Get me Out of My Mind (Brendon Urie)

6. There's always time for second guesses

I think I have over a month until I have to face the Brendon issue again.

I'm wrong. Horriffically, terribly wrong.

It's three days after Claire got her hair done and found out what really happened on the date. It's just another day for me, shovelling popcorn at the snack bar in the movie theatre. I prefer ticket selling, but today have been asked to cover someone's shift working the snack bar. So, for the past hour and a half, I have been breathing in the deep, buttery aroma of movie popcorn, occassionally sneaking the odd stray piece into my mouth when no one is looking, and pouring sodas.

Not the most satisfying work, I must admit. But at least it is something I am able to do without messing up (uh... most of the time, except a few popcorn stains on the carpet and incidents with melted ice creams bear testiomny to the fact that I am still Erin.), and I am working with junk food, a product that I firmly believe in. When I am thinking about it, I am selling junk food so that I may earn the money to buy junk food. Oh, the irony. The literally delicious irony.

Right now, I am busy arranging the chocolates, quite frantically, because this morning I drank two cans of sprite and the drink that I had had had had an effect on me.

Wait a minute. Did I just write all those hads in succession and it was actually grammatical? What the hell? The english language is so weird. And now I am far too tempted to see how many hads I can elbow into a sentence.

Okay, here we go.

I had had a drink that had had some sugar in and had had an effect on me the way I had had the drink that I had had; Had I had a drink that had had less alcohol in it than the drink that I had had had had, I probably would have not been as tipsy as I had.

Okay, the word had sounds terrible now. Never do that, kiddos. Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

Spies burst into the movie theatre where I work and I fight them off with hand to hand combat before riding into the sunset on a motorbike.

Well, perhaps not that interesting. I am still, as I was before I went on the whole stupid had tangent, stocking the shelves with Candy Bars.

Often, there are times when the company has supplied us with one or two bars too many in our shipments. And trust me, those bars get a very, very good home. So, whenever I am on snack bar duty, I take it upon myself to count the boxes of deliveries to check if the numbers are off, and if I can satisfy my desire for dinner with a Twix. Alas, they have delivered the exact number, and I pout; I may have an unhealthy obsession with food that is equally unhealthy, but I'm not going to steal it.

Sadly.

I start arranging the Candy Bars on the shelves. It's quiet now, Thank God, because the huge rush of people who stumbled into the theatre for the an hour or so ago are all currently watching the latest Adam Sandler movie that Claire thought was crappy but I, being me, loved. Or, if the screams from somewhere in the building serve well to clue me in, the horror movie playing. I can't actually remember which one it is- which shows just how much of a professional I am, considering I am supposed to sell tickets to these movies- but it's supposed to be 'terrifying', which means that I'm definitely going to see it after my break. (Fun fact: Something like the 342nd Paranormal Activity is also playing, for the less interested horror fans. Not that I intend to watch it.)

Whatever the case, it brought a ton of muscular teenage boys and their pretty ombre-haired girlfriends to the theatre, the boys bragging that they'd protect their girls. Ha. I know better. Despite all their macho façades, I've worked here long enough to know the girls will come out confidently, the guys sobbing and shaking into their shoulders.