How Do You Measure Time In Hell?
(Originally posted 4/18/2018 No one read it because I didn’t know about SEO 😔)
This weekend my wife and I are trying to decide between two movies.
I want to see Black Panther before it’s out of theaters.
And she wants to see Shut The Hell Up, or Be Quiet You Bastards, or whatever that new horror movie is staring Jim from The Office.
So, one thing I know for sure.
I’ll be watching Black Panther on pay per view in three to five months.
And that’s what marriage is all about it, isn’t it?
One person gets their way, and the other person spends the rest of their life wishing they’d catch a stray bullet.
My wife loves horror movies. We watch them all the time. It’s so fun. Something we do together.
I HATE HORROR MOVIES!!!
Like HATE them, HATE them.
If I never saw another horror movie for the rest of my life I would be happy.
When I watch a horror movie, I get scared shitless. And I hate to get scared. I have horrible anxiety anyway.
Adding on to that just makes my blood pressure rise to skull exploding proportions.
To me, there’s no fun in getting scared. I don’t laugh afterward and go “Oh that was great! So fun!”
I have to get new underwear. And pants. And socks. And shoes.
And my makeup is ruined.
(Just kidding. My makeup is tear proof.)
Crying and Pooping
What I’m saying is there is a lot of crying and pissing and pooping of the pants when I’m scared.
But I suck it up and even act excited every time she picks a horror movie from Netflix.
And this weekend I’ll sit there in the movie theater trying to hide my tears and pissing into my Depends for two hours to make sure she has a good time watching the movie.
And the whole time I’ll be praying for a stray bullet.
Don’t forget about
A Serialized Thriller
A new chapter comes on Wednesday!
And if you haven’t started reading Crime Ring, here’s a link to the first chapter, so you can start from the beginning!
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About D. Ray Thomas