next murder piece

Paul made his way back into movie with a drink in each hand, a tub of popcorn between them. This time he ignored the comments and hisses as he sidestepped over to his seat. He handed a drink to Peggy while holding the tub in his teeth.

            “Where’ve you been?” Peggy demanded as quietly as she could manage.

            Paul told his rehearsed lie, She seemed to believe him and fondly touched his wounded face Her thin fingers traced his cheek and then she bent over to kiss him, but he pulled back. She then made a pass for the tub of popcorn, but Paul pulled it away angrily. Peggy sighed and settled back to her original position, cradling her drink. Let him sulk, all he wants, she thought.

As he stuffed the warm popcorn into his mouth, Paul thought about the threat the thug had made. He flinched as he realized that he had put too much butter-salt on his popcorn. He felt chills, but couldn’t figure out where they came from. His wet pants clung to him coldly. The threat pushed its way to the forefront of his mind. The Grover case had looked open and shut- but now Mr. Hubert Grover had sent a thug to threaten him. Paul smiled as the thought of suing Grover for harassment and this theater too. The money floated around in his head. He happily stuffed more popcorn into his mouth, forgetting all about the dampness in his crotch and Caitlin’s attack.

            Peggy suddenly grabbed his arm and said, “This isn’t diet.”

            Paul handed Peggy the other drink and took another handful of popcorn. He arched his back as a stabbing pain reminded him of the force of that push into the urinal.

            “This isn’t diet either!” hissed Peggy with disgust.

Paul felt a wave of nausea as he put another handful of popcorn into his mouth. It had a metallic taste- maybe it was stale. The chills returned and Paul felt them race through his abdomen. The tub of popcorn dropped from his hand. It spilt all over Peggy’s lap and onto the floor.

            “Paul- watch out- you just spilt the ‘corn!” she said trying to squirm out of the way. She began to brush the oily popcorn off her jeans.

            Paul tried to turn his head to look at her but found he couldn’t. Brad Pitt had returned to the screen. He was saying something about death and taxes. Panic rose inside of Paul, and his heart raced. He tried to get up but he couldn’t feel his legs or feet. He tried to move, but his fingers went numb. It was as if his extremities had gone to sleep. He tried to call for help, but only managed to gasp. He blinked and realized that he was paralyzed. He blinked again staring at the screen and at Brad Pitt. Paul agonized at the thought of having to watch Brad Pitt until Peggy would notice and get help. Paul hated Brad Pitt, and having to watch him. Paul thought: I would rather die.