I dreamed I went to Movie Hell
After getting the sad news from the powers-that-be (it was a Republican administration in Heaven, the day I died) I stepped from the elevator and realized it was uncomfortably warm.
When given my choice, I had stupidly requested Movie Hell as opposed to, say, Knitting Hell, Golfers Inferno, or the ever-popular Place Where Bad Boys Who Fall Asleep at the Opera Go. But, still being in a state of trauma due to having been run over by a beer truck, I was too buzzed to realize the use of reverse psychology works great at the Golden Gates. I should have said, "Gee Whiz, Dick," (Dick Cheney was filling in for St. Peter that day) "I'm a big fan of Elvis Presley Movies! Can you send me to Elvis Presley Movie Fan Oven?"
Instead, I got exactly what I requested. Movie Hell.
It was a gigantic picture palace foyer, all glitzy and golden and wonderful, full of ushers decked out in pillbox hats and snappy uniforms and the seductive smell of freshly-popped popcorn filling the air, just like movie houses were back in the 1930's. I walked in. Tickets were free, of course. I approached the candy counter. Nothing but Good 'n Plenty and Jujubees. My two least-favorite movie candies.
Sensing a trend here, I leaned over the counter and scooped a handful of popcorn out of the bin. Although it smelled great, it was ghastly. Stale. Popcorn that had been popped weeks ago, then left to dry out. Then set out in the rain. Then redried. Then put up for sale. I noticed it was free, of course. But no one else was around to eat it.
Sensing the worst, I turned to look at the lobby cards to see what was playing at each of the several-dozen venues.
They were all the same. Running forever and ever. On a loop. A Jerry Lewis Film Festival.
When given my choice, I had stupidly requested Movie Hell as opposed to, say, Knitting Hell, Golfers Inferno, or the ever-popular Place Where Bad Boys Who Fall Asleep at the Opera Go. But, still being in a state of trauma due to having been run over by a beer truck, I was too buzzed to realize the use of reverse psychology works great at the Golden Gates. I should have said, "Gee Whiz, Dick," (Dick Cheney was filling in for St. Peter that day) "I'm a big fan of Elvis Presley Movies! Can you send me to Elvis Presley Movie Fan Oven?"
Instead, I got exactly what I requested. Movie Hell.
It was a gigantic picture palace foyer, all glitzy and golden and wonderful, full of ushers decked out in pillbox hats and snappy uniforms and the seductive smell of freshly-popped popcorn filling the air, just like movie houses were back in the 1930's. I walked in. Tickets were free, of course. I approached the candy counter. Nothing but Good 'n Plenty and Jujubees. My two least-favorite movie candies.
Sensing a trend here, I leaned over the counter and scooped a handful of popcorn out of the bin. Although it smelled great, it was ghastly. Stale. Popcorn that had been popped weeks ago, then left to dry out. Then set out in the rain. Then redried. Then put up for sale. I noticed it was free, of course. But no one else was around to eat it.
Sensing the worst, I turned to look at the lobby cards to see what was playing at each of the several-dozen venues.
They were all the same. Running forever and ever. On a loop. A Jerry Lewis Film Festival.
posted by Carl Larsen at 9:17 AM
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