Man, sometimes you just need a day off. That was my day and it was lovely. The Halloween sales and empty shelves indicate we’re nearing the last days of the month. Where has the time gone? Well, I’m not going to worry about that for too long right now, we’ve still got more stories to tell. Tonight we’re going to hang out with two of the folks from The Boo Club a few nights back. You don’t need to have read that one – I think their personalities will present themselves pretty quickly here. Get your popcorn, it’s movie night…
The old Avalon theater on Crenshaw closed at the end of July and sat shuttered since while the owner tried to find a buyer for the space. On any Saturday night for decades, the Avalon would be bustling with excited patrons eager for the latest blockbuster passing others exiting energized or shocked or, sometimes, disappointed, but their energies crisscrossed beneath the glowing marquee, through the lobby that smelled enticingly of fresh popcorn and possibility.
For the last few months, though, the marquee has remained dark. Where black letters spelled out the titles of the movies playing inside, now those letters just read, “THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES. – THE AVALON”. And behind the locked front doors, their windows blanked out by cardboard, the concessions stood silent.
But tonight, the warming light of one of the popcorn machines winked on, casting a faint amber glow across the counter. A hum followed, low and electric, like the machine was clearing its throat after years of silence.
The kettle lid rattled once, then again. Something inside shifted. And then—pop. Just one, at first. Then another. A soft pop-pop-pop until the old glass box came alive, rain of white kernels spilling into the tray below as if the theater itself had decided to make a snack.
The door to one of the theaters opened of its own accord…
“Steve, are we going to watch movies or are you going to mess with that thing– Holy crap, you got it working!”
“I did,” Steve said matter-of-factly, inwardly just as surprised as Dale. “I’ll be in in a sec. Do you want butter on your popcorn?”
“Does a séance need candles?” Steve asked incredulously.
“I mean, it depends on–”
“Of course I want butter, Dale.”
“Okay,” Dale said, getting a cardboard bucket ready. “This place has been closed for a few months. No guarantees the butter is still good…”
“Does it look like I’m going to die of food poisoning?” Steve responded. “Hurry up, I’ve got the first movie ready to go.”
A few minutes later, the two ghosts sat in the empty theater as the screen glowed and the movie starts as a librarian pushes a book cart into the underground book storage. Books float between stacks behind her, unnoticed. Soon, though card catalogs start flipping their cards out behind her (“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Steve whispered). Hearing the cards scattering, she turns, shrieks, and tries to frantically flee the maze-like stacks only to confront what, from the audience point of view, is a bright light and loud noise. Eyes wide, the librarian screams and Ray Parker Jr’s iconic song starts before the title card for “Ghostbusters.”
“Oh my god, I’ve always wanted to see this!” Dale beamed.
“You’ve never seen the original 1984 ‘Ghostbusters’? How is that even possible?”
“I died in ‘83.”
“Oh,” Steven said, “That would explain it.”
On screen, the three would-be Ghostbusters are in the library basement and come upon a stack of books. “This is hot, Ray,” Egon says.
“Symmetrical book stacking, just like the Philadelphia mass turbulence of 1947,” Ray replies
“You’re right, no human being would stack books like this…” Venkman retorts, deadpan.
Steve snorted. “I like this guy.”
“Symmetrical book stacking is just a polite poltergeist,” Dale said.
Steve nodded thoughtfully. “We could use more of those.”
A few moments later, the Ghostbusters confront the librarian ghost with a shout of “Get her!” and the ghost flares into a shrieking ghoul, scaring the Ghostbusters into fleeing the library.
“See, that’s the problem with the living—they always think yelling helps,” Dale said.
“Honestly, she was being pretty chill until they yelled ‘Get her!’”
“Classic rookie mistake. You never shout at a Type 2 Manifestation,” Dale explained.
“You don’t shout at anyone holding that many overdue fines.”
The three Ghostbusters scramble out of the library and down the stairs.
“That’s the most accurate part of this movie so far,” Dale said.
“What, the screaming?”
“No, the part where the living see a ghost and run. Finally, something realistic.”
“Seriously,” Steve agreed. “Sometimes you just got to make ‘em crap their pants, you know?” He elbowed Dale.
Later, the Ghostbusters explore the halls of the Sedgewick Hotel, proton packs humming,.
Ray comes face to face with Slimer eating a room service tray. “Disgusting blob…” he says.
“Whoa, that’s pretty offensive,” Steve yelled at the screen.
“Yeah, body shame much?” Dale agreed.
“You should look so good when you’re dead, Ray!” Steve jeered.
Moments later, when Venkman gets slimed, Dale and Steve bump fists.
“Ghost solidarity,” Dale says.
“Kick his ass, Slimer!”
Dale leaned back. “Finally, someone’s haunting for the little guy.”
Steve: “He’s just trying to enjoy room service in peace – relatable.”
When they bring Slimer down into the containment trap, both ghosts in the audience groaned.
“They always get the ghost in the end, don’t they?” Steve sighed.
“I mean, the movie is titled, ‘Ghostbusters.’”
Steve nodded. “Yeah, I guess they telegraphed that.” Then, “You know, I think I’d enjoy being captured.”
“What? Seriously?”
“Think about it, you’re in a little containment grid, hanging with other ghosts. No need to worry about haunting, just chilling with your pals,” Steve said.
Dale was quiet for a minute. “But I like haunting.”
“And that’s the next step – we’d organize a ghost jailbreak!”
“I want to see that movie,” Dale smiled.
An hour later, as the credits rolled, the projector light flickered against the empty rows. The faint hum of the popcorn machine filled the silence.
“Well,” Dale said, “that got a little off the rails in terms of actual ghost behavior.”
Steve grinned. “Yeah. Proton packs, containment grids, ghosts that look like boogers – none of it checks out.”
“Still,” Dale said, stretching his arms through the seat back, “it had heart. They actually liked the ghosts.”
“Eventually.” Steve reached into the bag between them, the popcorn now long cold but still somehow satisfying. “Guess that’s what I liked most. They were scared, sure—but they saw us.”
Dale smiled. “And then they ran screaming.”
“Details,” Steve said. “For two hours, we got top billing.”
The screen went dark. The old theater sighed and settled. Somewhere behind the concession stand, the popcorn machine gave one last pop.
