Do I Sound Like I'm Ordering a Pizza?

Late last week, I came down with the nastiest flu I’ve had in a few years. Granted, it came and went in 36 hours and here I am at work feeling strangely fine, but it was still a complete pain. For one very long Friday, it cripple my ability to be productive, eat stuff, and write humorous blog posts. But I would gladly sacrifice all three of those abilities for a long weekend if I could regain the ability to get back the other thing of which I was robbed during my mini-epidemic:

See the end of Live Free or Die Hard.

You never quite know when sickness will set in, so it’s best to continue living your life until whatever flu/cold/fever/plague/gout decides to show up at the party of your life. How did I get so sick so quickly? I’m really not sure. The early prevailing theory in the clubhouse came from a poorly-cooked burger I made just prior to leaving to see a movie. (That is, this was the theory, not that the theory was given to me by a talking burger.) While this origin is unconfirmed, I didn’t think it was a cool enough reason for being bed-ridden, so I’ve largely debunked it and made up a cooler reason. If anybody asks –

A ninja sneezed on me.

Yeah, that sort of interpersonal contact isn’t one I’d prefer, but it 1) would be a logical way to inherit an illness and 2) make you all think I hang out with incredibly awesome warriors of shadow, so that’s what we’re going with. So I was hanging out with ninjas, and one happened to sneeze on me on my way to see Live Free or Die Hard.

(Not surprisingly, he also ganked my popcorn without me knowing.)

You may have noticed that I have yet to post my rating to Live Free or Die Hard in the Film Critic box over to the right. Until now, you people have no idea that I even saw the flick, let alone how I feel about Bruce Willis reprising John McClane after 13 years. I can say this much now – I really loved it.

I really loved the first hour and ten minutes. I loved how Justin Long and Willis bantered. The plotline was solid enough for me, and I thought some of the action shots were the best in years out of Hollywood. I thought Timothy Olyphant was a decent (not great) villain, and the one-liners from the trailer turned out to be a lot less groan-worthy once re-inserted into the dialogue. The first hour and ten minutes were worth the price of admission.

What about the rest, Condon?

Well friends, I couldn’t tell you how it ends (nor do I want you to tell me in the comments.) I left the theater prematurely thanks to my newfound friend, Influenza. I exited stage right after some dummy’s concession stand pizza sent me reeling, and I trudged home completely depressed that my stomach was not going to hold out for well, more stuff that blows up. So now I sit here having spent 9.25 on two thirds of a solid action flick longing for the rest.

Damn it.

However, it would have needed to be equal or better to the original Die Hard to make me buy another ticket, so now I’m stuck waiting until Netflix can deliver me my sorely-needed movie ending sometime around Thanksgiving. Or am I?

I’ve spent the weekend brainstorming the following ways in which I can convince the good folks at the movie theatre to let me in without paying. I appreciate any inputs or votes you may have in the comments.

1. Ask nicely. Use “Puss in Boots” sad eyes.
2. Sneak in. Use something shiny as a diversion.
3. Buy a ticket to a shorter movie (1408) and catch the ending afterwards.
4. Threaten to run around the lobby like a lunatic yelling out the endings to every other movie unless they let me in.