Partners in crime

"Ask me a question,"

"What?"

"I said 'ask me a question'"

"What?"

"Ask me a different question."

"What?"

"Oh god," Stephen groaned.

"Excuse me, but do I know you?"

Stephen glanced at his watch.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I said 'do I know you?'"

"What film are you going to see?"

"What?"

"Never heard of it."

Stephen examined his watch again.

"Do I know you?" asked the man.

"No"

"Then?"

"...Excuse me."

"What?"

"It's six-thirty"

"What?"

"It's six-thirty"

Stephen pulled something large out of a sports bag by his feet and
spoke in a raised voice.

"Good evening everybody, my name is Stephen. I am holding a gun. This
is a status symbol. Just so you understand the balance of power, the
carrier of said gun requires complete subservience from those of you
without firearms."

Stephen allowed a short silence to stalk the foyer.

"With a bit of luck this gun will remain unused," he continued, "I am,
however, also carrying a knife which has no symbolic value but will be
readily used to cause you pain. Is this understood? Good. My partner
this evening is the tall, devilishly handsome blonde man by the doors.
He is the one also carrying a gun. His name is Pablo. I would like you
all to go with him to the Orpheum."

The theatre was nearly full.

"Okay people, we are going to show you a film. I want you to relax as
much as you can and enjoy, okay? It's a personal favourite, the deer
hunter. Pablo? Would you be so kind as to roll tape?"

Pablo disappeared out the back door leaving it open. The man who
Stephen had spoken to in the queue eyed the exit.

"You," said Stephen pointing the magnum at the man, "go on, run for
it!"

"What?" said the man.

"Make a dash for the door."

"What?"

"Have you ever seen pulp fiction?"

"What?" said the man.

"You can't just keep saying 'what?'"

The man stared blankly.

"Just shut the door please. Thank you. I hope that by now everyone has
come to terms with the fact that you've been taken hostage. Don't worry
though, it's nothing personal, nothing impersonal either, it's more
something that me and Pablo have to work through for ourselves. I am
going to keep the lights on just so we keep an eye on you. One more
thing, mobiles off please."

Stephen glanced at Pablo with a particular smile. It's a smile he
usually reserves for attractive members of the opposite sex who inform
him that they are wearing his underwear. For Stephen, this happens
surprisingly often. Stephen had once been an underwear model; he is
broad and has a jaw line like a boomerang. He gave it up because he was
terrified that people might recognise him. Although no longer modelling
he regularly finds himself selling clothes he has never worn. Just
recently he was flicking through a 'House of Fraser' catalogue when he
stumbled across a younger leaner version of himself. He was wearing an
unfamiliar pair of cr?me cotton briefs and making intimate eye contact
with a woman, also wearing mundane underwear, whom he had never seen
before, and whom, just through the sheer suggestive force of the photo,
he felt he loved. A call to his ex-manager revealed that indeed, it was
perfectly legal to re-use photos, and no, he wouldn't get any
compensation, and yes, clever air brushing was the reason he seemed to
be staring deep into the soul of miss sports bra on page thirty two.
So, he often gets approached by women who are wearing the same garments
as his touched up partners in catalogues and therefore they assume it
is almost by rights that they should be allowed to have sex with him. A
lot of the time Stephen allows them this privilege.

The cinema, the Orpheum, is the only art deco cinema left in Bristol
which hasn't been given the multiplex treatment. The main screen is an
enormous, chandelier lit and ornately gold leafed amphitheatre. Hidden
beneath the centre of the stage is a Wurlitzer that rises out of the
red carpet for premieres and parties. Along time ago when Stephen and
Pablo had stayed in to plan the hostage take, which usually involved
getting stoned and watching films, they had agreed that one of them
should definitely make their entrance into the world of terrorism by
rising heroically, magnum in hand, atop the Wurlitzer. They eventually
concluded that since the Wurlitzer actually takes about a minute and
half to fully emerge there is nothing especially dynamic about awkward
silences only broken by the slow chugging of rusty cogs deep in the
basement. Pablo locked all the doors and went to sit by Stephen on the
stage beneath the cinema screen. They stared out at the forty or fifty
sets of eyes avoiding their gaze.

"How's it going?" asked Pablo quietly.

"Yeah, okay, good."

"You seem unhappy. What are you thinking?"

"Well, I just thought?I just don't feel fully committed yet. You know,
is this it? This is terrorism."

"Stephen? Its still early days. We've only just started. Give it a
chance, okay?"

"Yeah I know but?"

"Give it some time."

"Are you sure we shouldn't?you know??"

"See how you feel in twenty minutes okay? You are doing great."

"Okay."

Stephen let the tip of his magnum touch Pablo's thigh.

"Thanks."

Stephen hopped down off the stage and whispered something in the ear of
an overweight man with a shaved head in the second row. The man nodded
and stood up. With the magnum pointed at his left eye the man walked
towards the locked fire exit door. The mans shiny head reflected the
green light from the sign above the door reminding Stephen of a b-movie
he once saw in which the green light signified that the person was
having their mind read. At this point Stephen and Pablo had prepared a
scripted emotional demolition of the chosen audience member. The
hostage, who is to be as big and butch as is possible, is embarrassed,
ridiculed and broken but ultimately left to live.

Stephen began.

"What's your name?"

"Ian."

"Okay, Ian, ask me a question?"

"What question?"

Stephen breathed out and smiled.

"Anything. How am I? Go on, ask me."

"How are you?"

"Very well thanks. I don't mind telling you I'm a little nervous what
with this being our first venture into the world of the hostage take
but other than that I'm very well. And you, I should hope, are not so
well, what with the whole gun pointing at your head situation?"

The man nodded.

"Married?"

"No."

"Girlfriend?"

"No."

."Good, that's great."

"Have you read anything by an author called William Hazlitt,
Ian?"

"No."

"He was a nineteenth century essayist, a contemporary of Wordsworth,
Coleridge and that lot. No?"

The man shook his head.

"Well I've read everything he ever wrote and..."

"Excuse me, but that's a tautology."

"What?" said Stephen, holding the magnum firmly to the man's temple.
Someone was crying.

"'"Everything he ever wrote" is a tautology. "Everything he ever wrote"
expresses exactly the same thing as "everything he wrote"."

"Well I'm fucking well sorry, is that tautological enough for you
fuckin' fucko?"

"No, because although you have used both the words 'well' and 'fucking'
twice, each instance contributed differently to your message."

Stephen turned to Pablo who was still sat on the stage, head in his
hands.

"How about I shoot you twice, that work?"

"Now, come on, I wouldn't do that."

"Well of course you wouldn't because then you'd be shooting yourself,
but on the other hand, I've got every reason in the world to shoot
you."

"That's just hyperbole, isn't it? 'Every reason in the world'? How
about rising unemployment in the democratic republic of Congo, is that
a reason to shoot me?"

Stephen paused for a moment, involuntarily placing his free hand on his
hip before drawing breath.

"It is now you cunt! I am going to splatter your stupid big brain all
over this shitting cinema!"

"I hate to mention it, but that was an oxymoron..."stupid big brain",
I'm not trying to get shot it's just that..."

"What? What? What is it you just want?"

"Well, I'm just wondering why you are doing all this, you know? You are
both young, good looking, healthy men. I don't see why you need to
throw your lives away in attempt to express that you are in love with
each other."

"WHAT?"

"I mean it was pretty obvious when you were sat up on stage together;
you two have a got a real connection, a real spark, I can tell."

"That is it! I am going to take you down so hard."

"And that is a typical reaction, and that's fine. But in time you will
learn to accept each other's love and perhaps you won't have to show
off so much, all this extravagance is just your way of saying 'I love
you'. I think it's really sweet."

"'Sweet'? You pissy turd of a man, I'm going to... I'm going
to..."

The crying sound was more audible now.

"Look," the man said, pointing to the stage.

Stephen turned to Pablo who was weeping, gun at his side.

"I'm going to tell Pablo I love him...oh god, okay, he's right... he's
so right."

APPLAUSE