Movie Night

*TW: This short story contains frequent coarse language and one use of a homophobic slur*

I immediately knew this first date was off to an abysmal start as I sat next to my date in the movie theater and the guy sitting next to us let out a fart that could have been mistaken for a gunshot. Mike and I flinched at the sound and the guy guffawed at his violent emission of methane. His poor wife/girlfriend shook her head in a way that seemed a little too accepting for such a disgusting faux pas. Unfortunately, we were the only witnesses to this crime, as the rest of the theater was otherwise empty. Mike leaned his head out to see if he could make eye contact with the guy to express his silent disapproval, but the nasty creep was too busy shoveling popcorn into his mouth and making weird sexual comments about the green M&M in the commercial onscreen. Defeated, Mike looked at me and shrugged. Despite his imposing size, the level of chivalry he was apparently willing to commit to was nasty glares. Not that chivalry was too common between fellas, but I wouldn’t have minded it. As a twink with the appearance of a female-presenting actor from the days of Shakespeare’s all-male productions, I certainly could play the damsel and act horrified by this buffoon, but I remained silent. As all these thoughts were going through my head, the smell hit our noses.

In my thirty-two years on this planet, I have whiffed some major stinkers whether natural or artificial. My mind had trouble conjuring an olfactory-based memory as foul as what this creep released into our theater. It was as if a dump truck full of moldy cheeses got stuck on train tracks right as a locomotive stuffed to the brim with three-week-old decomposing corpses crashed headlong into said truck. The fiery aftermath of this vehicular disaster with old dairy and spoiled meat cooking in the flames of destruction is the closest example I could think of for what came out of this dude’s ass.

As the movie previews started, Mike and I plugged our noses and waited for the rank smell to pass, once again exchanging baffled looks. The guy continued on with his conversation as if he didn’t just violate the Geneva Convention with his digestive system.

“All’s I’m saying is that they don’t make cartoon characters you want to fuck anymore like they did with Jessica Rabbit. Closest thing you get is the big-titted bitches in anime. Animators in the West are too prude nowadays!”

Mike tapped my shoulder and gestured with his head for us to move down a few seats away from the horned-up freak. I was bummed that we had to give up our prime center seats, but if it meant getting away from Mr. Mustard Gas, I was willing to accept that. He picked up our slushie and I grabbed the popcorn as we shifted four seats down. Paranoid that the stink had somehow infected the popcorn, I gave the tub a good sniff. Thankfully, it maintained its heavenly buttery, corny aroma. I popped a handful into my mouth, taking my time to savor it, happy to move on from whatever the fuck we just witnessed. I could still hear him mouthing off, but at least I couldn’t make out the words.

We turned our attention back to the screen which was currently showing a trailer for a home invasion horror movie. The actors in it seemed to be a bunch of no-names, just there to get brutalized by masked killers. I used my Grindr profile to proclaim myself a “Homo for Horror” and I try to earn that title with my refined taste in all things spooky. Home invasion movies didn’t do anything for me. I needed subversive, messed-up shit that would seriously traumatize any of those fake horror buffs that went for cheap jump-scares and supernatural slashers. As I looked over at Mike who seemed compelled by this snooze-fest, I realized he might be one of those fake horror buffs, but I was willing to let that go since he was hot as fuck and made me laugh a few times over chat.

The trailer ended with two potential victims getting backed into a corner by an assailant in a bunny mask wielding a machete inching closer to them with a dramatic music stinger that signaled an immediate cut to black. “Slaycation 2” dripped onto the screen and I rolled my eyes, letting out a bemused snort. I looked at Mike, who innocently shrugged and said, “I think it looks pretty good!” Thank God he was a stud.

The green MPAA screen popped up for the next trailer and I casually looked over to the fart weirdo to see if he was up to any more shenanigans. Only his wife/girlfriend was sitting in her spot. She politely put one kernel of popcorn into her mouth at a time. Odd way to eat the snack, but way less bizarre than her beau’s behavior. The sound and stink of his little episode would lead me to believe he shat himself. Maybe he was in the bathroom cleaning himself off or better yet: maybe he went home, unwilling to sit in his filth and subject his significant other to such a travesty. The next preview was for a torture porn thriller where a disturbed artist snaps and decides to make installation art using the living bodies of his victims. This seemed more up my alley than the last trailer, but still not really my thing. All gore, no brains.

While my eyes were focused on the screen, my nose picked up on something else. A mix of cheap greasy snacks and body odor. I couldn’t have missed that smell from Mike when we first met and hugged. He smelled immaculate. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure sitting beside Mike in a spot that was previously empty. Startled, I jerked towards the individual, causing some popcorn to tragically fly out of the tub and hit the ground. Mike, following my lead like a good dog, turned and had the same reaction. The creep was leering at us from the seat next to Mike.

“Hey boys. You don’t mind if I sit here, do ya?”

Mike decided now was the time to get serious. “Actually, we’re on a date, so we wouldn’t mind being given some space, especially considering your smell and general fucked vibes.” He just said we were gay and called this potentially bigoted shitbag out like it was nothing. He’d probably throw down if this fucker let out a homophobic remark. Stern and giving serious dommy daddy energy. Solid combo. I nodded in agreement with him, hoping the guy got the picture. Really weird how he ditched his significant other who was still sitting in her spot, seemingly unaware of this developing situation, but she wasn’t the issue here.

“Well, worth a shot! Real reason I came over was ‘cuz my lady and I over there were wondering if we could borrow some of your cherry slushie. We got the cola one and it’s got like no syrup in it. It’s like all slush and no flavor. Fucked up, right?”

This was getting weirder by the second. He may not have called us fags, but this wasn’t much better. Mike once again grabbed the slushie, then grabbed the popcorn out of my hands and aggressively gestured with his head to exit past the weirdo’s date. He went past me, so I dutifully stood up and followed him. As we went past his date, she said in a hurt voice, “We only wanted some slushie!” Mike and I ignored her and walked to the back of the theater. Seeing the anger in Mike’s face, I could tell he was one more interaction away from losing it with these freaks. I did my best to placate him, putting my hand on his.

“Let’s just go, we can catch a later showtime.”

“No way, Grant, we can’t let this fucker win and ruin our time together. He probably gets off on making normal people as uncomfortable as possible. We’re staying right here and enjoying this horror movie. Fuck him.”

“Alright, if you say so.”

By this point, two or three more trailers had played and the movie was starting. The theater lights lowered and I took a sip from the cherry slushie, ready to enjoy the movie. I breathed in the smell of Mike’s cologne, sandalwood and musk, and cozied up next to him. The production company logo animations started to play. I looked down at our old row and saw that the guy and his date were gone. We never saw them leave, but it wasn’t something I wanted to worry about anymore.

---

The two of us walked out of the theater, shaking our heads at the craziness of the movie, thoughts of the weirdo long gone from our heads. It had just the right amount of elevated horror themes with plenty of crowd-pleasing violence and scares for the normies.

“So, how does that rank for the Homo of Horror?”

I pushed up imaginary nerd glasses and said in my geekiest voice, “Well, actually, I’m a Homo for Horror, and this homo had a wonderful time. It doesn’t quite crack my top fifty of all time, but it comes close. What about you?”

“I may not be as sophisticated a spooky connoisseur as you, but I definitely recognize it was an excellent movie. All the scenes in the inbred mutant cannibal family’s old-ass mansion had me glued to the end of my seat!”

We reached the edge of the sidewalk, leading to the parking lot. A moment of silence passed between us. It seemed like neither of us wanted the night to end, but we were unsure how to ask. So, I gave it a shot.

“How about –“

“My place?”

Each passing moment made Mike seem more and more like my type of guy. I nodded and he texted me his address. We exchanged a brief kiss and then split off from each other for our cars. Things were definitely looking up after that rocky start.

---

Getting out of my car, I saw that the apartment building Mike lived in was pretty swanky. He certainly couldn’t be accused of slumming it. He was waiting under the awning of the front entrance, smoking a cigarette. As he saw me walk up, he dropped it and stepped on it.

“Hope you don’t mind my habit. Haven’t been able to break it.”

“Eh, I’ve dated guys with way worse habits, smoking’s nothing to worry about.”

He smiled and used his keycard to open the door, holding it open for me. I tipped an imaginary hat at his gentlemanliness and went inside. In the lobby sat a jovial security guard who nodded at us and wished us a good night. From there, we headed upstairs and reached his door. As he opened it, he pulled me inside, closing and locking the door behind him, leaning me against it. He deeply kissed me on the mouth, pressing himself against me. He pulled me deeper into his apartment, arms around my waist, unbuttoning his jeans as I unbuttoned mine. I closed my eyes as he guided our bodies through his living room and into the bedroom. Then, he tripped over something and let out a gasp. Unsure of what was going on, I fumbled for a light switch in the darkness of his bedroom. Our hands happened to meet at the same time on the switch.

On the floor was an extra-large slushie cup from the theater we were just at, its brown contents spilled onto the floor. A cola slushie.