Meghan: rather

Would you rather

Kill or create

Eat or be eaten

Live or die

Be

Blind or crippled

Beautiful or ugly

Rich or poor

Smart or stupid

It might not be what you first thought

What you first wanted

Can change

Because change is the one thing you can never

-M

Meghan: Ice Cream

I feel like retelling the tale of the park and the car and the Thomas…so here we go

It all started when Jasmine savagely attacked Sarah with her knee (or Abe used Jasmine as a projectile to attack Sarah, not sure which), causing copious amounts of blood to pour from the innocent freshman’s nose. So we took a break from the glory that is laptag to watch her try to stop the bloody fountain with lots of tissues. It was then that the light playful sounds of an ice-cream truck could be heard on the wind.
I froze and whipped my head towards the sound while asking in almost religious tones, “Does anyone else hear an ice cream truck?” They did and all of our faces were pointed to where it coasted, gleaming and white, on the other side of the park. I blinked at it for several seconds, pondering running to the thing, when I was beaten to it by Thomas. He sped towards it with a childlike glee that would be his doom.
A heartbeat of silence passed and while we pondered what we would do Abe noticed that Thomas had left his wallet and everything on the table, and so would be unable to purchase delicious ice cream.
So he logically suggested that we take his stuff and hide it.
In the precious moments that we had, we scooped up all of the stuff on the table and started running away. Where were we going to go and hide said stuff? Someone suggested we take Thomas’ car, since his keys were so handily left with us.
Having decided on a course of action, while yelling at all of them that we were insane, we sprinted towards the gravel parking lot. After all, Thomas had probably noticed that we weren’t at the picnic tables anymore.
Sayre was the designated driver, being that he looked reasonably responsible, he got there first, and he knew Thomas better. He opened the car and unlocked the doors so that we could all pile in the backseat.
We drove Sarah home, we could have gone many terrible places but…we are good people and we restrained Abe.
In the car Abe sat in the front seat going through Thomas’ stuff and plotting to take over his identity. In the back were Me, Jasmine, Jarrod, Malcolm, and Sarah, doggy piled. We fit. Sort of. After dropping Sarah off we fit better.
After driving around a bit we headed back to the park and left the car in a different spot. We went back to the picnic tables and after failing to find Thomas there left to get ice cream at Dairy Queen figuring eventually he’d appear. We all got cones (except Jarrod who got a banana split khhh non conformist) and Abe told the nice DQ people that we took all of our friend’s stuff and if he wandered in there lost and confused to direct him towards the park. On the way back to the park we met Thomas coming across the road and all was well. He went to get ice cream and freak out the DQ people with some bloody rags…But it was fun.
But unfortunately I don't think Thomas will ever skip innocently after ice cream again.

-Meghan

Meghan: Ants

People are strange. College students in particular are the strangest, probably because so much has been dumped on them at once and it’s all they can do to keep their heads from exploding. Of course there are those who don’t make it and you can see the residual brain goo on the sidewalk or asking for your spare change. If only there was some way of making everything 100% efficient, then nothing would be wasted; money, resources, even people. Maybe brain scans for children? We could be like ants; this one will be an executive, this one will be a painter, etc. Well, slightly more complicated then ants. Then there would be a place set down for us, a steady income, and we know we wouldn’t have “wasted” any money on our children because they’re guaranteed to do something with their lives. If a parent knows what will happen to their child from the beginning, won’t they be better parents? After all, whatever they’re nurturing is a key to society, destined to play an important part. There would be none of that pesky risk that modern parents take, what with encouraging their children to do whatever they want to do. How can the children know what they want to do? 44% of college students switch their majors in their first two years. If they’re that indecisive at such a late age, shouldn’t there be rules laid out to help them make a steady path? What is the world coming to if it can’t even control its own children? With so much choice in the world comes chance and the greater the chance, the greater the risk. I propose a solution that would make the world a more peaceful and efficient place. By monitoring the young from a young age it can be determined whether they will contribute to their society. By age five, if they have been determined useful, they would be sent to the proper training facilities or families, depending on the appropriateness of the situation. If the child wasn’t deemed useful, then he or she would undergo a lobotomy and be trained for simple factory work. In this way the world can progress at a faster pace towards evolutionary superiority and cultural supremacy. It is the most obvious path towards a peaceful and happier planet.

sincerely yours,
Meghan

Meghan: Standing

When it comes for you, what do you do?

When you suffer, when your world crashes down around you; that’s the moment when the truth comes out.

Do you hide, do you run? Or do you fight for what you want.

You may fall, and fall, and fall.

Who cares? Do you?

While you’re falling, you’re still living. Breathing, eating, knowing, seeing. All around you stars are dying, crying, lying; even when you see them shining.

What to do, tell me, tell me? Give me a drop of advice for my parched throat. Whet my lips with that sweet sympathy.

Oh, you’re killing me

Give me more

Love me, love me

Hate me, hate me

Just don’t make me give it up. I want this, I need this.

Kiss of Bliss

But what happens when you have to stand on just your two feet? Will you fall without those extra pairs?

Because nothing is forever

What if an army of legs can’t hold you up? What if?

Will you fall?

Hey, you still have two

And they work just fine

-Meghan

Meghan: just keep swimming

What is the big picture?
What is the meaning of it all?
Why do we keep on fighting, struggling to live?
The truth is; there is no reason.
We exist purely on our own whims.
If you disappeared today, who would miss you? Would anyone’s life stop for little ol’ you?
When people pull down the big picture of life, the whole tapestry of it, and ask you intently “Why do you matter?” what comes to mind? Jobs, friends, places you’ve been, foods you’ve tasted, things you’ve created. But to the whole swirling mass of humanity it’s just a grain lost in the dessert.
So who matters? Maybe those great artists, inventors, or politicians of our time? Those ones who have changed things for the better? Newton, Michelangelo, Einstein, or Roosevelt (the hot one with polio)? But really what did they do that another exceptional individual couldn’t have done in their place? Where there is a need for creation, that creation happens. Whomever creates it could be anyone really, it was just chance that these famous people got there first. So are individuals needed? The rushing tide of homo sapiens the world has is eager to fill what nooks and crannies are left in ‘the system’. It’s a miracle that individualism is still valued. Despite all odds the fish keep swimming. And I ask, what is the point?
There is no point.
So you ask me, why you’re alive?
Because you feel like it.
You ask me what to do?
If you are alive at your whim, do what your whims tell you to do.

-Meghan

Meghan: New Years

This New years I’ve learned something that every college student, nay, every person, has to learn sometime in their life,

Alcohol is evil.

Oh yes, it’s lots of fun but after a night of it I can safely say that I’m hopping onto the abstinence wagon and chaining myself to the floorboards. At least for a week or so.

As I sit here blearily typing, more and more memories come back to me like little lost scraps of paper that I’m catching on the wind. Each time I catch one I alternatively sink lower in my chair or start laughing at the total ridiculousness of it.

Would I undo it? Hell no, parts of it were so fun that I would repeat the entire experience right this minute if I didn’t also have clear memories of those parts where my weak stomach gave in to the toxins I had been dumping into it. No, I will not be skipping off to purify myself or repent in the arms of a convent (though I won’t say it didn’t cross my mind in the more painful hours of my stupidity). I was protected by people I trusted so that I could do something hideously stupid and fun.

By the way, to those people who had to deal with us in our various states of inhibition loss; thank you, more than I can say.

Things I liked: learning to play chess, rum, everything was entertaining, getting trashed was a bonding experience, mind blowing sex, Jasmine’s robe, talking, sleeping, loss of gravity control

Things I didn’t like: throwing up, the dark, head stuffed with cotton, burning eyes, being helpless, cleaning after

I could recite the whole story...I could. But that would take a ridiculous amount of time and I'd like to clutch onto a little scrap of humility. At least for as long as it takes for someone else to post the entire damn story.

love,

Meghan

Meghan: Ashes

Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
Coals burn low
To bank the lust
Can you touch the
Fireglow

Ashes
Ashes
We
All
Fall
Down
Into
The
Well
Where
The
Children
Drown
Swim with the fish
And float in a bubble
This new dish
Is too much trouble

Double, double, toil and trouble
Fire burn and cauldron bubble,
Can’t you make the world stop spinning?
Fix the heartbreak,
Stop the changes,
Soothe the pain and kill the dangers?
Heal the bloody broken dove
Fix this thing that we called love

-Meghan

Meghan: It's the end of the wold as we know it

I blinked down sleepily at the papers stacked on my folded knees. My chemistry notes stared back at me; words I had read a hundred times and problems I had done a thousand more. But I was doing them again, yippee. But as I traced my finger across the paper a rattled breathe came from my right and reminded me that I wasn’t here just to study for my finals. Amanda lay twisted on the couch next to me, with her boyfriend Jason sitting on the floor next to her; clutching her hand. He made sure she breathed while I made sure her pulse still beat. Really, the chemistry was just a distraction, something to pet with my hands while I watched the flutter in her neck beat at impossible rates, then slow down to normal, feeling my pulse speed up with it.
As long as it doesn’t stop, they said, as long as it doesn’t stop.
And then her breathing; choked, gasping, coughing. Teas and cough drops and pills, but no, no, not the hospital. Too much money, too much trouble, for not enough results. We commandeered one of the dorm’s lounges because we have no place to nurse our sick bird back to health. And there we have been for the week, studying, bringing food, watching horror movies, and chasing away irritating girls who want to watch TV and bake cookies. I think…I should get some medical training. Like emergency response, medications, etc. Just because I want to save animals doesn’t mean I can’t save people too. At least the ones I like.

"It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine."

though it's 1:30am in the morning which may have something to do with that

-Meghan

Meghan: Break

I love you
I hate you
I just want to break you
Make you
Mmmmm…. Can’t you feel that?
Burn
Glory be, and glory me
Can the little people see?
Run girl run cause I will take you
Let me loose you know I’ll save you
Save me?
Oh you make me laugh
Laughing laughing
Down to the farm
Where the walls are white
All the doors locked tight
And these flames won’t dance anymore
Rattle those bars and shake those chains
Don’t you feel it?
I can’t stop it
Oh they’re breaking
Oh they’re crumbling
What? Come back my walls, my precious walls
What have you done?
Not me my love
Not me
you

-Meghan

Meghan: Sweets

“Would you care for a dessert?”
“Yes, I’ve heard that your house specials are to die for.”
The waiter smiled slightly as he poured wine into his patron’s glass, “To die for. Yes, I would say that.”
The portly man in front of him swirled the cup before wetting his lips with the drink, “I’ll have one. Bring it out when my friend arrives.”
“And will your friend be dining with us tonight monsieur?”
“No,” the man said shortly, “he will not.”
“I see.” The waiter started to turn as if to leave but then returned as if he had forgotten something, “One more thing monsieur, would you prefer your dish hot or cold?”
The customer raised an eyebrow at the peculiar phrasing of the question, but answered anyway, “Tonight I’ll take it hot.” He lit a cigar and dragged in a long breathe, “I’m not in the mood for cold.”
“Very good monsieur.”
The waiter strode away and barely avoided a collision with a thin man who threw himself down into a chair opposite the one with the cigar.
“What are you doing in my city?” he hissed to the beefy man across from him, “You are breaking things set down before your generation, who the fuck do you think you are?”
The giant man in the suit blew a huge lungful of smoke into the other man’s face, “Be careful boy,” he smiled, “You wouldn’t want to make me angry.”
“I don’t care if I make you—“
They both fell silent as the waiter wheeled to their table with a steaming silver tray, which he set in front of the first man. The shining dome slid back to reveal a beautiful fruit and chocolate dessert; with whirls of whipped cream and pudding making it look all the more sinful and delicious. The second man watched as the first loaded his elegant spoon with fudge and strawberries and thrust it into his wide mouth. A vein in the second man’s temple twitched and he asked the waiter, “What is it that my companion is dining on so voraciously?”
The waiter smiled peacefully and ignored the portly man’s meaningful look, “It is the house special monsieur.”
“If you would be so kind as to bring me one.”
“Of course monsieur. And would you like it served hot or cold?”
The man’s eyes narrowed to slits as he eyed his companion’s steaming dessert, “Cold.”
“Right away monsieur.” The waiter left.
The first man smacked deliciously on another spoonful of his dessert, relishing the moment when he had something that the other did not, “Where were we?”
“You were about to tell me why you and your men are in my city.”
“Was I?”
The younger man slammed a fist on the table, rattling the delicate dishes, “Damn it. Stop playing games with me.”
The other gobbled another spoonful of his dessert and smiled, “Can’t even control yourself at the dinner table? A little child like you can’t control this much territory. You don’t deserve it.” Whoa, where had that come from? He was usually a little more tactful than that. “Just because dear old Daddy is turning up daisies doesn’t mean that his precious baby can run the show.”
Of course what the precious baby didn’t know was that the suit-wearing man sucking down pudding across from him had been the one who put daddy-dearest in the ground.
But we can’t tell him that, no, no. The man clenched his teeth on his spoon. What was wrong with him today? He couldn’t even seem to keep control of his thoughts. He looked up to see his companion’s eyes burning into him.
They were both quiet when the waiter came by with the tray.
“Here is your dessert monsieur.” He said as he set the tray in front of the second man. The silver had a dusting of ice crystals on it and as the top slid back puffs of frost were released. The slender man barely looked at the concoction of sorbets and sauces that had been set before him, he merely kept his eyes locked with his opponent’s and thanked the waiter. The waiter wheeled away his cart; knowing that neither of the men would see him nor need him for a while. Both of the men dipped spoons into their desserts; almost mechanically, tasting but not tasting. Whatever confectionary miracles the cooks had made that day were wasted on the two enemies.
The first felt his heart gripped in fire and rage and knew that he needed blood to set it free. But to do that the man in front of him would have to break, would have to attack him. If his enemy attacked him first then anything he said or did would be justified. His frenzied mind held onto that word as chocolate dripped down his chin; Justified.
The second was gripped in a world of ice, where the fire of anger burned carefully in a banked bed. Every bite he took made him feel colder, more alone, and yet he knew what he wanted (needed) to happen.
“I’m going to destroy your company.” The first said it with a crazy grin, his teeth stained, “I will take everything you have and kill all of your men.”
The second just smiled.
He tried again, a little more desperate, “I’m going to kill your family; your mother, your wife and your little girl…what was her name?”
The other man sipped his wine.
“That’s right, Ana. Little Ana will die screaming.” He stared at his enemy for some change and saw that vein, pulsing lightly in his temple. He grinned like a mad dog, knowing that he was getting something
“Your little girl will die just like your father.”
The Second drew in his breathe sharply and his face flushed, “What do you know about my father?”
The First grinned, “What do I know about your father? I know he died like a coward, kicking and screaming like a little girl.”
Pulse, pulse went the vein, “That’s a lie.”
“Oh, I also bet you didn’t know that Daddy sold you all; the company, his family, everything, just if we wouldn’t kill him.”
“You’re lying.”
“But I’m not.” The man laughed, his belly jiggling, “Because I’m the one who killed him.”
Pulse, pulse, pulse
Come on, boy, feel that heat.
Ice, keep it together.
Burn, baby, burn.
The other pushed his chair back slowly and walked over to stand next to his enemy. He set his wine glass down on the table and leaned down until he was inches away; smelling the sweet-sharp scent of the chocolate sauce on the other’s breathe.
“You will not touch my family.” He said in a dangerously soft voice, “If you do, I will kill you.”
The other laughed, “Your threats aren’t worth much, because I’ve already killed in your family and what do you have to show for it?”
The thin man picked up his wine and sipped it, staring down his nose at the other, “Until you prove yourself no longer useful, I will keep you around.”
The big man barked out a laugh and downed his glass in one gulp, “And when would that be?” he asked sarcastically.
“Now.”
The big man grinned as he watched the other man reach inside his jacket with murder in his eyes; he finally had the little weasel! “WAITER!” He called as he clutched for the handle of a gun within his own suit jacket, sure that an attempt on his life was about to be made and he needed a witness close at hand for when he ‘defended himself’. But when he looked back to where the other man had been, he saw that he was sitting down and sipping his damned wine again.
“What’s the matter?” he grunted, “Attack me!”
“No thank you.”
“But I murdered your father; I’m going to kill your family.”
“I’m aware of that.”
The First man paused, confused, “Why don’t you want to kill me?”
“I already have.”
The waiter then came into the room, “Monsieur’s? Is everything all right?”
No everything is not all right, I’m dying! The First tried to scream at him as he stood up, knocking over his chair. But all he could manage was a choked sob as his throat swelled.
“I don’t know, I think something’s wrong with the food.” The thin man’s voice sounded concerned as he rushed over, knocking the other man’s wine glass from the table in his hurry.
“We have to call the police.” The waiter said in a panicked voice.
“Yes, could you call them?” The remaining customer grabbed his coat, “I’m going to go let his family know what happened.” He ran out of the room while the waiter pressed his fingers to the fallen man’s neck
“Let his family know what happened?” he snorted as he felt the pulse slow, “You have got to come up with better lies if you plan to run that company child.”
He heard heels clack on the tiles behind him, “Is he dead yet?”
“Be patient Yuki.”
Her heels tapped and she sighed, “Can’t I just take him down there now? I have some chocolate that needs to be mixed.”
The waiter looked up at the girl behind him; frowning, “You know we can’t let living customers down into the kitchens.”
The oriental girl smiled as she held up a glittering carving knife, “He won’t be living.”
The waiter sighed and got to his feet, “In the back, if you would. I have another coming at eight and I don’t have the time to clean up one of your messes.” The girl curtsied, spreading the folds of her pink dress out like the petals of a flower, and left the room to go find a gurney to transport the portly customer. No sooner had the sounds of her wheels dimmed into the darkness then the bell at the front desk rang. And that would be his eight o’clock reservation, party of five.
And how would you like your revenge monsieur, hot or cold?

-Meghan

Meghan: unstable?

“If the defendant would please restate her case?”
“I’m sorry Mr. Hendricks, but I just couldn’t help myself.”
“You couldn’t help yourself Ms. Bentz?”
“She was asking for it.”
The man in the crisp grey suit who had been pacing in front of the witness stand pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, “Are you saying that your suitemate literally asked you to knock her unconscious with a hammer and tie her up in a closet?”
“Well, no. But I’m sure it made her a better person fundamentally. It was for her sake really.”
The man just stared at the bright eyed girl in front of him for a few moments, “If you would please explain?” he asked in a strangled voice.
“Well, it’s hard to sum up in just a few words.” She sighed heavily and clasped her hands in her lap, “I can only say that it built from many nights of loud music, phone conversations, and screechy singing.” A tear slid down her cheek, “I just couldn’t take it anymore.”
Titters could be heard from the jury, and a security guard came forward with a box of tissues.
“Thank you.” She said in a hoarse voice as she dabbed at her eyes.
The lawyer ran a hand through his hair, looking from the jury to the crying defendant, “Would you say that you are emotionally unstable?”
“Yes.”
He blinked, “Oh. Then…”
“But isn’t everyone emotionally unstable? It’s more interesting that way.”
“Would you say that this instability led to your attack on your suitemate?”
“No, I think she’s just irritating. Or maybe it’s the fact that we have to live together in tiny rooms with thin walls. Whoever’s brilliant idea that was, that is who is at fault.”
“But there are plenty of people who don’t attack their roommates and suitemates.”
“She’ll grow up with a healthy respect for noise pollution. In fact I’d like to counter sue.”
The man looked at her, confused, “What? What for?”
“Emotional trauma.”
“But you attacked her.”
“Physically. But emotional damage is so much more crippling than physical, don’t you think?”
“You are unstable.”
“See you in court.”

-Meghan

Meghan: What to do?

I miss you, I need you.
Music blasts into her ears, funneled into her brain from electric blue earbuds
Sweat is pouring down her back, her neck, her face; dripping and flicking onto the mats
Mirrors, mirrors every where
Shadows, shadows flicker
One light burns in the doorway; lighting the way should anyone stumble upon her refuge
The windows are blocked with shutters. No one can see
No one should see
Leaning her forehead against leather, crazy smiles, laughing, crying
What is she doing?
Drawing her fist back she slams it into the punching bag, again
And again
And again
out of breath, gasping, hair sticking out in crazy direction, she swipes a hand across her forehead and leans with an arm around the object of her punishing.
In this little slice of heaven she can do what she wants, act as she wants, be who she wants. In the dark no one can see her; judge her.
Only, perfect is not so perfect
There seems to always be something missing
In this blissful solitude she can be who she wants but the people she loves are not here
What to do, what to do?
She pushes the bag like a pendulum
Back and forth it swings
And again she hits

-Meghan

Meghan: pride

Hey there hey
Got a light?
Get out of my face
Unless you want to die
I’ll rip your heart and drink your blood
Ha ha
Hey now hey,
Calm down little girl
Think now think
Whatcha gonna do to me?
What do you want old man?
What do you want little boy?
Leering, sneering, snarled thing
Reaping suffering, sewing hate
Stop, just stop
Out, get out
Won’t, child, won’t
Can’t, child, can’t
You keep me
You hold me
You tie me to you
No, no
Yes, yes
Out, out
In, in
I will kill you
You will love me
I will die
Ha, ha
Hey now hey,
Who cares?

-Meghan

Meghan: Lovely interpretations

I don’t like it.

I wish I could start a blog with rainbows and unicorns and other such happy things, but, well…sorry, that’s just not how I roll.

What don’t I like?

It all started when a group of friends from Taekwondo and I went to dairy queen a few hours ago, and for some stupid reason we decided to partake in friendly debate (haha friendly debate among opinionated college students, that’s funny)

We argued about McDonalds v Burger King, Led Zeppelin v Iron Maiden, karate v taekwondo, embryonic stem cell research v adult stem cell research, etc.

Eventually (I don’t know how) we started on the topic of love. The preacher in our group (it’s north Carolina, they’re everywhere don’t worry about it) asked us if any of us could define love.

Oh God, how in all hells do you answer that one? Well he gave us his answer (somehow delivered using spoons for diagrams):

“Love is when you tolerate someone else no matter what.”

I looked at him, staring, unbelieving that he could make something so wonderful sound so boring and mundane. Love=toleration? That’s it? That was so…the very thought was rejected by my mind as soon as I heard it. Maybe the definition made sense in some corner of my thoughts but the shining swirl of light that was love wasn’t toleration. Toleration was the thing that I did with people I didn’t like but couldn’t kill; so I just had to live with them. I don’t even ‘tolerate’ people I like.

I tried to beat Mark over the head with my ideas but he was so utterly convinced with his ideal love that I couldn’t convince him of anything. The closest I got was when I said in a frustrated voice, “There’s no possible way you can describe love, it’s just love.” He looked at me and said, “You’re close.” Thank you, I feel so much better. I will keep my interpretations and you can keep yours, and may you find love with them.

"Not a shred of evidence exists in favor of the idea that life is serious."

Brendan Gill

-Meghan

Meghan: Glory

screaming screaming screaming

Love, why don’t you just accept it?

She touches my hair, stroking and twirling the locks between her pale fingers

Get OUT! Get the fuck out of my head! I sob hysterically

I can’t sweet

one white fist clenches on a slim chain that trails from a collar around her neck

Besides

She grabs a hold of my hair and snaps my head back, blue fire staring into my eyes from inches away

Would you kill me if you could?

A sigh,

No

Painted lips smile

No?

No

A whisper ghosts across my skin

Let me out, love

I curl up into myself

No, no, no—

LET ME OUT!

Heat blisters along my skin; I can feel the rage the need—

NO!

Hissing like a snake, chords stand out in her arms and her neck. Golden hair ripples in flames and eyes blaze

She’s not so pretty now

You will not get out of me,

I know what you can do

She laughs

Because after all,

You’re me

-Meghan

"And since you know you cannot see yourself,
so well as by reflection, I, your glass,
will modestly discover to yourself,
that of yourself which you yet know not of."

-William Shakespeare

Meghan: Changes

I can feel the changes whispering on the edge of my mind. Burning through my veins like a sip of fire. Nothing seems to matter, or is it everything? Every minute the mind flicks, flits, flips from thought to thought searching for the answer, trying to put these pieces together. Some pieces fall together only to be torn from their places. But it’s not the ever-shifting puzzle that I’ve noticed; the puzzle is life; it’s always there. It’s the changes that have caught my eye and my soul. Not bone-deep earth shattering differences, just little shifts. Like this person speaks a little differently and that person is a little more emotional and this person more gentle. Then I wonder, am I different? How can I be cast to the other side of the country amid complete strangers and remain untouched by it all? Maybe I’ll return speaking in the honeyed tones of the south and shocked by the scandalous things my friends do. (not likely) But I think and I wonder, and I miss those who would help me thrash out my problems (and who I could badger with my "deep and philosophical questions").

-Meghan

Meghan: The Kit

One fine day in the middle of whenever, four of the Fearsome Fivesome decided to go see a movie.
Not just any movie. Iron Man.
(If you’ve seen this movie you know just how epic it is and fanfare probably starts playing in your head whenever you hear the name)
Anywho we drove to the theatre and bought our tickets while Doug and That Guy ranted in line about the film we were about to partake. If there was an alter to Iron Man, I’d say they would have sacrificed young children on it.
After snagging bags of candy we marched into the theatre to claim our seats.
The movie started.
Words cannot describe, you just have to see it.
If you want a spoiler, here’s the one I give to anyone who ever asks me for one: EVERYONE DIES!!!
There happy? Feel better? Okay let’s continue…
The movie ended and people filtered out slowly as the screen listed off the credits.
But the show was not over.
Jasmine and I turned slowly to look at Doug, holding our breath, tensing for the moment…
He started to twitch.
No, twitch isn’t the word that comes to mind; seize would probably be more accurate. And as he thrashed about in his seat he ranted maniacally about the pure epic-ness of the movie he’d just seen.
“Shit, it’s happening.” I said tersely, “GET THE KIT!!!!”
Jasmine pulled a gigantic briefcase out from under her chair that we bring with us when we see movies. She popped it open on her lap and rows of pills and bottles could be seen. She searched frantically for the bottle labeled ‘Iron Man’ but there were a lot of pills to go through. We really should have reorganized the thing after we went to see Wall-E. I climbed over to help her search while Doug continued his thrashing. Batman, 27 Dresses, Star Wars, Rambo, and Bearkillers all flew past my fingers. Aaaahhh… Those were good times. I stared off into the air with misty nostalgia until a bottle pinged off my forehead. I looked at Jasmine, who had thrown it.
“Quit getting distracted!” She held up the Iron Man bottle “We have to administer this.”
We looked at the writhing Doug, then at the bottle.
Normally we could have That Guy restrain Doug while we forced the pills down his throat, but That Guy was still basking in his own post-movie glow.
So I pulled out a pair of handcuffs as well as a long length of rope that I keep in my bag for such emergencies.
Jasmine and I circled Doug warily; climbing nimbly over the chairs. She was armed with the pills and me with the restraints. I lassoed him with the rope and jumped on his back. He bucked like a bronco, but I rode him down and as we both collapsed I handcuffed him to his movie chair. Jasmine jumped on his lap and forced his head back by his hair, popping his mouth open. She flicked the lid off of the bottle and poured in five metallic red pills. Then she closed his mouth and pinched his nose, forcing him to swallow. We both tried to hold him still as he thrashed violently. Then the pills slid down his throat and into his stomach (this took a matter of seconds; they were Iron Man pills after all). Doug quieted and Jasmine took her hand from his mouth.
We looked down at him warily.
“I’m okay.” He panted,
“Yeah right.” Jasmine said, “That’s what you said after you watched 27 Dresses and then you started crying.”
“I did not cry.”
“Yes you did”
He growled and she whacked his head with the bottle.
I sighed and started untying the restraints. Another disaster averted, another world saved, just another day.
-Meghan