To the Swine

To the swine who sat next to me at the theatre yesterday:

When I pay seven dollars to see a film and four dollars and twenty-five cents for an accompanying drink, I expect to be seated in relative comfort and have all of the drama confined to the screen. Imagine my disappointment when you rushed in as the movie was starting and plopped down almost in my lap. There I was, trapped next to you when the theatre was ninety percent empty.

The first thing I noticed was that you are a smoker. Your stink wafted over me from the first frame of the film through the closing credits. Buy a clue! Anytime you feel the urge to visit civilization, take a walk through a full service car wash first – and use the wax cycle! Don’t think that just because you like the odor of stale smoke that everyone else does too.

As I was finally beginning to focus on the movie, the seven-dollar movie, your wife came in with the eats. It was so considerate of her to discuss each and every item on her tray. And then there was all of that scintillating conversation that they two of you engaged in each time the scene changed on the screen. “Yep, that’s a dog all right. Yep, that dog’s dead. He sure is.” I don’t know how the Coen brothers managed to make that film without your insights.

Now for the issue of your wife’s cell phone. True, she came in too late to see the friendly reminder on the screen about being polite and turning off all electronic gizmos, and true, she may be short of common sense because she did, after all, marry you. But did she really have to sit there and answer the damned thing when it rang? Granted, she did get up and walk to the exit to talk, but she never stepped through the exit, and everyone in the theatre was treated to the details of her converstaion. And in the unlikely event that we didn’t hear it all, she came back to her seat and recited the entire call to you!

Do you remember that deranged serial killer in the movie? You might want to keep an eye out for him because we are in negotiations!