Midnight Movie: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

Toeb? What’re your favorite-size breast-a-sauruses? Are you a double-D man? Do you like sticking your face in the cleavage and doing a bronski? Or do you like flat, perky ones like this chick here?”
    Tobe coughed loudly and spit a loogie at the guy’s feet, then said, “Dude McGee, I presume.”

TOBE HOOPER:
    I was this close to punching him in the face, but I was out of shape, and he had about three thousand pounds on me, so I hawked a couple of yellow ones by his shoes. He just laughed, then cut a huge fart that you could smell even though we werehanging out in the great outdoors. I did, however, say, “If you mispronounce my name again, I’ll hit you. And if you speak to this girl like that again, I’ll cut you.”
    Dude belched, then, with what was some impressive aim, spit a goober right on top of one of my goobers and said, “You don’t have a knife on you, Tobe.” He pronounced it right. Hallelujah, praise Jesus. “And even if you did, it’d probably be in your safe, and even if it was in your safe, you’d probably be too lazy to get it. Don’t write a check with your ass that your cock can’t cash. Or something like that.” Then he wiped his hand on his pant leg and offered it up for a shake. “Pleasure to meet you.”
    I’m from the South, and southerners are gentlemen, so I’ve never refused a handshake in my life … but there’s a first time for everything. I said, “Sorry, Mr. McGee, but I have a terrible cold, and I left my Purell back at the hotel. I’ll have to owe you that shake.”
    He said, “And I’m holding you to that. Wait here.” Then he went into his car trunk, pulled out a film canister, and said, “Here it is, the moment you’ve been waiting for. Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce to you the one, the only,
Destiny Express!
” He held it out to me, then said, “Would you like to check it out? Or are you afraid that you’ll give it your terrible cold?”
    Over the years, I’ve developed a pretty good bullshit-o-meter, and this dude was pinging in the red. I took a deep breath, counted to five, then said, “I’d love to check it out, Mr. McGee.” I reached for it, then he yanked it away.
    He said, “Say ‘please.’ ”
    Then the pretty blond girl said, “Jesus Christ, just give him the movie!”
    McGee leered at her chest and said, “Only because you asked me so nicely.” And then he handed it over.
    The canister—which certainly looked to be the original one—was clean and dust free, but it still smelled musty, kind of likewet newspapers. On the label, I’d written in some sort of marker, “TOBE HOOPER’S ‘DESTINY EXPRESS.’ DO NOT VIEW WITHOUT THE PERMISSION OF THE DIRECTOR/SCREENWRITER!!!” I don’t remember doing that, obviously, but it sure sounded like something that the teenage version of yours truly would come up with: pretentious and snotty.
    I opened it up, and there it was, the only existing print of my teenage dabbling into the great world of moviemaking. I took out the reel and unspooled a few frames, but it was too dark to really see anything. I asked Dude, “Have you watched this?”
    He said, “Have I?
Have
I?!”
    The pretty girl said, “Yeah. Have you?”
    He said, “I have …”
    I said, “What did you think?”
    He said, “You didn’t let me finish.
Not
. I have
not
watched it. Wait, that’s a lie. I watched ten minutes of it. That’s all I could stomach.” Then he patted his fat gut and said, “And that’s saying something.”
    I said, “Does that mean it was too gross for you?”
    He belched again, then said, “Something like that.” Then he pointed to the club and said, “Shall we?”
    I gave him back the film and said, “You go ahead. I’ll meet you.”
    As we watched him go, the pretty girl said, “If that’s your audience, remind me never to make a horror movie.”
    I said, “Shit, girl, remind
me
never to make a horror movie.”
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