My landlord wanted to reward my babysitting his two kids with an evening at the cinema.
AVATAR in 3D. Just the two of us and a joint of green goo ganga. First night. A snow storm forestalled our excursion and the window of opportunity remained shut during the holiday season.
“Wait until I get back.”
The two nights ago the allure of watch-movies.net proved too powerful and I viewed their blurred version of AVATAR on my Mac. $300 million of FXs chucked down the tube, but I stuck with the simplistic story to the end. The next day my landlord called to ask about the house.
“It’s still standing.”
“And the cats.” There are two.
“Shitting where they’re supposed to shit and eating regular.”
“Did you see AVATAR yet?”
“Yes.” There was no point in lying. “I watched it on my computer.”
“Heretic.”
“Yes, I guess I am.” Not that I like sitting in a dark theater with a horde of popcorn-munching teenagers. “I still enjoyed it. Sexy alien bitch. I think she was naked. PG-13. And she was skinny too.”
“You are so predictable.” My landlord hung up on me. He was disgusted with my inability to contemplate a cinematic event far from my computer. He was right. It’s not easy for me to be in public. An older man in the dark with young people. It’s a crime waiting to happen. Better to stay at home and avoid any aggravation. I am a little cranky after all.
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