Movie Night IV

@theo

Ernie dumps the boombox onto my lap and gets out, slams the driver’s door shut. But instead of returning to the back seat, he starts after Dad.

“Wait—where are you going?” I ask, clambering out as well.

“To watch your pops chew out the Kaufman folks,” Ernie replies.

I grab my spray bottle and run after him. Together we navigate between the other cars, trying to find Dad, but he’s already lost to the shadows. I can see the concession stand glowing indistinctly in the impossible distance, though. Worst case, we simply make our way there and meet up, right?

There’s a nervous energy in the air. Uncertain figures lurch to and fro in the flickering light of the projection screen. In fact, there are probably more people out of their cars than in, stumbling around, taking selfies, chasing after each other, making out. I swear that’s neon goo blotting their lips, speckling their hair, dribbling down their nearly-naked torsos. Like, I think people have been eating the neon goo, and it’s making them drunk or something.

We pass this one car rocking back and forth vigorously, its fogged-up windows flashing blue and red like there’s some kind of retro disco going on inside. Somewhere nearby I hear a laugh and a snarl, and a sound like sloppy chewing.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” I whisper, stepping close beside Ernie and aiming my spray bottle defensively.

He disregards me with a wave of his hand, goes up to the retro disco car and presses his face to the driver’s side window in an attempt to get a peek inside. “You have a bad feeling about everything—holy shit! I see titties!”

“Great. Can we go now?”

Ernie shoves me back. “In a sec!

I pay a nervous glance to my left, my right, down at the asphalt. A thin layer of fog is seeping between my toes, shrouding my feet.

“Geez!” Ernie whispers, his face very nearly fused with the glass of the window at this point. “You think they’re eating each other out, or just plain eating each other?”

I look up. The sky’s become a Technicolor nightmare. “Ernie, we should go…” Spray bottle at the ready, I start to reach for him again—

—and suddenly the car door flies open, knocking him backward.

Love is a little red pixel heart

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Dookie, a cheesy horror novel by Jesse Gordon

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Jesse Gordon

Geek. Writer. Supreme overlord of the SUPERMEGANET pseudoverse. Author of THE OATMEAL MAN, DOOKIE, and other such wasteful nonsense.