A man from corporate came into the theater today. I asked to see his ticket and he laughed in my face. “I guess I should let everyone with that excuse in” I said, which he didn’t seem to like.
He pointed to the concession stand and gave me a long speech about everything they were doing wrong. “They’re all out of popcorn,” he bawled, “This is a travesty! Do you have a storage tank somewhere?”
“I think so.”
“You THINK so?!”
“Well, the managers never showed me where it was.”
“For god’s sake, who trained you?”
“Yeah, he used to work in the ticket booth ‘till they fired him.”
“Well, good riddance.”
“You know, he said the same thing.”
“It doesn’t matter, look at that line! Look at it!”
He was right – the snack counter was mobbed.
“You go help them,” he said, “I’ll cover your post!” “But you’ll miss your movie!”
“THE MOVIE’S NOT IMPORTANT,” he cried.
When they close the theater that should be its epitaph: “AMC THEATERS – THE MOVIE’S NOT IMPORTANT.” The company had spent so much time obsessing over the extras that they’d run themselves a monopoly charge. Every time there was a new advancement they’d have to build a new theater, and each time it took the place of an old one. Soon it was the only game in town and Johnny Law took notice. Our theaters were being trust-busted.
I’d grown up seeing movies at this theater, so it hurt me especially. Every time I’d probe the halls it’d bring up memories. Not all of them were pleasant, but still, it was a part of me nonetheless. Now it was going to become another storage center thanks to the man from corporate and he was telling me to go get popcorn. I did, of course, but only because I didn’t want to lose my job.
After searching for a good 15 minutes I gave up and went to the roof to spark a jay. The man from corporate was still standing at the door, his movie now over an hour in. I didn’t really feel like relieving him.
The man from corporate was still there when I got back. Miraculously, the popcorn machine had been fixed and the line had dissipated. He congratulated me on a job well done, though couldn’t remember seeing me do a thing. I told him I was just that fast. Instead of leaving though, he just took off on another rant about the dangers of “under stocking.” It took me a good minute and a half to figure out he wasn’t talking about some kind of women’s apparel.
“Hey, you cut your hair!” a voice said from behind me. It came from a cute Latino girl barely tall enough to look over my plywood podium.
“What?” I asked, ignoring my lecturing boss.
“Your hair,” she said, “You cut it. I remember last time I was here I said you looked like Jesus Christ.”
“Oh! That’s right! You know, I kept a list of all the things people said I looked like while on the job, would you like to hear it?”
“Well, one guy said I looked like Elijah Wood.”
“I could see that.”
“You said I looked like the son of god.”
“Don’t let it go to your head!”
“And one guy told me I looked like the reverend Al Sharpton.”
“No joke, I think he must’ve been blind or something. Everyone knows I’m only black from the waist down.”
She giggled. All the while the man from corporate kept talking. “You remember that drawing I took from you?” she asked. I was drawing a blank. “It was this one,” she said, lifting up her shirtsleeve. There, inked on her shoulder, was Abe Lincoln downing a beer funnel. I’d drawn it while stoned on Fourth of July weekend. It was the only way to get through a shift like that.
“You got it tattooed?” I gasped.
“I told you it was good!”
“Wow, I don’t know what to say, that’s so . . . just wow . . . What’s your name?”
“Nice to meet you Rosa, I’m Vlad.”
“I know, I can tell by your nametag. I didn’t know how to pronounce it though.”
“It rhymes with glad or fad. There aren’t any tricks to it.”
“Nice and up front, I like that.”
“So what’re you doing after the show?”
“Why don’t you see me then and find out?”
“Because I might miss you in the flood of people.”
“Well then sweetheart, I guess you’ll need my number.”
After Rosa left I turned back to the man from corporate. He’d stopped lecturing and had gone quiet. “What can I say, I’m a minimum wage renaissance man” I laughed.
“Yeah, compliments are nice” he replied vacantly as he walked off towards his theater. His shoulders were slumped and he looked defeated. I had something that he’d never have, no matter how powerful he was on the corporate ladder.
His movie let out five minutes later and I saw him walking out with his family. His wife looked as though she’d been steadily letting herself go since the 1980s and his kids wouldn’t shut up. As he walked past I flashed him the piece of paper with Rosa’s number on it just to rub it in. He let out a sigh and went back to tending his screaming children. They were upset because they hadn’t gotten any popcorn. The movie wasn’t important to them.
Welcome to the new Klog! Wasn’t liking blogspot’s headaches, so let’s see what WordPress can do.
I’ll try to import all the pieces from the other site, if I can figure out how.
Don’t think I’ll do the introduction. Hopefully the page will explain itself.
O sweet boroughs of intoxication!
A kid drops his first blunt, passing out and gently shitting himself in the Bronx
Irishman welcomed ashore with Ketamine in Queens – later he’ll be fighting
The weed of Brooklyn, the kegs of light backyard beer across Staten Island, all wanting
That vomiting girl, eighteen? nineteen? drunk on well vodka
Fouling a chaise and her skirt on the Lower East Side, O Manhattan
O New York!
Handicap: 2 strokes
A long narrow single green with two small hills as obstacles. On the second hill a young woman sits weeping, a potential distraction to the player.
Handicap: 4 strokes
A large model of a windmill block the entryway from the first green to the second, with it’s spinning sails. The windmill pumps water from the greens into the adjacent pools. There is a hole in the dike, which the player must plug with his or her finger while putting and attacking the windmill with his or her club. When the windmill is dismantled, both greens will begin to flood, hampering the player’s accuracy.
Handicap: 6 strokes
The first green is submerged in one foot of corn syrup. Biologically engineered goldfish swim through the corn syrup creating slow currents that move the player’s balls along on their course. There are a number of openings in the aquarium where the corn syrup flows into a solid wall of tree sap at the base of a miniature.
The players either hit the ball into the sap or atop it, where it sinks in. Both ways the ball is submerged. After millions of years the sap hardens into amber, and the amber from the ball is cut from the block, polished, and mailed to an independent evaluator, who prices the amber golf ball, and sends it back The Putt Putt. The ball is delivered via a Rube Goldbergian system of wire tunnels and transportational devices, onto the third green of this hole, a conventional circle of Astroturf with the flag-hole and one small hill as an obstacle.
Note: Place this one close to the refreshment area.
Handicap: 3 strokes
A long single green with traps of sand and water on each side. A rich figure dressed as Satan offers the player one thousand dollars to write down six strokes and move on to the next hole. This offer should be refused and the hole can be easily completed in two or three putts.
Note: Some cynical players might view the one thousand dollar temptation as too enticing, and may be willing to throw the hole for the sake of the money. It is a depressing indicator of a society in decline. Those wicked souls that do should be paid in gift certificates to the Putt Putt, which will take them an onerous number of visits to fully redeem and, of course, subject them to “The Temptation” countless times. .
Handicap: 3 strokes
A row of holes leads to a system of tubes that deliver the player’s ball to the second green. Inside the tunnels is a tiny robot Minotaur. There are large spoons of yellow thread, which a player can wind around his or her ball in case it gets stuck in the Labyrinth, in which case they can be pulled back out. After the ball comes out onto the second green, it is scooped up in a basket attached to a system of pulleys by fine crafted wax wings. The pulleys lift towards a large incandescent light bulb suspended over the second green. As the wax wings melt, the baskets spill the ball onto the green, where another putt or two should complete the hole.
“Iraq and Afghanistan”
Handicap: 6 strokes
Sounds of recorded applause play when you exit the first green into the second, a series of sand traps and rock obstacles.
Note: Players may loose a number of balls, and they may purchase new ones for a small fee. The Player may have to start over in the first green and in fact his or her ball may never have left, only been forgotten. This hole may drag on and on with no end in sight. Place close to the refreshment area.
“The HealthCare System”
Handicap 1 Stroke
Players who have purchased all day passes may play this hole, others will have to take the detour to the emergency hole, the price of which will be deducted from the all day pass holder’s credit cards. Non-pass holders may play this hole, but will be billed until they have no money left, and must foreclose on their homes. There is a wave shape in the first green, which must be navigated to get to the second green, which has a small hill for an obstacle. There is also a hospital.
“Jack and the Beanstalk”
Handicap: 5 strokes
There is a spinning green beanstalk in the center of the first green, with broad leaves spiraling up the stalk into the cloud layer, which contains the second green. A player climbs a spiral staircase to the cloud layer, while a leaf scoops up the ball. On the second green the player is threatened by giants who sing infantile poems and try to eat the player. There is also a robot cow on the first green, creating obstacles with its metal hoofs. Puffy cloud shapes function as hills.
“The Masked Ball”
Handicap: 6 strokes
Everyone is disguised. The player must guess who the player’s allies are, and who are the player’s enemies, but the attendees keep changing faces. The player can trust no one completely. And what is the answer to “The Second Riddle of The Second Sphinx?” The Ball is transported by envoys through back channels finessed by black-market bribes. As the player climbs the unspoken chain of command, the net tightens in a suffocating game of layered deceits. There are two hills, one large, one small, and a water trap.