they came out of the night like wild stallions on coke, like hopped up vultures desperate for a last meal!
jeremy laughed out loud with delight as he read the words on the poster outside the movie theater, describing the main feature “the last choppers”.
a smaller poster underneath it announced the second feature, “last stand of the losers”. although the poster had no pictures and did not describe it, jeremy knew that it , too, was a biker flick.
“ha ha, this looks great!” jeremy exlaimed. “the right stuff, for real.”
“i don’t think so, “ ona said, squinting with her little eyes at the poster, which had lots of bright reds and yellows against a black background, and was dominated by a long-haired wrap-around shaded biker holding an enormous pistol that was belching out a volcano of green-tinted fire at whatever. a babe with perfectly round boobs and swirling blonde hair gripped the biker’s shoulder and peered over at it into the eyes of the beholder of the poster.
“this isn’t for me,” ona repeated.
“maybe not, but it’s what we are going to see,” jeremy asserted.
“sorry, i pass.”
“pass! what do you mean, you pass? you promised! you promised! i went to see the remake of harry met sally with you! you promised !”
“yes, but i am breaking my promise. i’m not watching this shit.”
“you bitch! you fucking bitch! you promised! you promised, you lying fucking bitch!”
an older couple, dressed for the beach, who had stopped to look at the poster, were watching the scene and smirking. but as jeremy lost it and kept shouting, the man took a step forward.
“look here, fellow, that is enough of that. i think you have crossed a line here into disturbing the peace, and creating a hostile environment.”
“yes, shut up, you little misogynist creep,” the woman added. “or i will summon the constabulary.” she waved a tiny phone at jeremy. “ i think this young woman has suffered quite enough abuse.”
ona laughed. “fuck this. i am out of here.” she turned and started walking away, toward the beach, which was about half a mile away.
jeremy was speechless, but only for a few seconds. “who the fuck are you, you yuppie dickwads, to tell me what do with my life? why don’t you go back - go back to -“ jeremy had no idea where the couple might be from - new york? russia? san francisco? - “to capistrano” suddenly popped into his head - and he said “to capistrano.”
this made the woman laugh. “all right, little man, we’ll go back to capistrano. come on, ralph, let’s get out of here.”
“yes, dear. i don’t think the cinematic experience promised here would have been too exhiliarating anyway.”
they passed jeremy with their noses in the air. and they, too, headed in the direction of the beach.
jeremy was left alone. he started to cry.
“what the fuck was all the noise here? huh?”
jeremy recognized the guy who ran the little theater and who was probably the owner. he looked like he stepped out of a fifth-rate mafia movie from 1974. “you scaring away my customers, big guy?”
“i wasn’t scaring anybody, “ jeremy sniffled.
“i can believe that. you want to buy a ticket? see the show? it starts in five minutes.”
“yeah, i’ll see the show. i got nothing better to do.”
“then come on in, make yourself at home. not too full a house tonight, you got plenty of room to spread out, maybe loosen your belt and buy something to eat while you watch the show, what do you say?”
jeremy followed the 1974 mafia man into the theater. the mafia man sold jeremy a ticket and then went behind the little refreshment counter.
jeremy decided to splurge. fuck his diet, and fuck dr wilson, and fuck healthy living. he would get a large pepsi - a real pepsi, not diet, and not one, but two big boxes of sno-caps.
that’s good, the man told him, a man’s got to eat, keep his strength up.
jeremy took the pepsi and the boxes of sno-caps and went into the auditorium. it was dark, but not so dark that he couldn’t see. it looked like he was the only patron.
the previews started to play. loud, but not nearly as loud as at the megaplexes downtown and out in the big mall.
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