The Big Whopper

So, I have this friend. And shortly before the Academy Awards, this friend and her girlfriend realized they had no reason to be excited about the show because they hadn't seen any of the nominated movies (after the show, they realized they had no reason to be excited anyway because the hosting was so awful).

They decided to remedy the situation by seeing two of the movies. On the same day. At the same theater. With one movie ticket each.

The girls told their friend, who said he's an expert in such things.

"Couples are more recognizable," he said. "Split up. Throw on a hat or a scarf. Buy something at the concession stand between movies, and you're golden. No one buys something at the concession stand if they've already seen a movie."

These girls never break the rules, though, so they were very nervous. On their walk to the theater, they rehearsed their plan.

"Okay, when the first movie is done, you walk out and go buy something at the concession stand and then go straight to the next theater," the girlfriend said. "I'll go to the bathroom and then meet you there."

"Or I'll go to the bathroom and change and you hit the concession stand," the girl I know said. "But how will we know where the next theater is?"

"Oh," the girlfriend considered. "Okay, when we first get in, we'll wander around for a while like we're looking for our first theater, but really we'll be looking for our second."

"Good idea," my friend agreed.

The first movie they saw was "The Fighter." As the credits began to roll, the girlfriend pushed the girl I know out of her seat.

"Go, go," she whispered. "We need to be with the crowd."

"Good idea!" my friend whispered back.

But then they jumbled their plans.

"Which one of us is going to the bathroom?" my friend whispered, smiling at a theater worker with a broom and dustpan.

"Don't make eye contact with anyone!" the girlfriend hissed.

By now they were both in a tizzy. They started to go different directions, collided and ultimately stumbled--together--into a bathroom where the girlfriend added a layer in one stall and the girl I know took a layer off in another.

"This is suspicious," my friend said. "I don't think a person would naturally be wearing a t-shirt. It's kind of cold."

She put her layer back on.

Then the girls stood in the concession stand line--together. And that's when my friend noticed it. A gigantic surveillance camera.

She gasped.

Her girlfriend looked at her, looked where she was looking and saw what she saw. Panicked, she asked for Whoppers when anybody could tell just by looking at them that they were Junior Mint girls.

"Junior Mints," my friend shouted. "She meant Junior Mints!"

The boy behind the counter gave my friend a look.

By the time they sat down in their seats for the second movie--"The King's Speech"--they were sweating. And early. For several agonizing minutes, they waited for security to come escort them out of the building or worse.

But security never came. Still, the thought that security would come was enough to ruin the whole experience. My friend had a guilt headache and felt like a film glutton.

Or so I'm told.