hear him breathe during his slow approach. He carried a 64-ounce soda from the local gas station in one hand and a black leather DVD case in the other. He wore a black T-shirt with an Xbox logo across the chest. “Hey guys, I’m not interrupting anything? You guys weren’t working towards the money shot? If you were, hey, I might stick around.”
Jessica waved hello despite the comment. “Yeah, but you have to pay like everybody else.”
“Your man and I have a date,” Nelson said. “A movie date.”
Jessica huffed, knowing their repertoire of movies. “You’re not watching something stupid again are you?”
Billy explained the outlandish event today to Nelson, and after reiterating how crazy the idea was, they returned to their apartment to watch the movie.
Nelson popped in a burned DVD. The quality of Death Reject was washed out and re-recorded—the equivalent of a rented VHS copy copied from another rented VHS copy. What some would call a movie purchased on the “gray market”. The opening played a dramatic violin solo. The first shot panned to a young man in his mid-twenties sleeping soundly in bed. Then the camera jumped to a woman aiming a Smith & Wesson .30 automatic at the man’s chest.
“I’m sorry, son, but I must. You’re an abomination.”
She wept, and after a split-second to think, she pulled the trigger.
The mother called the police, crying, “My son is dead.”
Billy laughed. “Wow, she sounds totally devastated.”
Nelson sucked up more soda through the neon pink straw. “The dialogue in this movie is hilarious. The timing’s off every time. Stilted as hell.”
Billy stared at the television. The answer to the strange question tucked in the back of his head was in this movie. “Hey, could you fast forward to a part where he explodes?”
“You really think somebody watched this movie and replicated it?”
Jessica was reading a corporate law textbook on the orange bean bag chair in the corner and interjected, “You said yourself you thought it could’ve been a terrorist.”
“Okay, I said that. But I can’t remember seeing an explosive device on his body. But I do recall vividly what the guy looked like. I swear it looks like the guy from the movie.”
“And so what?” Jessica challenged. “It’s a movie. Movies aren’t real. People might act out what they watch, but that’s mostly kids. Are you going to the police with this startling evidence?”
She’d been concerned with the connection he created between the suicide bomber and Death Reject . Billy looked into her eyes and could decipher the doubt behind them. Jessica would call his reaction a dose of post-traumatic stress syndrome. The attack on his father and witnessing half a dozen people injured or killed was affecting his judgment, he admitted, but he wouldn’t put the question to rest until he viewed the movie. Maybe after that, he could relax and remove the ridiculous notion from his mind.
“You’re right,” Billy conceded. “Curiosity is killing me. That's the problem. Nelson doesn’t mind. He loves watching this shit.”
Nelson stared intently at the movie screen and mumbled, “One person’s shit is another’s gold.”
Billy watched the morgue scene when the death reject’s hand disconnects from the wrist and shoves itself down his mother’s throat. “Fast forward it to when he blows up,” he demanded. “I’ll watch the rest of it with you, I don’t care. I just have to see that part.”
Jessica joined them. She touched his arm. “You can’t be serious about this. Please say you're not.”
“I’m not crazy.” He knew he sounded crazy. He couldn’t remove the panic from his tone. “My dad went to the hospital, and I witnessed a guy blow up—yes, I’m in a weird state of mind, but just let me do this. I can let it go after this. I’m wrong, but I have to see it. Once it’s over, I’ll let it go.”
Nelson paused the movie. “Should I go on? I don’t want to
Jessica waved hello despite the comment. “Yeah, but you have to pay like everybody else.”
“Your man and I have a date,” Nelson said. “A movie date.”
Jessica huffed, knowing their repertoire of movies. “You’re not watching something stupid again are you?”
Billy explained the outlandish event today to Nelson, and after reiterating how crazy the idea was, they returned to their apartment to watch the movie.
Nelson popped in a burned DVD. The quality of Death Reject was washed out and re-recorded—the equivalent of a rented VHS copy copied from another rented VHS copy. What some would call a movie purchased on the “gray market”. The opening played a dramatic violin solo. The first shot panned to a young man in his mid-twenties sleeping soundly in bed. Then the camera jumped to a woman aiming a Smith & Wesson .30 automatic at the man’s chest.
“I’m sorry, son, but I must. You’re an abomination.”
She wept, and after a split-second to think, she pulled the trigger.
The mother called the police, crying, “My son is dead.”
Billy laughed. “Wow, she sounds totally devastated.”
Nelson sucked up more soda through the neon pink straw. “The dialogue in this movie is hilarious. The timing’s off every time. Stilted as hell.”
Billy stared at the television. The answer to the strange question tucked in the back of his head was in this movie. “Hey, could you fast forward to a part where he explodes?”
“You really think somebody watched this movie and replicated it?”
Jessica was reading a corporate law textbook on the orange bean bag chair in the corner and interjected, “You said yourself you thought it could’ve been a terrorist.”
“Okay, I said that. But I can’t remember seeing an explosive device on his body. But I do recall vividly what the guy looked like. I swear it looks like the guy from the movie.”
“And so what?” Jessica challenged. “It’s a movie. Movies aren’t real. People might act out what they watch, but that’s mostly kids. Are you going to the police with this startling evidence?”
She’d been concerned with the connection he created between the suicide bomber and Death Reject . Billy looked into her eyes and could decipher the doubt behind them. Jessica would call his reaction a dose of post-traumatic stress syndrome. The attack on his father and witnessing half a dozen people injured or killed was affecting his judgment, he admitted, but he wouldn’t put the question to rest until he viewed the movie. Maybe after that, he could relax and remove the ridiculous notion from his mind.
“You’re right,” Billy conceded. “Curiosity is killing me. That's the problem. Nelson doesn’t mind. He loves watching this shit.”
Nelson stared intently at the movie screen and mumbled, “One person’s shit is another’s gold.”
Billy watched the morgue scene when the death reject’s hand disconnects from the wrist and shoves itself down his mother’s throat. “Fast forward it to when he blows up,” he demanded. “I’ll watch the rest of it with you, I don’t care. I just have to see that part.”
Jessica joined them. She touched his arm. “You can’t be serious about this. Please say you're not.”
“I’m not crazy.” He knew he sounded crazy. He couldn’t remove the panic from his tone. “My dad went to the hospital, and I witnessed a guy blow up—yes, I’m in a weird state of mind, but just let me do this. I can let it go after this. I’m wrong, but I have to see it. Once it’s over, I’ll let it go.”
Nelson paused the movie. “Should I go on? I don’t want to
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