Movie Challenge

[lamardeuse.livejournal.com]

If you missed the earlier bits, Head Trip I can be found here. From there you can go through the sections in order.





Head Trip III: Movies
by lamardeuse




A movie theatre. They were in a fucking movie theatre.

The place was one of those old, extravagant palaces that had names like--well, the Palace or the Majestic or the Bijou. Beside him, Fraser Sr. sat, loudly crunching popcorn.

"If you're dead, how come you're still eating?"

"Well, I always loved buttered popcorn, but I only got it about once every five years. I suppose it was decided I was entitled to some small rewards for a life well-lived." He stuffed another handful in his mouth, then made a sour face.

"What's the matter?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing, son. The Man Upstairs is a bit liberal with the salt sometimes, that's all."

Ray frowned. "So what's up? I thought we were going--"

"To Benton?" The old man cleared his throat. "Patience, lad."

"What is this, The Karate Kid? What do I need patience for?"

"Shh--the movie's starting."

The projector roared to life, and in front of them, black and white images danced and swirled. The MGM lion, in all his glory, back when Mayer was still king of the jungle.

Test Pilot, with Clark Gable, Spencer Tracy and Myrna Loy. His mom had been crazy about Gable, he remembered. Another king, bigger than life.

"I used to love movies in Yellowknife," Fraser Sr. murmured wistfully. "Lana Turner was singlehandedly responsible for jump-starting me into puberty."

"Yeah, singlehanded probably had a lot to do with it," snorted Ray.

The old man shot him a look. "And you went to the movies to see..."

"Steve McQueen," Ray answered automatically, then bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood.

"Hm."

"Look, I did not jerk off thinking of Bullitt, all right?" Ray snarled. "I wanted to be him."

"Why?"

"Because--because he was cool. He was everything--"

Everything I wasn't.

"Yes," the old man said, as if Ray had finished his sentence. "I thought as much. You and my son also have that in common."

"What do you--"

"Shh. Watch."

Ray threw up his hands in frustration, then turned back to the screen. As he watched, Clark Gable strode across it, three stories high, wearing his killer smile and generating enough charm to power Toledo. He climbed into his plane, and Spence snugged down the canopy, then blew him a smart-assed kiss. Stuck a half-chewed wad of gum on the fuselage, like he'd done it a hundred times before.

Saying I love you with superstition and Wrigley's.

And even though he'd never seen the movie before, Ray knew right then how it was going to end.

He didn't want to watch any more, but he couldn't make himself get up.


*~*~*~*~*


"So what the hell was the point of that?" Ray demanded, when he could trust his voice. It was a dated, hokey melodrama, but the image of Gable standing there and carrying on a calm conversation with tears trickling down his face, fucking naked and wide open because his best friend was dead...

"You didn't like it?"

"It sucked big rocks," Ray snapped. "Why'd one of them have to die?"

"Because the idea of Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy opening up a little flight school together in the heart of the Midwest was beyond the tolerance of the Production Code of the 1930s, I imagine," said Fraser Sr. tartly.

Ray blew out a breath. "Again I say, what was the point?"

"That's you and Benton up there, son."

"Great. So I'm destined to die in a plane crash with him crying over me?"

"I'm not implying that's your exact history--"

"--'Cause your kid's made me do stunts almost as dumb. I think maybe he got that from you--"

"--but you have to admit there are certain similarities--"

"--hangin' onto planes, jumpin' out of 'em, sledding down mountains, I'm surprised I'm not pushing up daisies by now--"

"I'm trying to get to the point!"

"Then get to it already!"

"He doesn't believe that he deserves you either!"

Ray stared at the old man, who flung an exasperated arm at the dark screen. "Benton grew up isolated, with few friends of his own age. His ideal of love was one he couldn't imagine for himself. One of a deep and abiding concord so intense that one would die for the other without hesitation."

Ray opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it shut.

"Exactly," Fraser Sr. said with satisfaction. "When you drive a motorcycle through a glass window, it's fairly obvious, isn't it?"

Ray opened his mouth again.

"And don't pretend you would have done that for anyone."

Ray closed it again. Shook his head.

"What's the matter, Yank?"

"Oh, nothing. I've got a dead guy showing me old movies and telling me to go bag his son. What could be the matter?"

The old man's face reddened slightly. "I only want Benton's happiness. As does his mother."

Ray's mouth compressed into a thin line. This was heading straight into downtown Weirdsville. "He's happy. He's home. I saw him--saw the way he looked up there. He's good."

"You're sure of that, are you?"

No. "Yeah."

"That's the problem with you Yanks," the old man huffed. "Always so bloody cocky." And then he snapped his fingers, and Ray's world faded to black.


End





(893 words)


Next: Head Trip IV: Voyeurism