Pretty Vacant

I had taken Vicki to the underground movie house once before, it really wasn’t much her style, she liked going to the cineplex to see a romantic comedy with some overpaid actress with hair extensions. I got a kick out of vintage sci-fi movies with low budget effects and horror movies with plastic knives and ketchup.

"Okay, hand me the tacos," I ushered as we got out of the car, "Did you remember to get the extra spicy hot sauce?"

"If I forgot you’d probably kill me," Vicki laughed, handing over the large, grease-stained bag from El Burro.

"Why did we park so far away?" She asked.

"If anyone saw me getting out of a nice car like yours, my whole cool factor would be blown," I said rolling my eyes dramatically, "In fact, here, wear this." I dug through my bag, pulling out a vintage Cyndi Lauper concert tshirt and throwing it at her. She held it up to her cautiously.

"You’re kidding," she said.

"Luke might consider throwing you out if you come in dressed like Malibu Barbie, grunge up," I said.

"Isn’t Luke…" Vicki started.

"What?" I said.

"Nothing, nothing…" she said innocently. We made our way in through the front entrance. In daylight, the place was practically an obscurity, hidden away. But if you knew about it, and you showed up at night, you were in for a suprise. It was an old theatre, draped in red velvet interiors and it had a strange old book kind of smell that no amount of Febreeze could ever permeate.

"Hey Luke," I waved to the guy at the counter. He looked up from a copy of Mojo magazine and grinned.

"Mara, hey, I knew you’d come out sooner or later," he said as he brushed a few strands of bedhead out of his face and adjusted his horn rimmed glasses, "Cool Bahaus shirt."

"Oh, thanks," I smiled, "I brought you your favorite."

"El Burro?" His eyes lightened up.

"Only the best for my favorite Bowiephile," I said, handing him a bag.

"Hey," he said to both of us, "Tickets on the house tonight."

Vicki leaned in as we got our seats.

"He’s so perfect for you."

I rolled my eyes at her. I hated it when she tried to be captain of my lovelife. Well, if it were a boat, since that's how I viewed it. A rolling ship on a tidal wave to doom.

Vicki looked horrified throughout the majority of the film. During the scene with the killer dolls, she managed to knock the bottle of Dr. Pepper out of the hands of the poor guy brave enough to sit next to us. Fortunately, Vicki broke its fall, splattering Dr. Pepper all over her lap. I laughed uncontrollably, and covered my mouth to hide the laughter.

When the movie was finished, a sticky and sopping we Vicky trudged her way back to the ticket counter.

"What on earth..." Luke trailed off as he got a good look at Vicki.

"Vicki messed herself. I guess Barbarella was just too much for the poor girl," I smirked as she stood there glaring at me.

"I spilled some guy's soda," she explained.

"Yeah, yeah, excuses excuses," I continued. She roller her eyes and scrunched her nose, a clue for me to shut up.

"Is there a bathroom in here?" Vicki asked, trying to wipe the soda off her dress. Luke pointed to a beaded door off to the left and Vicki dissapeared.

"Wow, Mara, your friend is hot," Luke gushed, "You think she’d be interested?"

"No," I glared at him. Vicki struggled her way out of the bead door, I followed after her and headed for the door.

"What’s wrong?" Vicki asked as we stood outside.

"I’m pretty much over the fact that every guy likes you better than me," I said.

"What?" Vicki asked confused.

"Luke," was all I could say.

"Luke too?" Vicki gasped, "I mean…"

"No, Vick, its okay. You can’t help that you’re so attractive to guys. You’ve got that whole Marilyn Monroe vibe just emanating from your every pore. Me? I’m just that chick who obsesses over comic books and horror films and says really snotty things to everyone," I said.

"I think I’ll just stick to being madly in love with Tom Waits, and if no other prospects come along," I said, "I’ll just buy some cats."

The End

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