The Cinema Butcher

Seventeen-year-old Steven Scott greeted the cinemagoers as they made their way out of the packed movie opening night. Holding the cinema door open and nodding his head as the last of the patrons made their way out, he grabbed his broom and dustpan, sucking in his breath as he made his way inside the movie theater.

The sight that greeted him was one of horror, one that he had seen several times. Popcorn littered the floor, and it looked sticky. Hot dog containers, nacho cheese containers, and empty candy boxes—and candies—were also strewn across the floor and left on the theater seats. Soda containers also lay on the floor; some were left in cupholders.

As he went to the first aisle to start cleaning, he felt something wet and sticky touch his shoe. Looking down, he discovered a puddle on the floor. "Oh please, let it be soda!" he wailed internally. After six months of working at the theater, he discovered that mysterious puddles weren't always soda.

He needed the money to get away from his abusive, alcoholic dad, trying to save as much money as he could before his dad had promised to kick him out once he turned 18 in a couple of months. "I can finally be done with you," his dad had seethed, Steven's only crime being born. His mom had died from birthing him – and his dad had never recovered emotionally from losing the love of his life.

As he got to work cleaning up the theater in time for the next showing in 20 minutes, his anger bubbled up, and he shook his head in disbelief at how people could treat the theater as their trashcan, at how they could overlook that someone would need to pick up after their mess. He was tired of being a personal maid, of being a punching bag by his dad, of being overlooked and underpaid. For probably the first time in 17 years, he didn't feel sorry for himself. He felt rage.

Steven sighed with relief the next night as the last showing was almost over. This time, it was a horror movie, and he was free to go home once he could clean up. Making his way over to the theater door, he held it open as the movie finished and the few customers began making their way out.

"What's up, dingus?" Steven looked over to find one of his classmates – no bully - looking over at him. "Sorry," scoffed Marcus. "We may have left quite a mess in there." Smiling, Marcus and his two other friends, who were also bullies, high-fived each other. "Yeah," said one of his friends. "We had a popcorn fight that got a little out of hand."

"Don't worry, though," replied Marcus. "Dingus here will clean it up. We heard you were working here, and we just had to ensure we keep you busy."

Steven didn't know Marcus still held a piece of popcorn, but he launched it directly at Steven.

It hit Steven in the middle of the forehead.

Marcus and his friends laughed, beginning to make their way out of the theater.

Steven's rage started boiling. As he stepped into the theater, he saw popcorn pieces everywhere he looked: in cupholders, on the floor, and in seats. There was sticky soda and other substances on the floor—and he just knew that Marcus and his bullies were responsible. Something in him snapped, and gathering the strewn popcorn and some other items discreetly from the snack bar, he decided to visit Marcus.

Whether Steven could take his dad's car out for the night was a crapshoot. Usually, he would take the bus to and from work and sometimes an Uber if he missed the last bus. But occasionally, he could sneak out in his dad's car, as his dad was often passed out and would never know when Steven took his car out for a spin as long as he was careful.

At 2 a.m., Steven wanted to be careful. With his supplies securely in the back of the car, he made his way to Marcus' house. From what he had known about Marcus, his room was at the back of the house, and his parents were heavy sleepers, something he had heard over and over again, especially since Marcus had mentioned time and time again that girls could sneak easily into his room.

He quietly took his things and went to the back of the house, hoping beyond hope that Marcus was there, that the window would be unlocked, and that Marcus would be in the room alone.

Fortune smiled on him that day, and he climbed stealthily into Marcus' window, quickly crossing over to his side of the bed to duct tape his mouth shut. Marcus stirred, and then his eyes popped open as he realized Steven was trying to handcuff his hands and feet together. They both thrashed around. Steven was afraid of making too much noise but was intent on the mission. Although Marcus was bigger and heavier than the two, Steven held the element of surprise, and Steven finally managed to handcuff his hands together. Working quickly to secure his legs – and getting kicked in the head by Marcus in the process – Steven finally managed to handcuff his feet together at the ankles. He placed another piece of duct tape over Marcus' mouth and stilled. Despite the noise, the house was still silent.

Marcus' eyes looked wide, and although horrified, there was also curiosity.

Steven laughed silently, turning Marcus onto his back on the bed.

"I'm a dingus, right?" he looked at Marcus. "I've been so sick of you and your friends bullying me. And so not only do I have to see you at school and deal with you, but you also come into my place of work and make things harder for me. Well, let's see how you like it."

Steven grabbed his backpack, took out a plastic bag filled with popcorn – and dumped it onto Marcus. "Here's your popcorn back," Steven laughed as he dumped the contents onto Marcus. Marcus tried kicking and moving but didn't get anywhere, so Steven ensured he stayed on the bed.

Taking a can of soda out of his backpack, Steven opened it and poured it all over Marcus' face.

"Some refreshments for you, too," Steven laughed.

"Finally," Steven said, "I have dessert for you."

He took out a box of Junior Mints and, against a struggling Marcus, began shoving the candies up his nose. Marcus, his mouth securely duct-taped, struggled to breathe. His eyes pleaded with Steven, his chest moved slower and slower, and then he finally stopped.

After that day, Steven disappeared, but murders continued nationwide. A man was found dead – his airway covered in popcorn. A woman was found murdered in her car, drowned in soda. Another man was strangled, with one junior mint found in each eye socket and popcorn stuffed into his ears.

Police dubbed Steven the "Cinema Butcher." Always an intelligent kid, police say Steven changed identities, moving around to different theaters as a cinema worker or a moviegoer – and strikes when least suspected. He has murdered over 30 moviegoers – people dubbed particularly disrespectful in littering their theater – and has evaded capture for over 15 years. A small group of people call him a hero, but the rest of the people say that murder is always wrong. However, moviegoers, on the whole, have been keener on discarding their litter over the past 15 years.