Flee

I had been smart enough to select a bar stool to the left of him, giving myself a good view of the lobby area of the restaurant. The positioning made it much easier to pretend I was paying attention rather than plotting my escape plan.

Two weeks earlier, I had found myself in an e-mail exchange with a WPI grad student who seemed pleasant enough – the photographic evidence pointed more towards neo-hippie than to pocket protectors. There had even been brief phone conversations, which had gone surprisingly smoothly, and then, ultimately…this.

I had almost ignored him completely upon his arrival at the agreed-upon destination, an almost-rundown lake side family restaurant with a small bar – until he recognized me from my photos. In this, my date had an unfair advantage, as the pictures I had sent to him were actually recent, unlike his own apparently. He carried with him a minimum of forty extra pounds, all of which being fat and pasty.

Okay, don’t panic, I thought. He just gained some weight.

I was surprised at how calmly I had handled the surprise introduction, though I was not at all embarrassed by my early denial of his identity. As we dove into the first (only) round of drinks, WPI openly told me about his interests, which included medieval role-playing games.

“So you like Dungeons and Dragons,” I stated, almost choking on my drink. This was going to get ugly…fast.

“Well, yeah, I guess,” he mumbled, caught slightly off-guard by the assumption. It was obvious he had hoped to avoid that stereotype.

“That’s really…fascinating,” I said, bored, but somehow managing to feign interest.

“Yeah, I don’t really play that as much anymore,” he said. “It’s not so easy to get into at my mom’s house.”

“You live with your mom?” I asked, smiling and trying to hold back laughter. Granted, I had done my stint at the house of a parental unit, but let’s be real…I was a girl.

It was sometime around that point that I no longer heard the words that were coming out of his mouth. I had tuned out completely, wrapped up in thought on how best to get out of the situation. I wondered for a moment if I even cared about sparing this poor lad’s feelings. And then, suddenly, like a beacon in the night – I saw it.

The ladies’ room.

There it was – about six feet from the main entrance to the restaurant. It would be so easy to just…slip right out. As I examined the restroom’s proximity to freedom, I suddenly remembered one small detail that would, perhaps, foil my master plan. I had brought my coat, given the crisp April night air.

Don’t panic, I thought. You can figure this out.

I looked at WPI, who was still talking and apparently not noticing my straying gaze whatsoever, and smiled, before suddenly shivering.

“Do you think it’s cold in here?” I asked, rubbing my arms.

“No, at least, I don’t think so.”

“I am absolutely freezing,” I said, pulling my coat on. “Oh, that is SO much better.”

You are a god damned genius, I said to myself with a self-assured grin. All I had to do now was to wait for the right moment, the right break in the conversation. After about ten more minutes, I could no longer pretend to be in any way interested in anything this person had to say, and I was nearing the point of utter, brutal honesty.

“Would you excuse me?” I asked, politely and coyly. “I need to use the little girls’ room.”

“Oh, sure, no problem,” he said, standing as I rose from my seat. It was a shame that he was a gentleman.

Sunday Morning Sketch Cinema – January 11, 2009: Slither (2006)

For those of you hoping for an updated version of Howard Zieff’s 1973 comedy, let me deflate your hopes before we go any further and clarify that there will be no mention of James Caan as we discuss this week’s voyage into B-Moviesville.

 

Instead, I bring you James Gunn’s Slither.

 

After happening upon this little gem of over-the-top, gory ‘horror’ hilarity, I settled in for ninety-five minutes of graphic gore, dozens of small-town stereotypes, and a collection of quips and one-liners that almost rivaled an Austin Powers movie. Almost.

 

The story focuses on the small town of Wheelsy, where a meteor has managed to crash to earth in a loud, uproarious explosion, conveniently unnoticed by two Podunk local cops who are parked a mere thirty feet away. When the town’s resident rich guy (Grant Grant, immaculately portrayed by Michael Rooker) sneaks away for a quick romp with the town slut (after being denied yet again by his much younger, high school biology teacher wife), he discovers something slithering around in the woods behind the local bar.

 

Upon further investigation, the slithering substance in question suddenly bores a hole through Grant’s chest, carves its way to his brain stem, and proceeds to take over his body, bringing with it such side effects as wanting to make sweet, tender love to his wife and an insatiable appetite for raw meat.

 

But Starla, Grant’s wife, knows something is amiss, and shares her concerns with the ever-ready Town hero Bill Parday (portrayed by Nathan Fillion), whom one is led to assume has a history with the lovely Mrs. Grant as the film provides weak allusions to some hidden, sinister affair sub-plot, though it is never fully explored.

 

As Grant Grant runs amok all over town, kidnapping local dogs and farm     animals to sustain his never-ending hunger for meat, he returns once again to his favorite little piece of trailer-park booty for a quick chest-boring, not only succeeding in turning her into one of these extra terrestrial creatures, but also managing to impregnate her and turning her into a ravenous, flesh-hungry, giant beach-ball-of-flesh. One should not miss the birthing scene, under any circumstances.

 

While the movie reeks of discarded film bits from the screening room floor of Night of the Creeps, Slither takes the B genre to the next level by dotting the script with classic one-liners that seem to indicate the cheese-awareness of all involved in creating this little chunk of goodness. It does not take itself seriously, and has absolutely no time for viewers who expect to do so, either.

 

And so for now, I leave you with this week’s Sunday Morning Sketch Cinema movie quote of the week:

 

Jack MacReady: [panicked] We need to find this Grant, and I mean yesterday. Town council’s lit a Roman Candle, stuck it up my ass.
Bill Pardy: Jack, your leisure activities ain’t my business.