Theater Thug
Closing Time at the Premiere Movie Theater
Josh, his shoulders slumped with fatigue, meticulously wiped down the concession stand countertop. Gavin, his co-worker, methodically stacked chairs onto nearby tables, the rhythmic clatter echoing through the mostly empty theater. The long day had taken its toll, and Josh couldn't wait to head home.
"Hey, Josh," Drake's voice cut through the quiet, jolting Josh from his cleaning reverie. "S'up, Gavin?"
"Stacking chairs," Gavin responded in his usual monotone, his eyes never leaving his task.
"Cool," Drake replied with a casual shrug, his attention already shifting to his brother. "So, you still want a ride home?"
Josh nodded, a grateful smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, just let me power down the popcorn machine first."
Just as Josh reached for the popcorn machine's power switch, Helen, the theater manager, sauntered into the lobby, her hips swaying to an unheard salsa beat.
"Alright, Josh, I'm goin' salsa dancin', so you lock up tonight," she announced, tossing the keys to Josh with a casual flick of her wrist.
Josh fumbled with the keys, his confusion evident. "Why can't Gavin lock up?" he questioned, his gaze shifting between Helen and his co-worker.
Helen's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Who do ya' think I'm goin' salsa dancin' with?" she replied, tilting her head towards Gavin.
"Adios, Josh," Gavin said, mirroring Helen's playful grin.
"Make sure you mop the floors before you leave," Helen reminded Josh. Then, her gaze softened as she turned to Drake. "And Drake, you are cute as a clamshell! See ya'!" She waved enthusiastically before turning and sashaying towards the exit, Gavin following suit with a rhythmic flourish.
"Have fun, Helen," Drake called out, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Oh, we gonna have a fiesta of a time!" Helen replied, her laughter echoing through the lobby as she and Gavin disappeared through the doors.
Drake turned to Josh, who was still diligently wiping down the popcorn machine.
"Hey, can you do me a favor?" Josh asked, his voice laced with a hint of exhaustion. "Get the mop from the janitor's closet while I lock up," Josh requested.
Drake's brow furrowed. "I dunno where it is," he protested.
"Just go past Helen's office and then take the stairs down to the basement," Josh explained, pointing in the general direction.
"Stairs?" Drake groaned, his voice laced with annoyance. "You owe me."
Drake sauntered off towards the basement, leaving Josh to finish his cleaning duties. While Josh's back was turned, a man wearing a black ski hat, a worn brown leather jacket, and a shifty look in his eyes came strolling into the theater lobby.
Josh turned to go and lock up the front doors when he paused upon noticing the man. "Sorry, bro, we're closed," he announced.
The man's lips curled into a sly grin, his eyes narrowing as he studied Josh's face. "Didn't I see you on TV last week?" he inquired, his voice raspy and low.
Josh's heart sank. Here we go again, he thought, bracing himself for another round of mistaken identity.
"Yes," he admitted with a sigh, "but look I'm not the real Theater Thug." He fumbled with the keys, ready to just lock up and call it a night.
"Yeah, I know that," the man replied, his grin widening.
Relief washed over Josh. "Good," he said.
"I am," the man declared.
"Look, I'm about to close up..."
Josh's words died in his throat, his blood running cold. Looking closer at the man, the realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He was face-to-face with the actual Theater Thug.
"Hello..." Josh said nervously, his voice barely above a whisper.
The Theater Thug's demeanor shifted in an instant. His eyes narrowed, and his voice boomed through the lobby. "Where's the money?!" he demanded, his aggression palpable.
Josh's heart hammered in his chest, his stomach churning with fear. "I-I don't know...!" he choked out, his voice trembling.
"Yeah, you do!" the thug snarled, jabbing a finger accusingly at Josh's face.
Josh's resolve crumbled under the weight of the man's menacing presence. "Y-yeah, I do..." he whimpered, his eyes darting around the lobby in desperation.
"Where is it?!" the thug growled, his impatience growing.
"R-register..." Josh managed, pointing a shaky finger towards the concession stand.
"Get it!" the thug commanded, shoving Josh in the direction of the cash register. Josh, his fear overriding any sense of defiance, reluctantly obeyed.
"I'll go get it!"
Josh scrambled to the register, his fingers fumbling with the keys. But as he stood there, a surge of defiance coursed through him. He couldn't just let this criminal walk away with the theater's hard-earned money.
"WHAT?!" the thug roared, his patience wearing thin.
"Um... like... Helen says I'm not allowed to open the register unless someone makes a purchase," he blurted out, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips.
The Theater Thug's face contorted in rage. "Either ya' open the register, or I open your head!" he barked, his finger jabbing menacingly at Josh's temple.
Tears welled up in Josh's eyes. "Well, I do like my head closed," he whimpered.
"OPEN IT!" the thug bellowed, his patience exhausted.
"Opening!" Josh relented, his fingers trembling as he unlocked the register. Right as the register popped open, a symphony of police sirens pierced the night air, growing louder with each passing second.
"The cops!" Josh cried, a flicker of hope igniting in his eyes.
"Did you hit the alarm?!" The Theater Thug snarled, his grip tightening on Josh's arm.
Josh's voice quivered, but he managed to reply, "No... we don't even have an alarm." He attempted a weak smile, hoping to appease the agitated criminal. "But even if we did, I still wouldn't hit it cuz I like to think of us as friends, don't you?"
"No!" The Theater Thug scoffed, roughly grabbing Josh by the collar of his vest.
"Well why would ya'?!" Josh replied, tears starting to fall down his face.
"COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!" a police officer's voice boomed through a megaphone, echoing through the theater. "WE HAVE THE PLACE SURROUNDED! YOU CAN'T ESCAPE!"
Josh, sensing an opportunity, tried to reason with his captor. "Did you hear him?" he squeaked. "You should probably give yourself up. There's no escape."
"COME OUTTA THERE! THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING!"
Panic flared in the Theater Thug's eyes. He tightened his grip on Josh, pulling the boy into a headlock with a yelp and slowly making his way to the front door.
"No, this is your last warning!" he shouted back, his voice laced with desperation. "I've gotta kid! Look, I'm goin' out the front door! Nobody try and stop me!"
Josh struggled against the thug's hold, his face turning red. "Please let me go!" he choked out. "You're squishing my Adam's apple!"
"Shut up!" the thug snapped, his frustration mounting.
"Hey, man, ya'know ya' got a big head?" the Theater Thug sneered, his grip tightening painfully around Josh's neck.
"Yeah, dude, I know," Josh choked out, his voice muffled.
Just then, Drake burst back into the lobby, mop in hand. His eyes widened in horror at the sight of his brother held hostage.
"Josh, duck!" Drake yelled, his voice filled with urgency. He swung the mop with all his might, aiming for the Theater Thug's head.
But before he could react, the mop connected with Josh's skull instead, sending him sprawling to the floor.
The Theater Thug released Josh and turned to face Drake, his eyes blazing with anger.
Drake, his heart pounding in his chest, brandished the mop like a makeshift weapon. "I have a mop!" he warned, his voice trembling slightly.
The Theater Thug merely scoffed, easily disarming Drake with a swift flick of his wrist.
"I had a mop," Drake muttered, his shoulders slumping in defeat. With no other options, he turned and bolted, diving over a nearby table for cover.
The Theater Thug gave chase, the two of them weaving in and out of the rows of seats like a cat and mouse, their frantic movements echoing through the empty theater.
"ALRIGHT, COME OUTTA THERE! YA' GOT 30 SECONDS!" the police officer's amplified voice echoed through the theater once more, adding a layer of urgency to the already tense atmosphere.
Drake, spotting Josh holding the mop, saw an opportunity. He sprinted towards his brother, hoping to lure the Theater Thug into a trap.
"Josh! Josh!" Drake yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos.
As the Theater Thug closed in, Drake deftly ducked under the mop handle. Josh, understanding his brother's plan, swung the mop with all his might, catching the unsuspecting criminal across the face. The impact sent the Theater Thug stumbling backward, crashing to the floor with a grunt.
Without hesitation, Drake and Josh pounced on the fallen man, their combined weight pinning him to the ground.
"We got 'em!" Josh shouted triumphantly, his voice a mixture of relief and exhilaration.
"There he is!" a police officer shouted, his voice echoing through the lobby.
A small squad of officers rushed in, their weapons drawn and adrenaline pumping. They quickly formed a tight circle around the struggling trio, their guns trained on Josh.
"Wait! I'm not the guy!" Josh protested, his voice rising in panic.
Drake, his protective instincts kicking in, stepped in front of his brother. "Yeah, he's not the guy!" he echoed, his voice firm and resolute. He grabbed the back of the Theater Thug's head, forcing him to look up at the officers. " This is the Theater Thug!"
"Yeah, yeah, he's the one!" Josh added, frantically pointing at the real culprit.
The officers lowered their weapons, their eyes darting between Josh and the man on the floor. One of them pulled out a photo of the Theater Thug, comparing it to the man Drake and Josh had apprehended.
"The kid's right," the officer confirmed, a look of surprise crossing his face. "The one on the floor is the real Theater Thug."
"And look, that kid's even wearing a Premiere Theater vest," another officer chimed in, gesturing towards Josh's red uniform.
Josh instinctively patted his vest, a relieved smile spreading across his face. Finally, someone recognized the obvious.
"Our apologies, young man," one of the officers said, extending a hand to Josh. "It seems we've had a case of mistaken identity here."
Josh shook the officer's hand, a relieved smile finally gracing his lips. "Yeah, I've been used to it for the past week," he replied with a self-deprecating chuckle.
"You boys did a great job capturing the Theater Thug," another officer commended, patting Drake on the back.
"We'll take it from here," a third officer assured them, gesturing to his colleagues.
The officers surrounded the Theater Thug, their movements swift and practiced. They hauled him to his feet and secured his wrists with handcuffs.
"Anthony Hart, also known as the Theater Thug, you're under arrest for ten counts of robbery, one count of attempted robbery, and one count of attempted kidnapping," the lead officer declared, his voice booming through the lobby.
"You're going away for a long time," another officer added grimly. "Let's go."
As the officers escorted the Theater Thug out of the theater, he shot a venomous glare at Drake and Josh. The chilling intensity of his gaze sent shivers down their spines, a reminder of the danger they had just faced.
With the Theater Thug finally apprehended and the police officers gone, Drake and Josh collapsed near the concession stand, their bodies slumping with exhaustion. They exchanged relieved smiles, their hearts still pounding from the adrenaline rush.
"Thank God that's over," Josh sighed, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. "I thought I was going to have a heart attack."
Drake chuckled, playfully punching Josh's arm. "You and me both, brotha. That was way too close for comfort."
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the past week finally lifting from their shoulders. Josh, especially, felt a profound sense of gratitude. He had been living a nightmare, constantly mistaken for a dangerous criminal and subjected to violence. But tonight, thanks to Drake's quick thinking and bravery, justice had prevailed, and Josh's innocence had been proven.
"I can't believe I almost got arrested again," Josh mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief.
Drake nodded in agreement. "Yeah. But hey, at least it's all over now." He grinned at his brother. "And you've got me to thank for that."
Josh returned the grin, a genuine warmth spreading through him. "Thanks, Drake," he said sincerely. "I don't know what I would have done without you." A warm smile beamed across Drake's face.
Looking around, Josh noticed the discarded mop lying on the ground near the ticket booth.
"Aw geez," Josh muttered.
Drake's chuckle echoed through the lobby as he watched Josh scramble to his feet and grab the mop. "I better get mopping, or else Helen will kill me," Josh mumbled, a hint of panic in his voice.
A genuine smile spread across Drake's face as he approached his brother. "I'll help ya'," he offered, his voice sincere.
Josh's eyes widened in surprise. "You will?"
"Yeah," Drake replied, his gaze unwavering. "After what just happened, it's the least I can do."
Josh's heart swelled with gratitude. "Aw, thanks, brotha," he said, pulling Drake into a tight embrace.
Drake squirmed, his voice muffled against Josh's shoulder. "Okay, okay, you're crushin' my lungs."
Josh quickly released his grip, a sheepish grin on his face. "Sorry..."
"It's okay," Drake chuckled, playfully ruffling Josh's hair.
"Well, let's get to mopping," Josh declared, his spirits lifted.
"Right," Drake agreed.
As the brothers set off to work, a sense of camaraderie filled the air. Josh couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for his stepbrother. For all of his faults, Drake had proven once again that he had Josh's back when it mattered most.
With the Theater Thug behind bars and Drake by his side, Josh felt a newfound sense of peace. He could finally put the past week's nightmare behind him and look forward to a future free from mistaken identity and unwarranted attacks by little old ladies and Boy Scouts.