Contemplations of a Sick Mind Inside a Movie Theater

I like going to the movies. Not because I'm huge movie connoisseur (which I am anyways, and yes I just wanted to use that word in a sentence) but because during a time period that starts with engaging in an extremely boring conversation with a mentally demented person that you might run into during a social event, and eliminating the possibility of chemically enhancing your mood, you make that decision. It also minimizes the conversation with your friends who might join you; which can be a plus sometimes.

However, I've discovered that the movie theatre is not what it used to be. It's become more of a social gathering place where self-proclaimed movie critics gather to discuss and bewildered by the minutest details of the movie; no matter how stupid they are. And the worst thing is: even if you're seated on the other side of the theatre, you can still hear their whispers and laughs. These are your new compulsory (and hopefully temporary) friends. What will make matters worse is when one of the geniuses (who's seen the movie before a hundred times) tries to score points with a lady friend of his by explaining some plot twist that is yet to occur; like he possesses some superbly analytical skills. Or could it be that he can foresee the future? As a matter of fact, his brain is definitely no larger than that peace of popcorn that he's about to shove down his throat (and regrettably doesn't choke on)

You probably haven't realized this. But the movie experience also expands your musical knowledge and I'm not talking about the movie soundtrack (which you won't be able to listen to anyways due to the aforementioned). I've realized that you can stay up-to-date with the latest (and possibly crappiest) pop songs, as they belch themselves out of the movie critics’ cell phones, and straight into your tired ears. Could it be that I am surrounded by people of the highest calibre that have to be on call 24-hours a day: surgeons, cabinet-members and possibly famous world leaders? That would definitely explain the desire to leave their cell phones on (at a maxed up volume, mind you). I quickly dismiss that thought.

The brain reacts with mixed feelings of anger, revenge and despair as you picture yourself shoving that very same cell phone down the throat (or any other body cavity of your choice) of our old future-predicting genius. Or, on a lighter note, you simply with that very same genius to continue over-indulging himself on popcorn until his already humongous lower-back get even bigger and bigger and bigger until he can’t get out of his chair. Firemen and policemen, and hopefully surgeons would eventually rush into the place in order rectify the situation. He ends up experiencing excruciating pain during the process, or simply having to walking around for the rest of his life with a chair stuck to his ass. I’d prefer the latter since I’m not such an evil-minded person.

Now, what was the movie about again?