Just as spilling means licking in fraternities at college, so crunching shall mean skullfucking under my regime at the picture house.
[Y]our toddler cannot understand the movie and must therefore pay a surcharge of £900 on his or her ticket, both for taking up valuable space in the theatre and for putting the entire audience on amber alert for a loud case of ‘the grumpies’. In such cases, a knowing smile and statement attesting to your child being "overtired" are neither satisfactory nor welcome. You will be ejected from the cinema post-haste, and your child will be fired from a cannon on the roof of the cinema through the icy freeze of outer space and into the heart of the sun.
Last night I was in the Kingdom of Shadows.
If you only knew how strange it is to be there. It is a world without sound, without colour. Every thing there—the earth, the trees, the people, the water and the air—is dipped in monotonous grey. Grey rays of the sun across the grey sky, grey eyes in grey faces, and the leaves of the trees are ashen grey. It is not life but its shadow, It is not motion but its soundless spectre.