"The world doesn't make any heroes outside of stories ...well not live ones anyhow. And I love myself far, far too much to be heroic. I'd much prefer iconic over heroic ...at least icons get a free round of drinks somewhere besides hell." ~ Harry Lime
After school, I drift down to the Old Folks Home, and let the Raisins know I am going out to meet a classmate for an extra credit thing at the Maltese Theater in Fallon. Which in a way is sort of true, more or less? Because it turns out that May gets extra credit in her theater class for going to plays. Because of the obvious issuee, movies pretty much qualify as the equivalent of a play for May, at least according to Teacher Theater.
So after narrowly avoiding another round of Death by Twenty Questions. I pretend to do some homeworking in not my room, until the clock says time to bail. I take the Deathwish bike out of the garage and fire up the bad boy. With a final nod farewell the Irish Antichrist glaring at me from the kitchen window, I motor down one town to Fallon.
The Maltese Theater on Main Street turns out to be one of those ancient revival theaters. Built back when the Raisin's referred to movies as "talkies". It even has one of those the vertical neon marquee signs, and a detached ticket booth right in front of the velvet curtains on brass and glass doors.
Per May's strict instructions, I am waiting in the dark back of the Plaza. Where a small pack of thirty or so ardent skaters are trying to kill themsleves. From the looks of them they are just a bunch of junior high delinquents, all taking turns trying to break their bones and stones. So I name them the Bones Brigade.
One little nutcase in particular, I've dubbed The Suicide Kid, for the 'Suicidal Tendencies' skeletal motif helmet. He reminds me a little of Gromit's psycho little brother Squid Vicious, but not nearly half as coordinated. In an effort to impress his comrades, The Suicide Kid has made several daring attempts to rail slide down the handicapped ramp to varying degrees of success. His next trick is a horrible attempt to skate along the cement planter, then fly over a trash bin, only to crash on the bricks below.
I'm pretty sure Suicidal was supposed to get some momentum going first, before trying push off the cement planter for the few feet of clearance before jumping off. Unfortunately in his excitement to kill himself on the bricks, he must have forgotten that part of the trick. So instead of launching off the planter into the air and over the bin? The Suicide Kid barrels straight into the trash can, careening off the side and landing head first on his Skull, with a bone breaking crack at my feet.
He slowly rolls over and sits upright, shaking off the last of the brain damage. After which he only has two words to say to me.
"Crazy me?" He peers up at me to assess the damage to his helmet. Which based on the jagged crack on the side, looks about as broken now as his own skull must be.
"Yeah, you crazy cool, bro." I nod in agreement.
"Cereal cool." I am unsure if he means a slurry 'serious' or the breakfast food. But he grins with a grimace, rolling himself back upright for another go at death by misadventure.
In my limit experience with this small subset of skaters, The Suicide Kids are always broken, banged up and battered. Like vertigo and pain is like their big thing, their raison d'être. Without it, they would be normal and boring and maybe even sober? And trust me when I tell you, no one wants that ...especially them. So they mummify themselves with duct-tape bandages and Skate or Die skull stickers, and keep trying to glean the cube ...even if it kills them.
Ten minutes, and probably three fractured bones later, I spot the black Range Rover with limo tint windows slide up to the sidewalk in front of the theater marquee. The rear door opens and out jumps April from the passenger's side in her cheery best, to help her sister slowly exit the moving vehicle onto the uneven sidewalk.
The broken Bones Brigade have stopped their death-defying and begin whistling wolves at someone's super short skirt ignoring them. May says something to her sinister sister, who immediately jumps back in the Rover. Slamming the door behind her to the clear disappointment of the Boners, who were hoping for some spirit.
I am up and walking at her, as black Ranger immediately rolls away, leaving May alone to fend for herself. It strikes me as somewhat odd, that her parents just dumped her off in front of a relatively dark plaza full of whistling wolves? Then just rolled away for the Big Game, without even bothering to see her to the door... let alone give me the once-over? But then again this is San Fall, so what could possibly go sideways, right? Even though this place literally bleeds small town strange, it's not exactly the crime capital of the west coast. But still, the whole scene strikes me as kind of cold on some level.
"Maybe I'm here." I call at her when I am close enough for her to hear me.
"Well, hello there danger stranger." May smiles, as I skid to a halt in front of her. "So you come here often?"
"As a matter of fact, this is my first time, strange girl." I counter back, her classic pick up line.
"So you all ready for your first blind date there Dare?" May grins mischievously. "Or did you get cold feet?"
"Naw not." I snort in retort. "I even brought an extra pair of socks, just in case. So ready, willing, and able when you are."
"Okay then, let's do this thing." May holds out her free arm for me to take, which I gladly do.
So I embark on a tour of the dark world of Maybe, and a fascinating glimpse into the shadowy places she inhabits. A rare chance to explore her dark world, without the normal crowd of stares and glares, and I don't cares. The first denizen of May's midnight world to meet and greet is Doris the movie lady, who runs the Maltese ticket booth.
"Hello May Belle, and how are you faring this fine night?" The ancient blue haired Raisin smiles through the ticket booth window.
"Hi Miss Doris." May beams. "I am doing just fine, thank you for asking."
"One ticket coming right up!" This little blue-haired raisin is way too happy for her own good.
"Better make it two Miss Doris, I brought a friend." May exaggerates a wink. "A gentlemen caller, don't cha know?"
"I see." Doris chortles along playing her part, but still gives me a calculating look over. "And a handsome young gentleman he is at that."
"Yeah, he's alright I guess? Or so I keep hearing anyway." May mugs appreciatively.
"Well alrighty then, that will be five dollars even." She beems happily.
Wait, five flocking bucks for a flick for two? Where I am from that is straight up robbery ...but on our part. But just as I am pulling paper for the payout, May kills my macho.
"Nope, this one is on me. My blind date, my treat." May sniffs contritely, and insists on paying for the movie as her treat and hands over a folded triangle.
Oddly, this is first time I get to see May use money. Which I must say is far more interesting than it might sound at first glance. Primarily because all May's money is in origami. So watching May conduct her business is impressive, to say the least.
Now here is an inventive and clever darkside May thing, that makes complete sense, once you see it in action and understand the why's of it all. May "obviously" can't read money numbers, right? So how does she tell a dollar from a five, or even better a hundred? Like for instance when she is out and about doing her weekly bazaar shopping. Maybe the merchants in Venice Beach are fair, or maybe they're as crooked as their teeth. So buyer beware, right? Wrong.
It seems when May gets her money, her sinister sister takes the money and makes origami with it. Using different folds for different denominations. Ones are simple squares, fish for fives, triangles for tens, stars for twenty's, and cranes for hundreds. So with a simple feel of her finger, May can tell you exactly how much money is in her bowling bag at any given moment.
"Well May Belle, I hope you enjoy the movie, it's an..." Doris leaves it hanging.
"...an all-time classic." May finishes laughing, in what can only be a familiar banter between these two dark denizens of the night.
It's becoming increasingly clear to me that this is by far not May's first time at the Maltese. Which all things considered is "obviously" a bit disconcerting to me for some reason. So I follow along as May sticks her way thru the open brass and glass doors, and into the theater lobby.
The Maltese lobby itself is seriously old world faux opulent, with floor to ceiling hanging velvet curtains. There is one of those old style round couch things in the lobby, that just looks like a perfect place for May to recline in the lap of old-world luxury. This place even has an antique popcorn machine in the corner popping away. Even crazier yet, the sign on the machine says: "Free - with the price of admission."
"They have free popcorn?" I blink. "You want?"
"Oh yeah. Popcorn, no butter please." She smoosh rolls her free fingers towards me. "Bad butter make walking stick slipper fall down go boom. May no like slipper stick fingers." She instructs in a Butchering accent in honor of football night in San Fall.
"Okay, Mayster. You want to wait on the round couch thing or come with?" I am sort of at a loss trying to figure out whether to just move her around like a chess piece or ask her to tag a along.
"Oh just try to keep up, Mr. Devil." May grins and starts sticking towards the popcorn machine.
We end up standing in line behind a couple of old raisins. Who are having trouble reaching into the popped bin and retrieving the cracked corn, with the slippery scooper and dumping it into the conveniently provided brown bags. Based on Gampy Raisins awkward movements I get the sense that the hip replacement is recent, and someone has not kept faith to his rehab regimen at the pool.
I can see that Gammy is starting to get perturbed and a mite irritable. She has clearly had enough of this scoop up the popcorn, drop the popcorn crap, that he's been pulling for the last five minutes of, "No dammit...I said I can do it!" from gruff and grumpy Gampy Raisin.
"Looks like a tricky angle, may I give it a try?" I offer politely in the language of the old world.
"Oh yes, thank you so much." Gammy Raisin beams up at me as her new time savior.
"Oh by all means, please help yourself." Gampy Raisin replies dourly dropping the scoop. Clearly not happy with my impetuous impertinence impatience and irked that I have stolen his "I can do it!" thunder in front of Gammy Raisin.
"Cool." I edge him out of the way. "So butter or no butter, ma'am?"
"Everything is better with butter." Gammy chortles along. Just by the double neck waddles, I can attest to the fact she means this "everything" to death.
"Okay two bags, extra butter coming right up." I drone servantile and start shoveling cracked corn into the skinny brown bags.
"You look so familiar to me?" Gammy eyes me slyly and then snaps her fingers at me. "Oh wait, I know you! You're that lifeguard boy from down at the old Annex pool, aren't you?"
"Yes, ma'am." I nod positively "I work for Mr. Blake at the Annex."
"I knew it!" She smiles at Gampy, and looks pleased as punch with herself that she remember something relevant.
I hand over two bags of extra butter popcorn. Mr. Raisin gives me the "Don't even think about it whippersnapper!" glare stare as he takes the bags from me and hands them to Gammy Raisin.
"Thank you so much." Gammy Raisin gushes a little too hard for Grandpa Raisins taste.
"Com'on Mary Margret, leave the poor children be and let's find our seats." Gampy rolls his eyes and heads into the velvet tunnel pulling Gammy along.
"Damn Mr. Devil, looks like I can't take you anywhere without making new friends, can I?" May snickers.
"You know me, I just love me my Raisins?" I drone, and quickly fill two more greasy brown bags, full of May's unbuttered lightly salted cracked corn.
So we follow the ancient Raisins lead and enter the old velveteen tunnel of love into the thankfully bright theater. I'm thinking this has to be by design, as dark slippery slopes and four-pronged Raisin canes is probably a bad combo.
"So where do you want to sit?" I look around the nearly empty theater. "Back, right side, left side, end isle? Personally, I tend to be partial to the sides row slants. So no one blocks me..." I falter slightly but recover quick. "...when I have to go to the restroom."
"Actually, I like to sit right in the front. You know, so I can see the screen better?" May deadpans me hard, and it's pretty clear I wasn't quick enough on the uptake.
"Ah..."
"Dude relax, that was a joke." May snorts.
"And it was a good one." That I am so boy dumb insensitive, that it didn't occur to me that we have very different priorities in movie seating. To May a movie is more like a concert auditorium or a play. So its the best line of sound that is optimum, and not best line of sight is the call of the day.
"Personally, I like the front the best." May lists out all her Maltese pet peaves. "No blocker talkers, side snoring, and the mid-movie bathroom stampedes that way. So if you don't mind let's just mosey on down to the front middle? And as far away from the raisin rustlers and their plastic bags as possible."
"Sounds like a plan." I nod and we both keep standing still.
"Maybe I was wrong about you Mr. Devil? You clearly have not spent a lot of time around the civilized folk have you?"
"Ah...naw not?" I kind of have to agree with this. "Why?"
"A great big thank you to women's lib and all? But this is definitely one of those times I wouldn't mind Mr. Man taking my hand." She extends her hand towards me. "Maybe leading this little damsel down the sticky, slippery slope ramp in the dark. I mean it is dark, right? Cause I don't know about you ...but I can't see a thing in here?" She laughs along with herself.
"O shit, my bad. He said forgetting to open the car door on to her hand." I counter, and carefully insert my forearm underneath her hand, unsure exactly the preferred mechanics for this moment. I watch her feel her way up to the crook of my elbow and clasp around the inside of my forearm.
"Okay, my knight in shining armor, so shield arm always on the left." She informs me as she adjusts my arm forward to her liking. "So you hold the shield out and move steadily forward, while I sort of drift along with you. Okay?"
"Okay, then here we go." I slowly start down the suddenly super dangerous incline that I never thought twice about before.
"Oh, and do try to be careful of the fresh gum." May instructs. "Cause gum on the sharp end of the cool walking stick, definitely cuts down on the awesome tapping sound I am so fond of making for fun. So sticky gum girl with sticky stick is kind of a bad thing."
After cautiously weaving through the gummy landmines, of which there are more than a few. I finally get us situated dead center in the front row. Which is kind of weird, because I don't think I've ever actually sat in the furthest front of a movie theater before. The view from way down here is quite different from the rest of the seating, to say the least. I heartily suggest that everyone should watch at least one movie from the front row in their life. It's an unforgettable experience ...to do once.
When the lights flicker twice and then slowly dim down to crepuscular, the movie previews start. But instead of watching the old black and white "News Reel" from World War II, I am struggling to try to find a comfortable spot in front of the big screen looming over me angrily. Having seen the movie before, I don't really have to pay too much attention the myriad of betrayals suffered by our hero Harry Lime. Which finally culminates in his death in the sewers beneath post-war Vienna.
Which was lucky because the Raisins behind us are making quite a lot of racket. Between the unwrapping candies and loudly whispering to each other, "What did she just say?" I completely understand why May picks the seats closest to the blaring front row speakers. Because noisy Raisins with plastic bags bag full of whatever, are seriously the second worst as far as movie goers go, just after crying baby banshees. But better than banshee babies, after about a half an hour into the flick, the vast majority of the Raisins soon settle into a slumber.
I spend the majority of the movie only half-watching what's going on in post-war Vienna, but paying a lot more attention to May's reaction to the show. I have to say May is seriously into this flick so far, grinning in childish glee as she ferally munching away on her unbuttered popcorn. I watch her smile grow ever wider as the twists and turns of Lime's many machinations finally lead up to his karmic death.
When the movie credits finally flicker to an epileptic death on the pearlescent screen to the most addictive instrumental of all time. In my humble opine, the shades zither of Anton Karas are just as addictive now, as it was when Orson Well's heard them in that wine cellar in post-war Vienna.
"Well, I can certainly see what you mean by rough childhoods having an impact on your morals?" I intone without thinking.
"Tell me about it." May snorts. "So what was your favorite part?"
"To critique or enjoy?" I retort.
"Oh definitely to critique." May smirks.
"Then definitely the disappointing end where Uncle Harry dies." I sigh sadly. "What that poor sweet soul could have accomplished had he lived? The foster care system alone truly lost a shining light of change, on that fateful night in the sewers under Vienna."
"Foster care? Very subtle, Dare." May snickers. "Seeing the plot of the movie revolves around Uncle Harry selling tainted penicillin to orphanages, resulting in horrible consequences."
"Yes, but in all fairness to your Uncle, those were foreign babies." I harshly point out the truth. "Sad truth is a lot of the big pharma corporations do exactly the same thing now. Only difference is they just call it expired asset relocation. So in a lot of ways, I suppose you could say your Uncle Harry was just way ahead of his time ...morally speaking. A true visionary in the arena of third world pharmaceutical sales."
"A true visionary, huh?" May smirks and shakes her head. "So what else you got going, Mr. Sensitive-to-the-Light?"
I get what she is doing to me now, picking apart my common usage and twisting it around on me. Using her linguistic skills to keep me off balance and at a decided disadvantage.
"Well, I don't want to speak badly about your family, but it did seem that Uncle Harry's girlfriend was a bit disloyal there at the end." I point out the hard truth. "Just saying."
So as we sit chatting away like a couple of critics through the credits, unitl the lights finally go all the way up to blazing bright. So the rustling raisins are reminded once more of their own mortality. It occurs to me to wonder if anyone has ever had their last "dying wish" fulfilled in this anarchic fantasy factory. Spending they're final moments just fading from one dream into the next nirvana cycle style.
"Anyone ever come back one last time to see their favorite film? Then got gone out with a rattling sigh at the perfect 'Fini' moment as the final scene fades." I finally voice my karmic concerns to her.
"Not since I've been coming here, for the last couple of years." May snorts. "But like Buddhists say ...there's always next time, right?"
"Maybe we'll have better luck next time." I can't help but agree.
"Oh, you poor Devil...no souls for you to steal this night." May stands up to stretch herself out. I am once again reminded once of how ethereally slight and transcendently wispy this dark nymph is.
"So on that sad death note, we should probably revel in our own mortal coil. Tap-tap our way out of here, before you make any more new friends."
"Lead on, Bowanna, the native raisins are starting to get restless." As clearly evidenced by the first rustlings of plastic bags, as the rest of the raisins get ready to rumble out of this place. "The electric wheelchair crowd in the back row are looking especially energetic to me."
"Be nice, Mr. Devil." May sighs with a smirk.
So up the sticky ramp we go, carefully avoiding all the gummy landmines. On the way up the ramp, I eye the Gammy and Grampy duo, both of who are knocked out and leaning head in like nappers. It's kind of creepy cute the way they are snuggled up next to each other like there is no one else in the world that matters. I give Grampy Raisin slight nudge on the shoulder in passing, just to let him know it's time to rock and roll.
"Mary Margret?" I hear Gampy starling behind me in passing. Which makes me reconsider again how much not fun "our last night out on the town" might be for your last date night.
"What Walter?" I hear the Gammy sigh sleepily. I think both Gampy Walter and I let go a breath neither one of us realized we were holding.
By the time we roll out of the Maltese, it's 8:30 'ish and Main street is nearly deserted. Save for the few final raisins rolling down promenading towards The Happy Hearths transportation vans. Three of which are idling in front of the theater curb, loading the rollers up for their final ride back home for the long sleep goodnight.
"Well, movie night was definitely cool. So what else you got planned for us this evening?" I inquire innocently. "Matching teardrop face tatts, to mark the moment?"
"No...pizza." She licks her lips with a devious smile. "If we get into Leo's now, we can slip in and out pretty fast."
"The trick is to always get there after the game starts, but before the victory and agony of da feat crowd shows up." May imparts some local wisdom regsrding football night in San fall. "That way you can get a pie in less than the time it takes for them to sober up and throw pie in the oven.
"Cause in about forty-five minutes to an hour, give or take a few foul calls? This entire plaza is going to be crawling with families of four and more. Woohoo'ing in victory toasts as the Falcons soar to another year of championship, and putting off those postseason teen pregnancy trips to the saddest parking lot in Three Valleys." May raises her fist in mock victory. "Cause da Fall'cans...are going all the way this year baby!"
Of course, she is absolutely right as usual. The plaza is a practically ghost town, all but the Suicide Kid and the most ardent bonebreakers are long gone. Those few who wish to take advantage of the complete lack of mall security, former Fall'cans gridiron mongers. To spend some quality time slamming their sticks into the bricks and ride the rails with wild abandon.
Even though I am a skater, I find myself being slightly irritated with the constant Olie slams these Boners are doing off the back of the handicapped ramp. Even more so because I can see the effect the board bangs are having on May's orientation as we walk across the plaza to Leo's Pizzeria. She practically jumps out of her skin when one after another of the Boner smacks his board at the bricks, after failing to land yet another impossible circus flip trick.
As we make our way across the dim plaza, May is leaning into my arm a little harder than she normally does as cross the plaza. I am not sure if I should thank The Suicide Kid and the Bones Brigade for this or not?