Mystery Movie Moment # 3

The day had come. They couldn’t hide from it anymore. It was Judgement Day for the wicked at the movie theatres and just like Alcatraz, there was no escape for the unfortunate ones that were forced to face the most painful experience of their lifetimes. Two by two, the dominant guards had their prisoners linked arm in arm as an alternative to handcuffs. Some went willingly, others didn’t want to go out without a fight and very few desperate and brave souls attempted to sneak away to the theatre playing a movie with the sounds of a loud cracking whip and a score composed by John Williams playing in the background. Unfortunately none of them were successful.  

My prisoner however surrendered and accepted his doomed fate and took a swig of whiskey out of his shiny silver flask for which he used as his “last meal” before taking a sit in the “chair.” 

Once in their seats, the prisoners looked around at the chaos surrounding them. The guards were busy talking and laughing, ignoring the protests of the prisoners. Strapped down in their chairs by perfectly manicured hands intertwined with their own, the prisoners watched as their captors referred to themselves as one out of four names and fanatically talked  about a chocolate bar brand as if it were an emotionally challenged man they were obsessed over. 

The prisoners looked at one another with the same look of dismay and sadness in their eyes that cried out with a level of melancholy one could only witness a funeral. My prisoner however looked numb and unafraid of the torture that was going to be bestowed upon him and with the sound of an annoyingly familiar saxophone, the “switch was pulled.” 

From then on in, the prisoners were forced to watch the two and a half hours of pointless melodrama and were also forced to listen to the straining voices of Fergie and Ciara in the background.  There was no need to use the Ludovico technique, for the intimidating guards proved that averting your eyes to what’s on the screen would seriously be a foolish stunt to pull. 

I too was ignoring my prisoner’s agony and found myself enjoying watching the beloved characters I hadn’t seen since 2004.  The beginning sent chills up my spine and I was happy to see everybody onscreen once again. (Even though I developed an obsession of wearing belts on everything I wear afterwards.) It was sadistically funny to watch the prisoners squirm and wince while watching scenes of unshaven pubic hair sprouting out of bathing suits, lingering shots of a very endowed penis, and a closet fashion show montage followed by what sounded like the screams of crying banshees.

Although, once the essential novelty wore off, I found myself not enjoying the movie as I once thought I would. It wasn’t the same anymore. The messages were all wrong. All of a sudden I noticed that the movie was promoting the fantasy of women being able to hook up with their emotionally unstable and commitment phobic dream men and as long they wear brand names to the convenience store and not gain even a pound in their stomachs, that they could live in this fantasyland where they could have perfectly constructed and rent-control lives that only an overly flamboyant homosexual man could dream up. 

I watched the rest of the guards and noticed they were all brainwashed from the Prada, Dior and Manolo Blaniks that were reguritated in every frame of the movie. 

Watching the prisoners pitiful faces, I had to wonder, Was being forced to watch a 2 and a half hour Michael Bay movie with transforming robots really deserving of this punishment?’

I realized at that moment that the punishment was too serious for the crime and I looked over at my drunken prisoner and with one look in his direction I acknowledged that the movie was torturous crap and just like that, he generously handed over his “last meal” and shared it with me so we can experience the “exquisite pain” together.

Although the movie was painful, one moment lit up everybody’s faces and that was when the conservative and once Pryspertarian “princess” accidently shat her pink velour pants in front of her friends. At that fleeting moment, the prisoners knew that they would survive this and that they did.  After the Sex and the City: The Movie cleared out, the men broke free of the lady friend’s grasps, knocked over the Cosmopolitan martini glasses and were finally free to escape to the bars for a beer and a free therapy session with their buddies who were also mentally raped by the 2 and a half hour estrogen extravaganza. 

Note to the Wise:  When Megan Fox is onscreen in Transformers 2 this summer, try not to blatantly ogle her goodies this time in front of your girl or next summer you will have to watch the SATC sequel!  You’ve been warned.

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