Movie Funtime || Smokey & Joel
Since it had come out November 5th, everyone had been talking about it. Not that what people talked about made much of a difference to him. Still, a war story with a tragic ending, it seemed like a good enough watch. It was called The Big Parade and it was enough to pull Smokey out of his house and to the theater. Abraham Lincoln got killed in a theater. Then again he was also wearing a top hat. No wonder. He settled into the dark room and crossed his hands over his chest and furrowed his brow. The movie was just beginning, there were the little flashed advertisement cards, one showing the concessions for anyone too stupid to see them on their way in, another for some local Italian restaurant, and finally one to tell the patrons to all shut their yaps while the show was on. It started off with some rich kid being a putz and not wanting to go to the war. Then his father told him to. Then his friends told him to. So he did. So far Smokey was nonplussed. He rubbed the brim of the hat in his lap with his thumb and forefinger. He hadn’t gone to war. He certainly didn’t have anyone pressuring him to. He coughed into his hand after not being able to hold it in anymore. The guy with an arm around a girl who looked like something you peeled of pavement after an unfortunate piano incident turned around. "You want somethin?" The stupid proud grin on his face didn’t make Smokey mad. It just indicated another guy who bought a suit and thought he was the king of the city. On screen there was an air strafe going on. Smokey hardened his stare and put a finger over his lips. He shook his head and turned his attention to the screen. Proud-Grin whispered something to his roadkill broad and laughed. Smokey hacked into his hand again a few minutes later. Most of the audience was astounded at the red cross sign that was actually red. What a time to be alive. "Do you want to take this outside?" Proud-Grin had a face that the pope would take a swing at. Smokey blinked and cleared his throat and shook his head. He’d leaned forward in his seat. He thought about pressing the barrel of his gun to Proud-Grin’s back. It would be stupid. Risky and a real rookie move. He didn’t have anything to prove. Proud-Grin did though. And what he had to prove was that he was a real piece of garbage. Trying to dry gulch a guy in a movie theater. He’d tried the old elbow to the face maneuver. Smokey grabbed the guy’s forearm and head butted him and his road kill girl gasped as well as several people in the audience but maybe it was because the hero’s buddy just died. He coughed into his hand and rubbed at the knot now forming on his forehead and he couldn’t tell if Proud-Grin was unconscious or just pretending but roadkill girl had excused herself. Smokey crossed his arms and leaned back and leaned back in his seat.
Couldn't a man go see a fucking movie these days without there being some kind of disturbance?
Joel wasn't exactly big on what some might call a social life, so even he'd been surprised when he'd decided to go see a movie. Marie had been suspiciously absent lately, leaving early and coming home late--or maybe it was just Joel that was feeling the suspicion. Maybe it was irrational. He'd argue that he had good reasons to worry when it came to Marie, a whole lifetime of them, but who knew? Maybe too many nights bartending and not enough nights free had started to mess with his mind.
Or maybe that was just the natural progression of living in Chicago and working in an illegal trade that was heavily involved with even more illegal mobsters.
Hence, the movie. He'd figured it might be nice to get his head out of the circling thoughts for a few hours, so he'd picked some flick at random, and had done his best to turn his thoughts off. And what should happen, other than Smokey fucking Davis getting into a fight.
Joel recognized him, of course. Didn't much deal with him face-to-face, but if Joel's boss Oxford kept him employed, then Smokey kept Oxford employed, in a sense. There wouldn't be much of a Stingray without a provider. So instead of turning around and giving both the fighting assholes a piece of his mind, Joel just waited until the movie was over.
The second it was, he turned to Smokey, who was a few seats back from him, one eyebrow lifting a fraction in surprise that the man was even conscious. That had been one hell of a headbutt.
"Mr. Davis." There, see, Joel could do respect. Oxford, wherever he was, was probably scowling and he wouldn't even know why. "I don't know whether to congratulate you on your apparently rock-hard skull, or drag you to the nearest doctor. You feeling alright?"
