THE STINGER: By Asher Ellis
Thursday, December 17th, 2009Mark was just about to leave the theater when he overheard the couple sitting one row in front of him. As he was reaching for his jacket while the end credits began to roll, the girl raised her voice high enough to be heard over the closing music.
“Can we leave now?” The girl asked in a whiny voice that didn’t make Mark regret being single.
Her date answered, “Hold on, babe. I want to wait and see if this movie has a stinger.”
“A what?”
The boy explained, “A stinger is what they called a hidden scene after the end credits. I always forget to hang around and then I have to wait for the DVD to see it.”
Mark thought that was a good idea. The girlfriend did not.
“But I have to go to the bathroom!”
“Then go!” The boyfriend said through a mouthful of popcorn as he finished the tub. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Whatever.” The girl stood up and stormed away, bumping Mark’s shoulder but doing nothing to apologize. The boy turned his head to watch his girlfriend stomp up the aisle towards the exit, making eye contact with Mark in the process. He rolled his eyes with a shrug of his shoulders.
But before Mark could return the gesture, a hulking figure appeared from the shadows under the bottom right corner of the screen. Mark could tell he was an usher from his red vest and black bow tie, but couldn’t believe the employee had been standing there during the entire feature. The usher walked past them and exited through the back doors, leaving Mark and the boy as the only two left in the theater.
The musical credits were now appearing on screen. It knew it would not be long before the moment of truth. Mark wondered if the grief the boyfriend was sure to receive later would be worth it.
Light suddenly washed into the dark room as the entrance doors swung open. Mark turned to see a new set of patrons beginning to shuffle in and couldn’t decide what was odder: that they would allow another audience to enter before the theater could be cleaned or that there would be another film considering Mark had caught an 11:45 late show.
The last of the new crowd, which was complied solely of middle aged men dressed mostly in business suits and trucker’s outfits, took their seats. Mark had just noticed all the men were sitting by themselves, including the one that sat directly behind him, when the credits finished and the screen became an illuminated white.
A moment later, an image appeared and it seemed like the boyfriend had been right all along. But as Mark eagerly stared at the extra scene which might reveal the promise of a sequel, he began to realize what he was looking at.
Instead of the glossy, polished look that was expected of all well funded Hollywood pictures, this footage resembled the low quality of a standard home camcorder. The camera, unmoving, was aimed at a crucifix shaped operating table. A familiar looking actress, bound by wrist and ankle restraints, struggled to free herself and moaned through the slab of duct tape covering her mouth. Mark squinted through the film’s heavy grain as another actor emerged from behind the camera, slowly approaching the captive girl with a surgical buzz saw in his hand.
Just as the instrument whirred to life a mere inch from her face, Mark identified the girl.
And so did her boyfriend.
“Jessica? Oh, God!” The boy shot up from his seat and leapt into the aisle, his feet hardly touching the sticky floor.
Mark spun in his chair just in time to see the boyfriend reach for the handles of the double door exit which suddenly flew open from the other side. Standing in the doorway was the gigantic usher, a baseball bat in his hands. Mark could hear the sickening crack over the commotion on screen as the weapon connected with the boy’s skull. But he had to tear his eyes away when the usher reached down and dragged the still twitching body away, a trail of blood following behind.
Mark’s eyes darted around the theater, trying to avoid looking at the film before him which was getting more horrific with each passing second. His search for another exit was brought to an abrupt halt when the hand on his shoulder almost made him jump from his seat.
Mark turned to face a grisly older man, his visage hidden by a dirty gray beard and a plaid wool hat.
“Hey,” the stranger whispered, nodding towards the doors where the boy was dragged away not moments ago. “I would hang around after the show if I were you. I have a feeling there’s going to be a stinger.”
©2009 Asher Ellis
Asher Ellis’ fiction has previously appeared in Verbicide Magazine, MicroHorror, Rope and Wire, Sex and Murder, and Flashshot and is forthcoming in The Monsters Next Door, The Cynic Online Magazine, Bewildering Stories, Sideshow Fables, and Yellow Mama. My stage play script, “Stupid Cupids,” was accepted by the Kennedy Center American College Theater Festival in 2005.
