"God, I'm so hungry I could eat a horse right now," Mary told Marshal as they pushed through the doors of the Sunshine Building at the end of a long day. "How do a couple of burritos and a big margarita sound to you."

"Not tonight," Marshal replied.

"Aw, come on. We could go to that place around the corner where they serve those jumbo drinks in the glasses that could double as fishbowls. One of those, some extra hot salsa, and a bowl of queso will solve all our problems."

At least Marshal had the good grace to look sheepish as he told her that he had other plans, not that it did much to temper Mary's rising irritation. He was, however, saved from the immediate consequences by Abby's arrival. She strode up to the pair with her usual excess of bounce and smiled widely at them.

"Hey Mary," she said with a perky wave before she turned towards Marshal. "You got out just in time," she told him. "The movie starts at seven-thirty. We'll have just enough time to grab a quick bite on the way to the theater."

"Oh, how nice," Mary said in a seemingly pleasant tone. "What are you seeing?"

Marshal gave her a worried sideways glance, easily able to read the edge in her voice. Abby, however, was oblivious to any dangerous undertones and answered cheerfully, "Water for Elephants, I've been wanting to see it since it came out."

"A chick flick, Marshal? Really? You're giving up the best burritos in town and twenty-four ounces of sweet, icy alcohol for a chick flick?" Then she leaned towards him. "I guess she's really got you by the short and curlys now," she muttered under her breath.

"Not at all," he replied indignantly. "I want to see it and I'll have you know I've read the book too."

"Of course you have," Mary said with an expression of disgust. "Dweeb."

Abby, who had been watching the two of them, finally chimed in, "I know he'd rather see Source Code or something like that, but we did a Star Wars marathon last weekend and he was nice enough to let me pick tonight and even promised me all the popcorn I can eat." Then she gave Marshal's arm a possessive squeeze.

Mary was about to indulge herself in another acerbic comment involving dogs, very short leashes, and certain portions of the male anatomy, but the mention of popcorn tweaked something deep in her brain and slowly a rather comforting image began to take shape. The corners of her mouth quirked upwards as she gave free rein to her imagination, the scenario playing out in her head like her own private and particularly satisfying movie reel ...

Marshal and Abby are waiting in line at the theatre concession stand, Abby giggling as she inspects the candy selection. As the line moves forward, they end up standing right next to the popcorn machine. While Marshal steps up to place their order, Abby leans in towards the machine, watching the fluffy white kernels spill out of the popper. Something about her evil presence causes the machine to malfunction, popcorn surging from the heated oil faster and faster until the entire contraption suddenly explodes. Abby falls to the ground in a blistering hail of unpopped kernels, lethal as buckshot. All that Marshal and the other patrons can do is gather around to stare in horror as she lays motionless in a spreading pool of movie theatre butter, her face speckled with bits of salty, white shrapnel that are the remains of the impromptu bomb's contents ...

Mary was brought back to the present by the feel of Abby's hand on her arm. "You know you're welcome to come with us," the other woman told her.

Mary could see Marshal shaking his head back and forth behind Abby, trying to warn her off, so she pretended to actually consider the invitation. "Hmm, a movie about a circus, or," she paused for effect, "a giant margarita with my name on it." Then she snorted and rolled her eyes. "I think I'll pass, but you kids have fun. Oh, and Abby, make sure you take a good, long look at the popcorn. You can't be too careful about making sure it's fresh."

Then she turned and headed for her car, leaving Abby looking at Marshal in confusion as she tried to figure out the significance of Mary's last, cryptic comment. For once as clueless as his girlfriend, Marshal just gave a worried shrug as he watched Mary walk away, an evil chuckle echoing behind her.