So it was about 40 minutes ago. I was sitting in a sweaty, greasy, shit-caked seat in the theater watching Return of the King. The spraying sound of a person with an oxygen tank was overwhelming my ears just like he had been doing for the last fucking 3 1/2 hours. Every 3 seconds..that goddamn noise. His tank was louder than a fucking chainsaw being thrusted through my head. I sat there barely able to comprehend what was going on.
Frodo and Sam look at each other. The screen slowly fades black...
Oh fuck, the movie is finally ending!
The camera fades back, we see the Shire, we see all sorts of bullshit.
Repeat this process......5 times. There's one time when I was absolutely sure the movie was ending, THEN WE GET ANOTHER 30 MINUTES OF IT. I was so pissed off that I drank Pepsi. Why the hell are you torturing us like this, Peter Jackson? Stupid senile old shaggy ass basting whore. We get all these fade-outs with the cameras, and cheery ass music that NEVER LETS OFF. I SWEAR THERE IS MORE MUSIC IN THIS MOVIE THAN FONDLED PENISES AT NEVERLAND RANCH. Come to think of it, I'd rather have Michael Jackson invite me to Neverland and give me some sort of virus like HIV...then I'd have 3 years to live, so in other words I'd die before I reached the end of the movie.
But about that damn asshole with the oxygen tank. I timed the amount of time it took for his machine to make noise...it happened every 3 seconds. In other words, I had to hear that sound roughly 4,200 times before I left the theater. During the movie's intervals of people coming near death, and all that happy touchy shit, I had visions of me grabbing that decaying asshat by his throat and cutting his oxygen tube. Then I'd slit his wrists and let him hang upside down on the ceiling of the theater to die.
In fact, why the fuck does our theater have that lit up star backdrop anyway? What the fuck does it add to our theater? Oh, you look up and guess what? You're outside at night! No. I'm still inside in a stupid theater full of stupid assholes who talk. A hot slut sat next to me. But her mother was there, and she was one of those stupid fat whores who always have to comment about everything. I hate her. She just started talking, and talking, and going on about the movie. She wouldn't shut the fuck up. I wanted to take her to Carl's Jr, which is punishment enough...but then I'd stick her face in the greasetrap and burn her eyes out. I'd take her out back and shoot her in the head with a .44. What a dumb bitch. Then I'd come back to the theater and have sex with her daughter.
Then there's all these stupid ass kids at the movie, who talk as well. At the beginning of the movie, they were around five or six years old, and would read the text in the movie. Goddamn it I did not pay to hear you assholes reading for me. Of course by the time the movie ended, they were old enough to drive. I don't care if they are young or not, I'd still kick their asses across the theater.
I tried everything to end this movie. I killed people, I tried lighting myself on fire with a lighter...I even tried leaving. But everything below my waistline was completely numb, including my genitals. I jabbed a pen into my dick but couldn't feel it. Eventually a paramedic came to take me to my house and onto my computer chair, in which now I am telling you to avoid putting yourself into this torture.
By the way, I loved the movie, but I didn't care for the overlength. Peter Jackson needs to start cutting his movies a little shorter than his career.