Cameron And Blaine See The Avengers

This entry was posted on Jun 15 2012

It was a cool summer night in Greenwich, Connecticut. The sky was overcast and the humidity was low. A light drizzle had fallen about a half an hour ago, but that didn’t bother Cameron nor Blaine, for they thought ahead for such weather and brought along their brand new Abercrombie & Fitch rain ponchos. Each poncho cost $199.99 and the lives of two Malaysian sweatshop children. Cameron gazed upon the evening sky and concluded, in his own words, “that the heavens would cry no more tonight,” before promptly throwing his poncho into the nearest trash receptacle. Blaine quickly stripped his rain gear off as well. He tossed it into the same refuse can, lest some other moviegoer think he may wear it twice. “But Cameron, I thought you were an Atheist? What’s all this “heavens” talk?” inquired Blaine. Cameron didn’t answer immediately. He wanted Blaine to question his own query before he provided the answer. In the meantime, Cameron took out a clove cigarette from his Prada shoulder bag, lit it, took a drag, and exhaled. “Blaine,” Cameron began. “Organized religion is for the poor and unfashionable.” As Blaine took a mental note of the quote, Cameron took another drag and blew the smoke into the face of the baby sleeping in the stroller next to him.

Fuck Greenwich.

Percival and Anastasia, the parents of the infant in the stroller, smile at Cameron. “We blow as much cigar and cigarette smoke into young Cooper’s face as we can,” says Percival. “When he’s ready to smoke on his own, around eight or nine years old, we want him to be able to tell the difference between brands,” says Anastasia. While Percival and Anastasia rub their noses together in success of their terrific parenting, Cameron spits into the child’s mouth while Blaine takes a picture of it. Blaine tags the shot on Facebook and Cameron sets it as his profile picture. “Cameron,” Blaine says with his left hand on his hip and head cocked to the side. “Can you believe how long this line is?” Cameron scoffs. “Why yes Blaine, I absolutely can believe how long this line is. I mean, the film has only been in theatres for three months. The Avengers is a masterpiece. The postmodern neo-conservatism is more than evident, and the underlying surrealist dialogue really makes a point  of showing how lost this country is.” Cameron squints his eyes and glares at Blaine. “I’m starting to question your commitment to the cause, Blaine. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you to my record eighty-third viewing,” says Cameron. Blaine recoils in embarrassment. He tries desperately to convince Cameron of what a huge Joss Whedon fan he is. “Cameron, don’t say that! I’ve seen all seven episodes of Angel he directed! Without Whedon’s crucial directing prowess David Boreanaz would have never gotten his role on Bones!” Cameron notices that the ticket teller is letting people in for their showing. “Finally,” Cameron bursts. “Come on slug, let’s go watch a cinematic feast for the eyes. I swear, sometimes you’re such a Selvig.” Cameron leads the way into the theater while tears pour from Blaine’s eyes and run down his Aeropostale blazer.

He's not framing up a shot, he's taking a mental picture of all the suckers.

Cameron grimaces as he looks around the theater. On one side of him are a group of teenage girls swooning over the Chris Evans posters clutched in their hands. On the other side a gaggle of Fanboys were reading comic books, preparing themselves to record all inaccuracies they find in the film. He was surrounded. “Christ, they’ll let anyone see a movie these days,” says Cameron. With his anger already palpable, a large oaf of a human being begins to make his way down the aisle in front of him. And of course this seven foot tall behemoth would sit directly in front of Cameron. The grinding of Cameron’s teeth could be heard by the deaf. “What’s wrong?” asks Blaine. “Are you serious?” replies Cameron. “Look at the disgusting leviathan that just had to sit his fat ass down right in front of me. Doesn’t he know who I am?” By sheer coincidence the ogre-man turns around to face Cameron and Blaine. Upon seeing this man’s face, Blaine actually throws up a little in his mouth. It’s eyes aren’t level, with the left one being a good two inches higher than the right. It has two chins. It’s hair is greasy and disheveled. And it has drawn (poorly) on it’s skin with green sharpie, clearly an homage to the Incredible Hulk. “Are a you guys a ready to watch da movie?” it says. Cameron smiles patiently, as not to make it angry.

“Why don’t you turn back around, good chum? The film is about to begin.” The creature arcs his arm all the way up to scratch his head, much like an orangutan would. “Uh, my name is Lughead. You a guys gots name also?” Cameron cringes. Blaine steps in. “Listen, you’re going to need to-” But Lughead cuts him off. “Ima gonna call you twos guys Poop and Diarrhea! On account of those are a da names of a dis many (holds up two fingers) Transformers,” says Lughead. At hearing this error, one of the Fanboys sitting close to Cameron, Blaine, and Lughead suddenly freaks out. Fanboy’s eyes have never been wider with shock. “Excuse me! Poop and Diarrhea are the names of neither an Autobot, nor a Decepticon! I believe you have been misinformed!” Lughead reaches into his pocket and pulls out two old Twinkies that were NOT in their original wrappers and stuffs them into the face of the Fanboy. Fanboy begins choking and falls to the ground. “Nerd man just hungry. Dats why he interrupt Lughead,” says Lughead. “Before I a got here, I beat off my beat stick and put the cream on da wall.”

The group of girls to the right of Cameron and Blaine are getting louder and louder. “Alright Jennifer, now tell me the truth… Would you, or wouldn’t, totally go all the way with Chris Evans?” Jennifer blushes as the group of girls stare at her, demanding an answer. “Not only would I let that amazing hunk of man have his way with me… But I would swallow all of his Captain juice!” cries Jennifer. The girls scream and giggle. “Come on Michelle, you know you would, too!” yells Jennifer. “And I do mean come!” Michelle smirks. “With abs like that, I’d let him shit on my chest!” screams Michelle. All the girls high-five and laugh, this hypothetical scenario clearly being a teenage girl’s dream come true. Michelle points a thumb toward Cameron and Blaine. “I bet even these two Hollywood choads would bang Chris Evans!” Cameron and Blaine take considerable offense to this inclination. “Excuse me, but for your information we both have girlfriends who we sleep with on a regular basis,” explains Blaine, a comeback that causes the group of girls to burst out in laughter.

Chris Evans hasn't been outside in two years. All his scenes were shot inside his house.

“I had a girlfriend also dis one time,” starts Lughead. “But then I a hugged her too hard dis one time and she went to sleep and not didn’t wake a back up.” Lughead suddenly turns toward Cameron and shouts directly into his face. “Do you know da Incredible Hulk and da Iron Men are in da same movie we gonna watch?!” Cameron recoils and covers his ears, but Lughead doesn’t stop. “I told da ticket man to take all my monies because da movie is so gooder than da other movies I ever seened.” Jennifer suddenly screams. “OMG, how amazing does Jennifer Evans sound?!” The Fanboy has finished scraping the Twinkie remains from his Rivers Cuomo glasses and reasserts himself into the discussion. “It was never released to the public, but it is a FACT that Captain America’s favorite Pokemon is Bulbasaur!” shouts Fanboy. Jennifer starts fanning herself because she is getting so hot. “I’d let him give me a Bulbasaur anytime, if ya know what I mean,” she says with a smirk. Michelle slaps her friend playfully on the shoulder. “Jennifer! You’re so bad! Your parents would kill you!”

The lights begin to dim and it appears the previews are about to begin. Cameron doesn’t believe in any deity, but he’s thankful to all of them at this moment. The theater fills with groans as the trailer for Madea’s Witness Protection comes on. But Fanboy is still talking. “Robert Downey Jr.’s favorite candy is the Clark Bar, but he’d never admit it,” Fanboy confides. Suddenly Lughead is standing over Fanboy, snarling and foaming at the mouth. His movie junk food, mentos and Diet Pepsi, being a poor choice. “No talky during da best peeviews!” he barks. And with that, Lughead lifts Fanboy above his head and tears him in half like a phonebook. Viscera pour over the collective group. Bloodstained blazers and miniskirts. There’s kidneys in the popcorn, and a stomach on a young girl’s lap. Most of the audience files out of the theater in terror. Others are vomiting uncontrollably. Lughead is laughing hysterically, but in an extremely deranged sort of way. “Call me God!” he commands. Lughead, who is now surfing on a wave of carnage, remembers how good it felt to kill his girlfriend all those years ago. Therapy hadn’t erased everything. He’s now marching up and down the aisles grabbing at moviegoers, pulling arms from sockets, gouging out eyeballs and eating them.

<3 That Bulbasaur never abandoned him <3

Cameron is still sitting in his seat in disbelief. He dreamed of this night many times while trying to go to sleep. The eighty-third viewing. His new record. You could hardly call the night a success considering the events that have transpired. He still couldn’t believe Percival and Anastasia didn’t get a sitter for their mistake of a child. Oh, and of course the retarded maniac oaf rampaging through the AMC. Lughead was currently pulling the bowels out of some poor bastard’s asshole. “I wanna host the Fear Factory, Joe Rogan! Gimme doz intestines!” he screamed at his victim, who was unfortunately still very conscious. Cameron looked down and shook his head. Nothing like his dreams. Blaine was having trouble taking his eyes away from the horror when Cameron beckoned him to follow. They walked past Lughead with a sigh. Nothing like their dreams.

Cameron and Blaine were standing on the sidewalk outside the movie theater smoking cloves when the audience for Piranha 3DD let out. Two particular breathtaking young men, let’s call them Joe and Frank, walk out of the building, still wearing their 3D glasses and high-fiving each other like madmen (but not the Jon Hamm kind). “When that piranha bites that kid’s entire fucking head off, I ejaculated all over the guy sitting in front of me!” says Frank. “Why did you have your dick out in the first place?” asks Joe. “Everyone had their dick out, man! We were at a 3D movie… You mean you didn’t have your dick out?” questions Frank, with an angry stare. “No, I mean, yeah my dick was out. I swear!” says Joe, embarrassed. Cameron and Blaine chuckle at the pair. “A movie about piranha? How asinine,” says Cameron. “I mean, it didn’t even come close to a $200 million budget, so it was surely awful,” adds Blaine. Joe and Frank stop in their tracks. They have incredible hearing (also, they have sonar). “What did you say, cunt?” asks Frank. The cigarettes fall out of their mouths simultaneously in shock. Joe walks over and shoves his hand in Cameron’s pocket, pulling out his wallet. He finds his ticket stub, and also steals twenty dollars. “The Avengers? You fucking tools saw The Avengers? Must be big, big Hollywood fans, huh? See whatever they tell you to see, huh?” mocks Joe. Frank walks over and unzips Blaine’s fly and shoves his hand down his pants, pulling out his cock, and rips it off! Blaine falls to his knees while blood pours out from the hole where his cock used to be. “My cock! You ripped off my cock!” howls Blaine. “Check it out,” Joe says nudging Frank. “This kid comes blood.” Frank chuckles. “What a faggot!” he replies. Then Frank stuffs the severed cock into his back pocket for later.

There was nothing not amazing about this movie.

Cameron doesn’t believe what he’s seeing. Sort of like his dreams, but not exactly. Joe and Frank walk up to Cameron and stand very close to him. So close that their hot breath is felt all over his face. It was weird. Frank tilts his head to the side. “Look at me, boy,” he says to Cameron, who is staring hard at the ground. “Boy! Look at me!” he screams. Cameron raises his head and meets Frank’s eyes. “Do you believe in God?” grunts Frank. Cameron gulps and manages to squeak out a “no”. Joe and Frank immediately start beating him to death. He falls to the ground quickly and the handsome pair kick and beat the posh boy until the pool of blood forming under the body is an outrageous ten feet in diameter. Joe’s new shoes are ruined. Frank looks down at Cameron, who is just barely alive. “Yeah, me neither. To quote Nietzsche, ‘God is bread’,” misquotes Frank. Joe shrugs. “I do believe in God, I just don’t practice organized religion hardcore, ya know? I guess none of what just happened really had anything to do with theology,” explains Joe. With that, Joe and Frank each raise their right foot and curb stomp Cameron at the same time. His head literally explodes to mush.

“Another successful movie night,” declares Frank. That’s when they notice the two policemen leaning up against their car only three feet away from the crime scene. There’s a long silence. The two cops are tapping their clubs into their palms. One of the cops leans forward, and takes his hat off. In his hair… is semen. “Are you the guy who jizzed on my head?” asks the officer. Frank nods. The cops start laughing hysterically. “How fucking funny was that movie?” asks the other cop. The four high-five like it’s nobody’s business. “When you came in my hair, I came in the hair of the guy in front of me!” shouts the cop. “It was a chain reaction, man! Everyone was doing it! Even the women!” Four the next nine hours the four men reminisced about the film they had just watched. Today I didn’t even have to use my A.K., I got to say it was a good day.

There wouldn't have even been a Thor or (another) Hulk movie if it wasn't for the fact they desperately wanted to profit from making this piece of shit.

Post a Comment