Cinemaddiction (Part 1)

The cinema...A magical place where, for a few hours, we can leave our pathetically boring, depressing, and horrible lives and enter a world of magical adventure, phallus-erecting romance, and ridiculous humor. For a short time, our heads are filled with something other than rage, self-loathing, alcohol, and where next to masturbate. For a brief time, we are swept out of our seats and into a place that could only have been concocted in the mind of some ridiculous, drunken, half-crazed script writer, sitting in his disgusting studio apartment, slogging cheap booze and dreaming of super-stardom. Whereupon leaving the theater, we slide back down, further into our deep depression, realizing that what we've just witnessed on the silver screen isn't and will never be us. Then we hit the closest bar and the rest is kinda hazy.

Given that my life has been a tad shitty as of late, I've been trying to spend more and more time at the movie theater, indulging in the delights of moving-picture bliss so as to forget about the putrid compost heap that my life has become.

Unfortunately, attending a film in this horrible, dark day and age that we find ourselves living in has become quite expensive and due to the fact that I am currently completely jobless, I am finding it harder and harder to keep my belly full of food and booze and STILL be able to gain admission to one of these flicks (legally that is). That's why about a week ago, I decided to print out my own tickets that would no doubt be identical to the ones issued at the venue, thus gaining entry to the movie free of charge. However, to my extreme dismay, I quickly came to the sobering realization that I don't own, and have never owned a working printer, so this was not going to be an easy task.

I found myself at the local library, where free internet and printing is provided. The only stipulation is that the person attempting to use these services must have a valid library card (as I was so rudely informed of by the old crustacean of a librarian as I sat, tinkering with the printer, yanking random cords and wires from the back, trying to get the ancient monstrosity to function correctly). Since I did not have one, I stormed the front desk, walked around it to where the elderly librarian was seated, and forcefully demanded a library card. The woman seemed taken back and accused me of "encroaching into her personal space", whereupon I demanded a card immediately and threatened her with a crisp facial smacking if she refused. After half an hour of hostile bickering, she agreed and forced me to fill out an enormous stack of paperwork and provide my drivers license as proof of identification. New library card in hand, I proudly strutted towards the rear of the library where the computers are located.

There were no computers available at the moment so I stood directly behind a small boy who was apparently writing messages to his ridiculous friends on something called "MySpace". He didn't seem in any hurry to get off anytime soon so I made my anger apparent by grumbling loudly and kneeing the back of his chair every few seconds until he finally leapt from his chair and walked hurriedly away, no doubt fearing for his life.
"These computers are meant for business purposes only, you immature beast!" I shouted after the boy, sliding into the chair that he'd graciously warmed up for me.

I took a few original movie tickets from my pocket, opened up Microsoft Word, and began to meticulously type out what I read on the originals, ensuring that the spacing and font were identical. Then, I pulled out a list of current films that were showing in the theaters in my area and typed them onto the new tickets. Finally, I had completed tickets for every movie showing within the next month. I proudly proofread my work and hit the print button. I stood and walked up to the front desk where the printer is located. As I sauntered up, I noticed the terrible old hag looking through a stack of papers that she'd pulled from the printer.

"Sir, do these belong to you?" the old bag spouted. Her face looked like an old baseball mitt. I suddenly had the urge to play catch. I thought of my father and grimaced.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, they do." I stated matter-of-factly.

"Are these fake movie tickets sir?" the senile woman questioned nosily. "I really cant allow you to have these. It's illegal."

My temples throbbed with rage. I'd just spent over an hour creating these perfect forgeries and I'd be damned if this old boiler was going to withhold them from me.

"I'll tell you what's illegal, you antique waste of space!" I shouted, fiercely snatching the papers from the woman's grasp and walking briskly towards the door.

I could hear her demoralized cries of anguish behind me as I walked out the door into the parking lot. Her ridiculousness and desperation made me chuckle heartily as I climbed into my Chevy, cracked open a fresh brewsky, and sped out of the parking lot, almost running down a small girl who was carrying a stack of large reference encyclopedias.