Gusty Blusts

and other stories The Weird and Wonderful World of "J"
Approx 516 words | Read time approx 2 - 4 mins

When umbrellas go bad

Popcorn and pop

Acrobatic umbrellas, low flying coats and the stealth bombing of an unsuspecting cinema audience . . .

I’D ONLY just removed my wet coat and put it over the empty seat to my left along with my equally wet umbrella . . . when it happened . . .

Although, in my defence I didn’t know the seat wouldn’t take too kindly to the offloading of wetness and return to its upright position, despatching the offending articles in the process.

In a fraction of a second both my wet coat and umbrella were catapulted skywards, out of their seat and into the dark, vast expanse of the auditorium. Somehow the coat managed to unfold itself as it flew backwards through the air, while liberally dispensing freezing cold rainwater over an audience that had paid good money to get out of the rain.

Then, arms outstretched, as if adopting an almost human like kite form, it performed what can perhaps only be described as an aerial raid, as it proceeded to empty out its pockets over those unfortunate enough to be under its flight path.

Given the cries of alarm, it seemed its unsuspecting victims hadn’t quite expected a trip to the cinema to include an assault by flying keys, soiled tissues and bouncing chocolate Minstrels.

It was kind of inevitable the coat was going to have to land sometime. And it did, by quite literally just dropping out of the darkness and onto on an unfortunate family some three rows behind. Their involuntary cries of horror muffled as they were unexpectedly engulfed by a cold, heavy blanket of soggy leather.

Yet the cold, clammy coat paled into insignificance compared to the fallout from the flight of the umbrella. Which, like the coat had also been launched like a projectile, hurtling through the darkness and toward the rear of the auditorium.

Where, bizarrely, as if sensing its inevitable descent, it had opened itself up and jettisoned its shaft into the laps of an unimpressed middle-aged couple below.

The umbrella top, as if oblivious to the chaos in its wake, continued its unmanned malevolent mission, before parachuting out of the darkness onto an oblivious kissing couple on the back row. Where deflating on impact, it engulfed their heads like a collapsed tent and showered them in a deluge of icy cold rain water.

On one hand I just wanted to burst out laughing, but on the other, I just wished my seat would swallow me whole, only do it very quickly. Although my companion seemed to have no such concerns – his body parts were already convulsed in the involuntary throes of silent laughter, as tears streamed down his face. So much so that it prompted an elderly usherette who, clearly having mistaken his spasmodic jerking for a seizure, to enquire whether he was in fact in need of urgent medical attention.

I wouldn’t mind but he wasn’t the one who had to risk life and limb to go retrieve their house keys . . .

© 2017 Gustyblusts.com. All Rights Reserved.

comments Leave a comment  |  read similar posts Read similar  |  share this post Share
Share!
  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • email
  • StumbleUpon
  • Delicious
  • Google Reader
  • LinkedIn
  • BlinkList
  • Digg
  • Google Bookmarks
  • Reddit
  • Tumblr


Like this? Try these:

3 Responses to “When umbrellas go bad”

  1. 1
    scripto says:

    OMG! How embarrassing!!! Did you get your stuff back? I’d have died – lol!

  2. 2
    J says:

    Yes I did, although it did involve crawling around between the seats to avoid detection. I would’ve left the offending brolly but it was still throwing it down outside. And no, my mate was absolutely no help whatsoever – yes, you know who you are!

  3. 3
    F says:

    I still laugh the same way and often have people racing to my aid with portable rechargable defibrilaters so far only shocked once and all it did was destroy the nokia flip phone i had in my jacket pocket…… they didnt read the instructions and just stuck the paddles anywhere!

© 2017 Gusty Blusts All Rights Reserved | Entries (RSS) and Comments (RSS)