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birthright_rpg2013-11-05 08:18 pm
whistlersmum) wrote in birthright_rpg2013-11-05 08:18 pm
Science Fiction/Double Feature
'May the drive-in never die', Whistler thought to himself.
It was just past dusk, and The Blob was about to ooze itself across the outdoor screen. He'd hooked the speaker inside-out on the Impala's driver-side window, so the audio would project outward. He rested against the windshield, shoes off so as to not scuff the new paint on the hood. It'd cost him enough to get out of the impound and repaired. He wasn't about to cause any more damage.
A cooler full of beer sat on the roof of the car, an open can to his right. A jumbo bag of popcorn rested on his lap.
This took him back. The Globe in England; the Colliseum in Rome; watching Oedipus Rex in the original Greek. But nothing compared to a good old-fashioned drive-in theater.
And Steve McQueen. No one could touch him. Not even Olivier.
(Open to anyone.)
It was just past dusk, and The Blob was about to ooze itself across the outdoor screen. He'd hooked the speaker inside-out on the Impala's driver-side window, so the audio would project outward. He rested against the windshield, shoes off so as to not scuff the new paint on the hood. It'd cost him enough to get out of the impound and repaired. He wasn't about to cause any more damage.
A cooler full of beer sat on the roof of the car, an open can to his right. A jumbo bag of popcorn rested on his lap.
This took him back. The Globe in England; the Colliseum in Rome; watching Oedipus Rex in the original Greek. But nothing compared to a good old-fashioned drive-in theater.
And Steve McQueen. No one could touch him. Not even Olivier.
(Open to anyone.)
no subject
As a human, before she discovered the wonders of cocaine, she used to go there with her parents. It was one of the few good memories of what was generally a shitty home life. As a vampire, she'd gone to see films with her sire, at least when she could get him off his ass to go with her. Now that Dane wasn't around anymore, it was nostalgic for her.
She'd gotten the biggest bucket of popcorn they offered, and the largest soda. Not that refreshments mattered when she couldn't really taste them, but she liked the crunch and the fizz. It was the principle of the thing.
Clarence's orange paint job made the Beetle stand out from the other vehicles in the lot, so it was easy to make her way back to the car. She'd parked next to another old beater, an Impala. There was an older dude sitting on the hood of the car. Theresa arranged her purchases on the hood of the Volkswagen, plucked a few kernels of popcorn out of the bag. She hadn't seen The Blob in ages.
no subject
He was most happy with the classics; they took pains to get the physics right. Not like that movie he'd seen two months ago, Fright Night. A late-night TV horror host as vampire slayer? Seriously? The Agent wished more people shared a passion for good old fashioned scares.
Like the girl sitting atop the pumpkin to his right. Maybe there was hope for the latest generation? Whistler tipped his beer towards the brunette, a sign of respect.
no subject
"You can't have gotten those here," she said, indicating the cooler with its load of extra beers. "Domestic or imported?"
no subject
The agent took a gulp, and nearly choked. It taste as good either way. After a good ten second coughing fit, he held out another to his movie partner. "Gotta see some ID first though. Make sure you're twenty-one."
no subject
The vampire fumbled out her wallet, showed her fake ID to the guy. Her short arm made it a stretch from one vehicle to the other. Then she tucked it back out of sight again.
"I like your hat," she said randomly as the drive-in's screen stopped showing animated refreshments and started featuring a cartoon. Tom and Jerry chased each other around a one-dimensional living room. Their theme music sounded tinny coming through the speaker attached to the Beetle's window. "Somebody I used to know had a hat like that."
no subject
Whistler leaned over the car, stretching out his right hand with the bottle of beer. "And it sounds like our friend had rood taste."
no subject
He looked over at the Impala when he heard the hiss of a cap. Man, he would kill for a beer. Actually, he would kill for a bottle of glue to sniff, if it took the edge off his gloomy state. Brian tipped a box of candy into his mouth. His passenger seat looked like he suffered from some kind of binge disorder: an empty hot dog carton, a wad of napkins, a half-eaten basket of French fries, an unopened container of jujubes.
no subject
Still, booze was booze.
"I didn't realize they had an outdoor theater here until I saw a teeny little ad in the Vegas paper," she told the man in the hat. "I guess now that fall's here, they probably do a lot more business. It's hard to concentrate on the movie when it's, like, a thousand degrees outside."
no subject
A familiar odor reached his olfactory senses. Whistler turned to his left. The man inside the car looked like he'd lived in it. Somebody was hungry.
"Trade you," the Agent waved a bottle towards the unshaven man.
Then back to the girl. "Why not combine resources, yeah?"
no subject
He pulled the key from his ignition to save the battery and got out of the car, brushing salt and crumbs off his jeans. Jeez, he looked like shit and he knew it. His black tee shirt had come straight of the laundry basket, wrinkles and all. His hair, usually gelled into a messy thatch, drooped on his forehead and kept getting stuck in his eyelashes.
He shut the door and started walking around the fender. Underneath his doc martens, the ground was hard and dry. Tiny clouds of dust puffed up and made sure everyone’s pants turned beige by the end of the night. As he reached the Impala, Brian held out the joint. He wasn’t worried about running out; he had a baggie full of weed and rolling papers in the dashboard of the Dodge.
“Brian,” he said, thinking it was generally good practice to trade names with someone you were about to smoke with. He looked at the short brunette, whose height and stature reminded him a little of Maddy, whom he hadn’t seen since the show at the Dive the other night. Brian had skipped this afternoon’s practice, and ignored the chorus of shouts on his answering machine telling him to grow a new pair of nuts and get in the car.
no subject
Whoa, that dude looked like he'd been yanked backwards through a knothole. Theresa frowned when she realized she recognized him. He'd been at the show the other night, playing with the Frayed Nerves. It was ironically apt, because he seemed really frayed.
The offer of pot sometimes meant that stronger drugs might be available. The vampire knew the difference between a recreational user and someone who was hooked through the bag. She looked at the burning spliff, watched the thin trail of smoke drifting upwards. If the man in the hat would pass that over here, she was willing to share.
no subject
The demon passed two bottles of beer before accepting the blunt. This was part of the 'new' him; less an Agent of Balance and more a person looking for balance in his life. And the first rule was finding ways to relax.
He took two puffs and held the smoke in his lungs, then passed the joint to Theresa.
no subject
’Indescribable… Indestructible! Nothing can stop it!’
“I haven’t seen this since I was a kid,” he said as the opening credits began. He was hyper-focused on the screen, forgetting for a moment to blink, or that his mouth was hanging open. Brian yanked himself out of the reverie. “My dad watched all this sci fi stuff. One time he took me meteor hunting.” He smiled and looked at Theresa and Whistler. “Turns out he planted the meteor beforehand. It was pretty cool.”
no subject
"Steve McQueen was my first crush," she said in a hoarse voice as she passed the doobie back to Whistler. "My dad used to make fun of me because I thought he was so handsome in The Getaway. The good ones always die too young."
The toke had made her mouth dry, and she took a quenching swig of beer. Then a drink of Mountain, to see how that tasted in comparison. Blech. Separately they tasted just a little more than bland. Together? Gross.
no subject
'Well. DUH.'
For a demon who lived thousands of years, sometimes he acted like he just fell off the back of the dung wagon.
Whistler puff-puffed and passed to Brian. He gave Theresa a sly look.
"That's amazing skin cream you use," he chortled to the girl, the smoke curling at the corners of his lips.
He wondered if Brian was more than he seemed as well.
no subject
‘Lauren Bacall’, he thought. ‘I’m calling it.’
no subject
"That girl could emote. And those eyelashes. Hoo boy."
no subject
"Who's Mary Pickford? " she asked with mild interest. Her knowledge of movies was limited to modern cinema, although she was a moderate fan of Sam Peckinpah's westerns. The final gun battle in The Wild Bunch could even make her undead heart threaten to beat.