Science Fiction/Double Feature

[whistlersmum]

'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.)

Comments

[tiny_dancer81]

For a hot second, Theresa's brain had been on the same track as Whistler's, and given his apparent age he would have fit in with her usual client base. But then Brian asked his real question, and her expression narrowed thoughtfully. Even her non-diabolical brain could put the pieces together.

Brian had heard of Rhiannon, as if the Slayer was a celebrity of sorts. Whistler had run her down with his car. She still wanted to know how the fuck that had happened. If two tons of Detroit steel hadn't put the brunette out of commission, what hope did a garden variety vampire have?

The inter-connecting points were beginning to make her head spin.

"I don't collect stamps," she announced. "But I do have a fixation on crossword puzzles. Is that weird?"