The theater was a sanctuary of flickering shadows and the smell of overpriced popcorn. For Tom Logan, it was the first time in his entire life that he didn't feel like a target for a falling piano or a stray lightning bolt. He sat next to Cindy Campbell, their hands intertwined, finally feeling a sense of peace that was rare in Stevenson County.
"I can't believe we're actually here," Cindy whispered, leaning her head on Tom's shoulder.
"No masks, no screaming, no math teachers in trash cans."
"It's perfect," Tom agreed. He felt like a king. For a brief moment, his legendary bad luck had taken a vacation.
But while Tom was enjoying his rare moment of victory, the "Logan Curse" hadn't disappeared—it had simply moved three seats down to his brother, George.
George Logan was trying to be the ultimate gentleman for Holly Hale. Since Holly was blind, George felt a massive responsibility to narrate the "vibe" of the theater, even though he was currently failing at the basic task of sitting down.
"Yo, Holly, you feel that luxury? I got us the VIP section, girl," George bragged. In reality, they were sitting in the 'Splash Zone' near the front, where a toddler had recently spilled a five-gallon bucket of "Mega-Sirup."
As George went to lean back and look "cool," he slipped. His baggy jeans didn't just touch the syrup; they became molecularly fused with it. It was a suction cup effect that defied science. When George tried to adjust his position, he realized he was vacuum-sealed to the velvet chair.
"Uhh, Holly? You feel that vibration?" George strained, his face turning red as he tried to peel his butt off the seat. "That's... that's the new 4D ergonomic adhesive technology. It's meant to keep you 'locked in' to the cinematic experience."
"Oh, George! You're so thoughtful!" Holly giggled, reaching out and accidentally patting George on the ear. "It feels so... secure. You really know how to pick a spot."
George gave one massive, desperate heave to free himself. But instead of George coming off the chair, the entire row of six bolted seats ripped out of the concrete floor with a screeching sound of twisting metal. The whole row tilted backward like a seesaw, pinning George underneath a mountain of velvet, iron, and sticky floor.
"OH LORD! I'M BEING SMUSHED!" George muffled, his face pressed against the syrup-covered floor.
"Wow!" Holly exclaimed, feeling the floor tilt. "The 4D effects are so realistic! It feels like I'm actually under a pile of furniture! You're amazing, George!"
"YEAH! REALISM, BABY!" George screamed from under the rubble, his legs kicking uselessly in the air like a flipped turtle.
While Tom and Cindy tried to ignore the sounds of George's structural failure, a much more annoying sound began to fill the theater.
Bryan, the school's most insufferable nerd, was sitting two rows back. Bryan had glasses thicker than a fish tank and a voice that sounded like a wet balloon rubbing against glass. He wasn't watching the movie; he was auditing it.
"Actually!" Bryan shouted, loud enough for the whole theater to hear. "The lighting in this scene is completely inconsistent with the established sun position! And the female lead's motivation is a clear violation of the Campbellian Hero's Journey! This script was clearly written by a chimpanzee with a head injury! I could provide a much more nuanced critique if the rest of you weren't breathing so loudly!"
In the row behind him, a dark, hooded figure leaned forward. Ghostface had been trying to enjoy his nachos in peace, but Bryan's "Actually!" was making his knife-hand twitch. Ghostface leaned over and tapped Bryan on the shoulder.
"Shhh," Ghostface whispered through his voice changer. "People are trying to watch."
"Don't 'shhh' me, you masked amateur!" Bryan snapped, turning around. "Do you even know the history of the slasher genre? Your mask is a 2024 revisionist model, which is historically inaccurate for a film set in 2026! Your stitching is a disgrace to the franchise!"
That was it. Ghostface didn't say another word. He stood up, the projector light casting a long shadow, and drove his blade directly into Bryan's chest.
"HA!" Bryan laughed, even as blood sprayed his glasses. "Missed! Well, you hit me, but I have a rare condition where my heart was moved to the other side of my body during a surgery in 2022! I'm practically immortal, you uneducated—"
Ghostface didn't wait. He lunged again. But this time, he wasn't alone. The rest of the audience, driven to a collective madness by Bryan's voice, stood up. They didn't scream. They didn't run. They just gathered around Bryan like a silent, angry mob.
With Ghostface leading the way, the audience members—including Brenda, who used her orthopedic neck brace as a blunt weapon—proceeded to finish Bryan off. They did it with remarkable efficiency and surprising silence, making sure not to disturb the movie's audio.
Tom and Cindy, lost in their own world, didn't even turn around.
"Is it just me, or did the theater get a lot quieter?" Cindy asked.
"Maybe the 4D effects George mentioned include 'total silence' mode," Tom whispered, pulling her closer.
With Bryan finally gone, the movie became much more enjoyable. Ghostface sat back down, wiped his blade on a discarded napkin, and went back to his nachos.
Underneath the row of seats, George was losing the battle. In his final attempt to push the chairs off himself, he grabbed a loose metal support bar.
"I... am... the... MAN!" George grunted, putting every ounce of his "rapper strength" into one last shove.
The bar snapped. It swung back like a spring-loaded trap and hit George directly in the center of his forehead with a loud, metallic THWACK.
George's eyes rolled back.
"Holly... why is the popcorn... singing to me?..." he whispered before falling into a dead faint. His body went limp, finally pinned comfortably under the velvet seat.
Holly, hearing the loud thud and then the sudden, peaceful silence, reached out her hand. She felt the heavy metal of the seats, and then she felt George's soft, unconscious face. In her mind, she had put the pieces together: the loud crashing, the "battle" with the loud nerd (Bryan), and now George lying still.
"Oh, George!" Holly gasped, her heart swelling with pride. "You did it... you fought off those monsters and that mean, loud-mouthed man just to keep me safe! You've exhausted yourself protecting my honor! You're my hero!"
She leaned down, her hair falling like a curtain around George's unconscious head. She found his forehead—the spot right next to the massive bruise he'd just given himself—and pressed a sweet, soft, and incredibly tender kiss onto his skin.
George, even in his deep, syrup-induced coma, felt the touch. A giant, blissful smile spread across his face. In his dreams, he was a superstar, and Holly was his queen, and he had never tripped over a single thing in his life. He let out a happy, peaceful sigh, even as his forehead started to turn a dark shade of purple.
As the credits began to roll, Tom and Cindy stood up, feeling like they were floating on air. The date had been a miracle. No disasters (for them), no blood (that they not noticed), and a lot of romance.
"Best movie ever," Cindy said, kissing Tom on the cheek.
"See? I told you it would be okay," Tom smiled, feeling for once like the luckier Logan.
They walked out of the theater, stepping over the remains of Bryan without even noticing him.
Behind them, two ushers were trying to figure out how to unstick George from the floor.
"He's resting," Holly told the ushers with a radiant smile. "He's a warrior. Just let him sleep. He earned it."
George stayed asleep, smiling in the dark, with the memory of Holly's kiss keeping him warm even as the janitors started the heavy-duty cleaning.