My mom and I were chatting about horrible movies–specifically the embarrassment of having someone catch you emerging from the theatre of a horrible movie–when she mentioned her blood clot. Apparently, when we were at the theatre watching Twilight she had this weird pain in her leg. Being the medical professional that she is, a blood clot came to mind.
Of course, it wasn’t the idea of having a blood clot or throwing said blood clot that terrified her. It was the thought of dying in the theatre of Twilight. People would know. Not only the people in the theatre, but countless others would see as they carried her lifeless body from the theatre. Good heavens! She might even make the news! And she would be dead! She couldn’t explain that yes, she was old enough to know better–but she was being a good mother. Her daughter (who, she might add, is also old enough to know better) insisted they give the movie a go!!!
The mere thought was the more than she could bare.
She made me promise, right then and there, if she ever dies, in public, while watching a questionable movie, that I refrain from sobbing, screaming, or otherwise-drawing-attention to myself until I have at least dragged her corpse into in the theatre of a decent movie.
I promised. As long as she promised not to do such a wretched thing. I mean really–a bad movie is traumatizing enough!
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