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Don’t Look In The Mirror

Spawnette called around four o’clock this afternoon asking me to chaperone her and her friend, “Visigoth”, to see an “R” rated movie. Nothing sexually explicit or raunchy. No, they wanted to see a scary movie.

I love scary movies.

I got the movie time, location, and cash and was ready to go. As this is a weekend with FAPOS (i.e. dad) I told Spawnette I would meet them at the theatre and take the two of them home afterward.

Five o’clock the call comes.

They cancelled on me.

Well damn, those were the only plans I had for the weekend. I have nothing else to do but wash clothes, dust the house, scrub toilets, and bathe the dog and they had the balls to cancel on me?? Well piss on it, I went by myself.

I went to see the early show of the new Keefer Sutherland movie. He’s not one of my favorites but the girls had psyched me up for a scary movie so I purchased my ticket, got my snack (you cannot go to the movies without popcorn; it’s sacrilege) and grabbed a seat right in the middle – halfway up and halfway in…..the perfect spot.

It was the 5:40 show so I wasn’t expecting too many others in the audience. There were eleven others besides myself and one really creepy guy that had his hands behind his back while walking the rows the full ten minutes before the show started.

I failed to mention that I have this irrational fear. Okay, one of many but let’s not go there today because I’ve been in a pensive mood for the past two days.

I don’t look into mirrors in a dark room. I don’t want to lift my eyes and see someone looking back at me. Someone from the other-side, dead, no longer living, with milky white eyes and a death pallor to their skin. You know that lost, malevolent soul is going to reach through that mirror, grab you by the throat, and slither over the edge to finish you off.

Mirrors in dark rooms are scary.

I went to see Mirrors.

I rushed home before the sun set, turned on lots of lights, and am now sitting at the kitchen table with the hallway door closed and the dog by my side.

Cooper weighs a hundred pounds.

Cooper is a pussy.

I’m not going to the bathroom until my bladder is ready to bust so I guess I should slow down on the beer. Only one problem; the movie has now made me apprehensive of all reflective surfaces. Jeez-mo-ninnies, there are a LOT of windows in my house.
Great, I’m a pussy, too.

SHIT…..my backdoor isn’t locked and with my luck that scary guy from the theatre will come bursting through the storm door, grab me by the throat and slither over the table to finish me off.



I. Love. Scary. Movies.

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