Read Online Midnight Movie: A Novel by Tobe Hooper Alan Goldsher - Free Book Online

underground boxing match. There was a sense of anything-can-happen, and if something happens that isn’t good, nobody’s going to stop it, because nobody’s in charge. You can smell the boxers’ athletic sweat, and the crowd’s booze sweat, and you want to get the fuck out of there, but you’re afraid that if you make any quick moves, somebody’ll bash a folding chair over your head before you even get to the door, and then somebody’ll steal your wallet while you’re lying unconscious in the middle of the aisle.
    If it wasn’t my movie, I’d have bailed out of that club in a heartbeat.
    When the lights went up, things reverted to some sense of normality. The crowd went nuts … but in a good way. Nobody yelled. Nobody screamed. Nobody threw a beer mug. Nobody punched me in the stomach. It was all applause. Warm, appreciative applause.
    I looked over to Gary’s table. He gave me a big smile and a double thumbs-up, then mouthed, “We rock!” I polished off my beer, then, hoping I could get drunker before the Q & A, asked the bartender for a shot of whatever brown liquid was closest. He picked a couple pieces of mirror out of his hand as if it was nothing and said, “You got it, Mr. Hooper. That was a brilliant piece of work. I’m going to order the DVD of
Chainsaw
the second I get home.”
    After he gave me my drink, I asked him, “Are you okay?”
    He said, “What do you mean?”
    I pointed at the floor behind the bar and said, “Brother, you’re standing in a damn mountain of glass.”
    He looked around, then shrugged and said, “Just another day at the Cove, man. Just another day at the Cove.”
    I almost said,
Another day at the Cove? Broken shit all over the floor is another day at the Cove
? But I held my tongue. It didn’t seem like the time for a philosophical discussion about the true meaning of fucked-up-ed-ness. All I did was throw down the shot, then, as I headed toward the other side of the club, the girl who’d kissed me gave me a chaste peck on the cheek and said, “I don’t like scary movies, but that was wonderful.” I felt nothing. It was like being kissed by my cousin.
    I gave her elbow a squeeze and said, “Thank you, darlin’. Sorry about the … confusion during the flick.”
    She gave me a smile that you could actually describe as virginal and said, “What confusion?”
    I pointed at her beer and asked, “How many drinks have you had?”
    She shrugged and said, “Three, I think. But that’s nothing for me.” She puffed up her big ol’ chest and said, all blustery, “Despite my tininess, I’m far from a lightweight.”
    I couldn’t help but laugh. “I believe you. Now I got to go to work.”
    Many of the filmgoers touched me as I wound my way through the club. Nothing lascivious, mind you. Just pats on the back, and handshakes, and in a couple of instances, I got my hair tousled. I yelled across the club, “Gary, you’d best get your ass up here! I’m not doing this alone.”
    Everybody laughed; then, when it quieted down, he yelled back, “Yeah, you are! It’s your night, Tobe!”

twitter.com
     
    ScaryBarry took a scary shit in the scary cove bathroom. i think i pooped out some of my guts.
April 1 12:48 AM via web
    FarceCycle @ScaryBarry You’re all class. Wish I could be there with you.
April 1 12:55 AM via web
    ScaryBarry @FarceCycle too late. gonna try and score some more blow before I split. j/k.
April 1 12:59 AM via web

ERICK LAUGHLIN:
    I’d survived
way
worse beatings. The unofficial count: once in junior high, five times in high school, once in college, and four times after Massacre This shows. None of them were totally my fault—I’ll take some responsibility, because sometimes there’s a bit of a disconnect between my brain and my mouth—but I’ve never been randomly attacked. And it fucked me up physically
and
mentally … but I wasn’t fucked up badly enough that I didn’t stagger into the club for Tobe’s Q & A.
    The guy who’d hit