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“Ok, let’s go to the GhettoPlex.”

They jumped in Steven’s old Pontiac, and headed across town. They parked in the run down old parking lot, grabbed the backpacks loaded with the equipment necessary for their plan, and headed for the theater.

“We’d like two tickets to see… uh, what are we seeing?” The friend with beard stepped away from the ticket window.

Steven didn’t know, but it didn’t matter.”

“Umm, March of Penguins.”

“What?!”

“March of Penguins.”

“Why?”

“I told you, it doesn’t matter, we just need an empty theater.”

“Right.”

“Two for March of Penguins, please.”

They got their tickets and went into the lobby.

“Sir, you can’t bring your bag into the theater.”

“There’s nothing wrong in it.”

“Let me check it.”

“I told you, there’s nothing.”

“If I don’t check it, you can’t come in.”

They surrendered their bags.

“You can’t take this inside. Put them away.”

The boys regretfully put their bags back into the car, knowing their plan was now ruined.

“Well, we can still go see March of Penguins.” Steven tried to be optimistic.

“No, thanks.”

THE END?

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