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Murder In The Movie Theatre
by Shelly Howell
Shelly Howell is the owner of Shenanigans Entertainment, a Los Angeles writing services company for advertising and entertainment. She launched an online comedy site - -- in 2008 and also works as a screenwriter with four feature scripts in development with producers in Los Angeles.

I love movies. I love huddling down in my chair in the dark with no distractions, munching on popcorn, and getting lost in the story being told. Lately this is a problem, because other people ruin movies. For some reason they seem to think it’s okay to chat on their cell phones, discuss (at a normal volume) the pros and cons of Angelina’s breasts and kick the back of the chair each time they cross their legs. I’m a magnet for these rude, self-centered morons who can’t tell the difference between their own homes and the multiplex. I’m the one in the back who you hear screaming: “For God’s sake, stop talking!”

The other night, during a boring action scene with a generic superhero, I spaced out. I suddenly had superpowers. When the cell phone down below opened and the beam of light pulled my eye to the corner of the theatre, my arm stretched out – cartoon style – and snatched it away from the teenage pimple-popper who had to read his text message. With lightning speed, my long arm snapped back, and with a soft CRUNCH, his phone trickled off my hand like a shattered cracker.

Right after that, the woman behind me crossed her legs and kicked my chair. I whipped around and rose out of my seat like a ghost. Hovering for a moment above her, I breathed fire across her and her date, melting them down to their bones like the famous scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark. I reduced them to ashes.

I turned back around and tried again to focus on the film. But sure enough, the guy in front of me asks his date, loudly, which restaurant she’d prefer. They discussed the benefits of P.F. Chang’s and The Cheesecake Factory. In one swift move my cartoon arm swooped to the ceiling and opened the trap door. I pushed the imaginary button on the back of their chairs and jettisoned them through the roof. Eat that, honey.

Published: Sep 8,2008 14:59
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