, that is.
Namaste.
Posted by susan at May 31, 2006 5:57 PM
Comments
too funny. :)
Posted by: rachael at June 1, 2006 3:08 AM
What a wonderful imagination you have my dear! I was grinning ear to ear through your entire day dream sequence. So, how was the movie as compared to the book?
Posted by: samtzmom at June 1, 2006 7:15 AM
I'll post a critique of the movie soon... doing this was way more fun.
Posted by: susan at June 1, 2006 7:56 AM
A wonderfully, funny way to start the day! Thank you!!
Posted by: JZR at June 1, 2006 10:25 AM
kinda scary, the black dress and Satan sitting beside you. Gave me a creepy feeling.
I guess that means your creative writing did its trick...but I'll take flowers tomorrow please ;)
Posted by: tongue in cheek at June 1, 2006 2:57 PM
hey... wait just one minute ~ my MOM is sitting next to me, and she certainly is the antithesis of "he who must not be named."
:)
not to worry... more flowers will bloom here. I can't do the same thing over and over here or I'd lose interest and stop. I hope y'all can be flexible enough to allow me some creative freedom here on my blog. Like all things in life, things might change from time to time here.
again ~ :)
Posted by: susan at June 1, 2006 3:02 PM
love this post.so right on.
Posted by: yolana at June 1, 2006 4:52 PM
~ speaking of the devil ~
Satan isn't all that bad ~ the shadow side of all our natures, which need to be sat next to and embraced.
Posted by: susan at June 1, 2006 5:54 PM
"a Roman Catholic Candle" HA - that almost made pop come out my nose!
Posted by: Heidi at June 1, 2006 5:57 PM
You are on a creative roll my dear. A funny piece well written with great imagry. I'm glad I could be a part of it.
Posted by: janet at June 1, 2006 6:20 PM
thanks, Da Vinci Code Lovin' Mama!
Posted by: susan at June 1, 2006 7:07 PM
Oh, man, what a ride that was!
Thanks!
Posted by: dan at June 6, 2006 3:15 PM
