Intermission

@theo

Okay, so taunting the neon goo drive-in theater cannibal dude with my prop dagger isn’t working. Nor is Ernie’s clinging to me like some kind of giant bath-toweled blob. “Dude,” I say, and start to push him away—

OkayfineiwishihadBestButt!” he blurts, squeezing my hand so hard it hurts.

I blink. “Huh?”

All I got is raw cookie dough with a coin slot in it fuck you for winning Best Butt without even trying there I said it!”

“Okay, technically Tommy Carlton won the award, and said award was given to him by Robbie the Friendly Friggin’ Pedophile, and can we not talk about this right now—?”

“Cut!” yells the director.

Wait—there’s a director?

The neon goo drive-in theater cannibal dude straightens, lets go of his wang, spreads his arms as he glares past me and Ernie. “What is it this time?”

“Our fault—lighting issue. Take five, everyone.”

I look at Ernie. He looks at me. Still holding each other, we rotate in place to find that we’re standing on a cheesy movie set from the 1950s. Cast and crew are adjusting lights, repositioning microphones, fiddling with fog machines. A pair of DPs are changing film reels on cameras placed off to one side, where a frazzle-haired director goes over scene notes with his assistant. Kaufman’s Drive-In is still here, it’s just a painted backdrop now.

“What the fuck is happening?” Ernie rasps.

“I have no clue,” I reply. “I think we’re dead or something.”

The neon goo drive-in theater cannibal dude walks casually over to us, cell phone in hand. (On closer inspection, it would appear he’s not, in fact, naked, but is wearing flesh-colored briefs with a giant dildo attached). “Can you believe there’s actually a Bill and Ted Face the Music?”

A makeup gal appears out of nowhere and starts dabbing at my face, teasing my hair. Ernie’s, too. “Um…huh?”

“Reboots gone wild.” The neon goo drive-in theater cannibal dude holds out his phone for us to see. “As if TMNT and Picard weren’t bad enough, now there’s Bill and Ted.”

“It could be worse,” the makeup gal says.

“What could be worse than Picard?”

Billion Dollar Baby.”

“No, Trillion Dollar Baby.”

Admiral Kane.”

Psychos. You know, like how they re-did Predators in 2010.”

The Lost Men.”

Weekend at Bernie’s IX.”

The Greater Outdoors.”

Uber Driver. Completely CGI Robert De Niro.”

One More Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.”

Another Tango in Paris.”

Dances With Wolves Again.”

Greatfellas.”

12 Angry Women.”

The Darker Knight.”

The Darkest Knight.”

Madder Max.”

Even Madder Max.”

Maddest Max: Ultimate Max.”

The neon goo drive-in theater cannibal dude looks thoughtful. “Is there a job where you just sit around all day inventing movie titles for shitty Hollywood sequels and/or reboots? Because we’d be fucking killer at it.”

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.