Part 6 (1/2)
The Lab Coat Man, weary, almost to the last of his forms (a pink 2D with carbons) wished he had could have arranged to appear in a sauna somewhere in darkest Finland, but resolutely kept noting all he was able until he realized somewhere between checkmarks that Justin Nelson was pointing a gun right between his eyes. At first, he wanted to flip to a red 1A. Somewhere on a 1A there was a box relevant to imminent personal danger. But then, he understood in the microseconds he had left that Justin's finger was pulling the trigger, which was pulling back the hammer, which would imminently fire the bullet in a more or less straight line directly into his tired, balding skull.
He had expected his life to flash before his eyes, but all he could remember (and in fact see, superimposed over the image of Justin's gun) was a Dali that he could not be sure he had ever seen or had even been painted. Perhaps, in those last days of his own early life, studying art history and believing he too was capable of producing something famous, immortal, perfect, he had envisioned such a painting, an abstract only now completed, detailing a life of frustration and mediocrity that wound its way, eventually, down to this last moment of nothing.
It was so beautiful, so tragic, that he held the clipboard over his face as Justin fired once, piercing the thin wood with a single, perfect hole.
14. Criswell Speaks ”One is always considered mad when one discovers something that others cannot grasp.”
-- Bela Lugosi, ”Bride of the Monster”
Julia and Rhonda ran inside the theater at exactly 7:10 pm. Still giggling, they bought two tickets from a weary looking man wearing a jacket and a ”Manager” tag. When they hit the concession stand to relieve their munchies, they found a sign that said: ”Closed”.
”Aww!” Rhonda whined. ”I was getting really hungry too!”
”It's too bad I can't hop back there and get us some popcorn. I worked at a theater for two summers when I was in high school.”
”I beg your pardon?” the Manager inquired, somehow looking five years younger. ”Do you mean that?”
”Oh yes!” exclaimed Julia. ”I was a.s.sistant Manager for a month as well!”
”Would you like a job? Part-time?” he asked, regaining another three.
Both woman screamed and hugged each other. Wiping a tear from her eye, Julia said: ”Sure!”
A smile suddenly broadened upon the Manager's now young and chipper face. Tom had been showing signs of being less than happy with this job. Perhaps he was ready to move on. Maybe he needed a push.
Anyway, he had called in sick for the evening, and despite the run of good luck with the second-run bad movies, the Manager did want something left over for a vacation this year.
Julia was about to ask a few questions from her new employer, but a voice like a drunken oracle began to blare from inside the theater.
Julia found herself entranced by the grammatically awkward oratory:
”Greetings my friends. We are all interested in the future, for that is where you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives. And remember my friends, future events such as these, will effect you in the future.”
Julia winced, (and the Manager silently cursed Neoldner for threading ”Plan 9” instead of the intended Bride of the Monster.)
”You are interested in the unknown, the mysterious, the unexplainable; that is why you are here.”
”You got the job!” Rhonda suddenly whooped in her friend's ear. But it seemed more like a distraction than an exclamation of happiness. Julia looked at Rhonda and the Manager. Her imagination? or was there something in the s.p.a.ce between them, around the building, wrapping tight around the theater doors, something that was just plain... wrong?
For the first time in years, she desperately felt the need to talk to her Uncle Justin.
Julia took a step back from Rhonda. Her friend's face suddenly fell, and she reached out to her as if to let her know everything was all right. She had the job. The Manager's eyebrow arched, perhaps a second thought as to his quick hire. She had to sit down.
”I need to sit down,” her voice echoed her thought.
”We've got the tickets, don't we?” Rhonda replied, taking Julia by the arm and leading her into the theater.
15. Chance Happens ”Good luck needs no explanation.”
-- s.h.i.+rley Temple Black
”So I says to this guy I says -- ”
The TV in the bar was on, and the man at Tom's side was letting his mouth run loose as he sucked back on his third beer in Popeye's none-too-copyrighted Pub. Jeez, he thought, I finally meet the one, the one, and she's going out with Kurt. With Kurt! How does he do it?