Three ~ All Around the Mulberry Bush

The stranger gazed up at the marquee that read:

The Garden Cinema

Monster Monday Matinee - **Two For One**

Stygian Motion Pictures Presents:

"Dr. Stanley Gipshaw's Gruesome Reality IV - Visions of Death"

SEE! What happens - When a motorcycle rider without a helmet meets the asphalt at seventy miles an hour...YOU will be taken into the morgue, for an uncut viewing of the live autopsy!

FEEL! The heat - As victims trapped in a hotel fire, are left hopeless, and plummet forty stories to their death...YOU will have an uncut first-hand viewing as they hit the pavement!

HEAR! The screams - As a shark victim is bitten in half only feet from shore...YOU will shudder with the stunning clarity of this amateur video shown in it's uncut, bite-for-bite entirety!

PLUS! Dr. Stanley Gipshaw traveled the globe to bring YOU:

Trainwrecks, A shopping mall shooting massacre, Executions, And even his own suicide after completing this film!

Pedro stood at the Garden Cinema's ticket counter, resting his elbows upon it, and his chin resting in his hands, gazing blearily at the theatre entrance. 'Nice fucking day for a double!' He thought savagely. Why had he answered the phone, anyway? He knew damn well is was going to be that puto boss of his, Ray. It always was...

"Pedro, I need you today man! Sandra didn't show again..." Ray had said frantically over the phone.

"Damn Ray! I can't today man... I have plans with my girl, amigo. I can't this time..." He had grumbled in reply.

"I'll make it up to ya, Pedro. Please, I need ya bro!" He had plead dramatically.

Yeah... Sure Sandra wouldn't show. "Ok, Ray, but my girl, Amanda, aint gonna be happy man. You need to get us a crew that shows up bro..." 'Let his wife catch them this time...' He had mused wistfully, as he hang up the receiver.

Who was he kidding? Ray wasn't gonna get rid of that slut. She was a cheap ass toy, while his ugly ass rich wife was outta town. Why didn't he just quit this job? Just tell that fat ass Ray to go fuck himself...

'Because...' Said that little voice in his head. 'Your girl is pregnant man. You need to be strong for her munchacho! Marry her, and get your own place holmes...'

"One please." Said the movie goer, in a high pitched, eerie voice.

"Four-fifty..." Said Pedro mechanically, reaching for the twenty dollar bill the customer held.

"Keep the change!" Said the man, tracing a finger softly across the back of Pedro's hand.

Suddenly, Pedro had an image of his fiance, Amanda, waiting for the bus that would take her to the well baby clinic. He had promised to take her, but was stuck at this pinche movie theatre instead.

"You should have been with her today, Pedro..." Said the man, as a cruel sneer crept across his lips. "Amanda needed you today, and you promised her. The Aztecas wanted revenge didn't they? You shot up their leader's eight year old brother, remember? You're too late, amigo..."

Another image played into Pedro's head, where three late teens, wearing Azteca colors, were dragging Amanda into a white windowless van, kicking and screaming, as the van drove away.

Shaking his head to clear it, he realized that the man had gone into the theatre, and was now approaching the snack counter. Where the man had touched his hand felt cold and filthy. He was not entirely sure how he knew his name, because he had forgotten his name tag at home. He definitely did not how this man had known Amanda's name. However, he knew that something bad had happened to her, and he had to find her...

Pocketing the twenty dollar bill, Pedro tore out of the ticket office.

"Pedro! Where ya goin man?" Shouted Pete, the theatre usher.

"I quit, Pete!" Pedro thundered, breaking into a sprint for his Firebird. "Tell Ray to go fuck himself for me amigo!"

"Large popcorn, extra butter, please." Said the man, chuckling softly, as images of Pedro's fiance being passed around inside the windowless van flitted through his mind.

"Three fifty." Said Chip, the concessions attendant, handing the man his popcorn, and accepting the twenty note.

"Keep the change, Kipper!" Sang the man, brushing Kip's hand lightly, in the same fashion he had brushed Pedro's.

Chip froze, as an image of his father slithered into his thoughts. He hadn't thought of that man since the day of his death, nearly ten years ago. He was the only person that had ever called him Kipper...

"Why did you call me that? Do I know you?" Chip asked in a hollow voice, sounding nothing at all like his own, as the blood drained from his face.

"Just one more picture, Kipper." The man drawled, in the voice of Chip's father. "You took your momma boy. You owe me, so just let me take one more. Then you can put your clothes back on..."

Chip's breath caught, rendering him unable to say what he so desperately wanted to shriek at the top of his lungs. That being, 'You're dead... You can't hurt me anymore! I killed you myself, you son of a bitch'. Motherless since birth, Chip and his father were the only people that could possibly know of these things.

"Yes Kipper, you did..." Cooed Chip's father, dressed in a stranger's skin. "But I'll see you soon enough boy..."

Turning away from the trembling young man at the snack counter, the man entered the theatre, while humming the words to 'All Around the Mulberry Bush', under his breath...

"What the hell was all that about Chip?" Asked Pete, noting Chip's trembling, white knuckled hands grasping the concessions counter, and wild, frightened eyes.

"Oh that was nothing, Pete." Chip lied, fighting to compose himself. "Just not feeling too well today is all..."

"What was that creepy dude sayin to you man?" Pete pressed.

"Hell, I wasn't even paying attention Pete." He lied again. "Hey, where did Pedro go?" Chip said, casting around for anything that would quell the visions flooding his thoughts.

"Oh shit!" Pete swore, having been properly distracted. "He quit man. Quit and asked me to tell Ray to go fuck himself..."

"Well, we gotta have someone to sell tickets bro." Chip said shakily, as composure continued to elude him. "I'll take em, if you wanna work the counter for me..." He finished, hoping to put as much distance between himself and that creepy fucker in the theatre.

"Whatever man." Pete replied with a shrug, trading places with Chip. "What the hell is that dude doin in there?" Pete thought he had heard the stranger laughing.

"Jesus Christ, Chip!" Pete spat, turning his face to the theatre occupied by the stranger only; as Chip made his way to the ticket booth on unsteady legs, without so much as a glance back. "That creepy dude IS fuckin laughing! Can you hear that? Most of em just fuckin throw up. Aint never heard no one laugh at that gory ass shit before!"

"Yeah..." Chip replied dazedly, unable to understand a single word Pete had said, focusing his undivided attention on the ticket booth.

The movie screen began flashing images of the twisted wreckage of a derailed train. As the workers removed body parts of children and adults, the stranger giggled and clapped, showering popcorn all about the seats and floor.

"Oh!" He cried rapturously. "Plenty more where that came from! Oh yes, my best work is yet to come! No hope! No hope!" He sang, clapping again as he watched a woman jump from a fifteen story parking structure, landing with a sickly wet slap.

He sighed contentedly, settling back into his seat to watch the rest of the show...