"Saturday night, at eight o'clock,
I know where I'm gonna go.
I gonna pick my baby up
And take her to the picture show."
"Everybody in the neighborhood
Is dressin' up to go there, too.
Hoo-hoo-hoo! HOO-HOO-HOO-hoo-hoo!
And, we're gonna have a ball
Just like we always do."
Michael Smith and Alexandra Bigelow looked at each other, and smiled, as they listened to this rock-and-roll classic (of the "doo-wop" style) being transmitted to their car radio via the wireless speakers on either side of them. A casual on-looker would probably have assumed them to be fraternal twins, as they were both seventeen-years old and wearing matching outfits (blue jeans, white sneakers, and white shirts under gray windbreakers).
But, Sandy--as she preferred to be known--had long, light-brown hair and slightly darker brown eyes. Where Michael had short, wavy black hair and blue eyes. Furthermore, she was the daughter and only child of the headmaster of nearby Goodson Academy. While he was one of a family of four in charge of landscape maintenance at the school.
They had known each other for twelve years, yet had only been dating for two. Ever since the discovery, in fact, that they had a common interest: a love for vintage science fiction and fantasy films. The more outlandish, the better!
And, tonight, the Retroplex would be closing its current season with an old-fashioned triple feature: HERCULES VS. THE BLACK KNIGHT (1963); THE MONSTER THAT WASN'T GILA (1957); and INVASION OF THE BATON TWIRLERS FROM OUTER SPACE (1979).
The first two films had a collective running time of one hundred fifty minutes. So, they had been shown back-to-back, prior to intermission. And, as they had already devoured the snack bar food they had purchased prior to the opening cartoon, the two youngsters had fifteen minutes all to themselves.
Unfortunately, that was when the Cajun chicken fingers they had shared chose to act up.
"Ah, frig it!" muttered Michael: "Sorry, Sandy. Game called on account of stomach pain."
She half-giggled/half-groaned: "I can empathize. Believe me! Let's head for the head."
Ten minutes later, as Michael was washing his hands, he heard an all-too familiar voice behind him.
"Well, well, well! Who do we have here?"
Michael turned around. Sure enough! It was Wesley Saxon. Captain of the academy football team; heir to the Saxon Pharmaceuticals fortune; and Sandy's ex-boyfriend. And, on top of that? He had four of his teammates with him.
"What do you want, Wes?"
The blond, blue-eyed super-jock smiled...like a Cheshire cat with rabies.
"What I want...is to know what a bright girl like Sandy sees in a home-schooled piece of poor white trash like you."
Michael's eyes narrowed.
"It's better than coming from a long line of plutocratic hypocrites."
"Oooooooooh!" chorused the Four Stooges. That is; until Wes silenced them with a glare. Then, he turned to look back at Michael.
"Just what did you mean by that?"
"I mean; of all the snobbish, bigoted Old Money brats at the academy, you're the worst. You think the only dirt-poor relatives on your family tree were Adam and Eve! And, frankly? I'm bored to death with it. Go blow your hot air on somebody else. In fact; go blow yourself! Period."
Wes' teammates looked at each other, and then at Wes. The latter's face had turned red, and his clenched fists were quivering in un-concealed rage.
"Bored to death, huh?" he finally snarled through gritted teeth: "Well, what say we perform us a little mercy killing? Huh, guys?"
The Four Stooges grinned as one; each pounding his right fist into the palm of left hand, two or three times, in eager anticipation. Then, with a yell worthy of Viking berserkers, they charged forward!
But, Michael surprised them. He ran back towards the sink, and jumped up into it. He then sprang upward in a backward somersault, landing behind his would-be assailants!
As they spun about, dumbfounded, Michael jumped forward. In the process, his right foot slammed into Wes' chest, causing the latter to stumble backward, and hit the back of his head against the mirror.
Following which, Michael ducked under the telegraphed punch of the stooge to his left. While down there, he punched that particular opponent in the gonads! Allowing Michael to lift him up bodily, and throw him atop the two stooges to his right.
Unfortunately, this allowed the fourth stooge to tackle him to the ground.
Yet, just as he was about to flood Michael's face with a series of right-handed punches, the latter turned his head to the left and bit the young man's calf!
"ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!" screamed the stooge. That is; until Wes pulled him off Michael, bodily. He then pulled Michael to his feet by the lapels of his windbreaker.
Yet, just as he was about to let fly with a straight right jab at Michael's nose, the latter criss-crossed his arms up and over Wes' left arm. Slamming all three arms downward! Thereby allowing Michael to duck under that punch, as well.
As a result, Wes received two right jabs to his stomach; a right upper-cut to his jaw; and a left hook to the right side of his head. All of which collapsed him like a wet sack of organic fertilizer.
Unfortunately, by that point, the three jocks, that had been dog-piled on top of each other, had become disentangled enough to tackle Michael to the floor, as well. Allowing them to spread-eagle him! One each pinning his arms; the third pinning both his legs.
"OK, Wes! We got him. We got him!!"
No sooner had this exclamation been uttered, however, than the wall separating the men's and women's rest rooms suddenly developed a very large hole. And, looking down at them, through it, was a topless semi-giantess. Eight feet tall, at least! With a face full of bestial fury...and a bedraggled head of light-brown hair.
tbc
Giantess World
Author's Chapter Notes:
RETROPLEX DRIVE-IN,
GOODSON, CONNECTICUT
OCTOBER 24, 2009
(9:30 P.M./EST)
GOODSON, CONNECTICUT
OCTOBER 24, 2009
(9:30 P.M./EST)
Chapter End Notes:
"Saturday Night At The Movies"
B. Mann & C. Weil, songwriters.
Copyright 1964; Screen Gems-EMI Music, Inc.
B. Mann & C. Weil, songwriters.
Copyright 1964; Screen Gems-EMI Music, Inc.