Movie Night

Pssssshhhhh…

Went the screen, fizzling static from a finished video tape. The whole of Alan and Tin Tin’s quiet room in the mansion was littered with emptied popcorn buckets, spilled drinks cups and half eaten chocolate bars.

Alan and Tin Tin lay head to head on the sofa, dizzy with full bellies from chowing down while watching a Disney movie on VHS, mainly Beauty & The Beast. As for me, young and naive at the age of six, I was sitting by Tin Tin’s smooth, silky feet, playing with her toes. Tin Tin didn’t flinch, but of course I did see her smile as if she hadn’t had any sleep last night.

Her eyes were completely black underneath, and bloodshot, and her head was hurting.

“Ouch…” she whimpered.

“Sorry, mama,” I whispered.

“It’s not your fault, kiddo, mama’s hungover right now.” reminded Alan.

“Is she drunk?” I asked, “Because it doesn’t look like she’s made of glass.”

“Her blood isn’t made of beer. We ordered a cinema takeaway and a McDonald’s and just watched Beauty & The Beast together. Now watch this, kiddo, and try not to cheer when she recovers. It may take a while.”

Alan wobbled all the way to the kitchen, his eyes and head still aching from his movie night. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was 4 o'clock in the morning.

“Oh my god…” he went as he searched through the first aid drawer. I could hear scrabbling and clunking and clunking and scrabbling, and the occasional hiccup, but then I heard him go:

“A-ha!” before vomiting. That meant he had found the paracetamol.

He then filled a small mug covered with grapes and bananas with fresh, cool milk from a red carton, and went back to Tin Tin, being careful not to spill any on the neat fluffy red carpet.

I watched as Alan gently opened Tin Tin’s mouth and whispered softly:

“Open wide, darling, and say Aaaah.”

“Aaaaaah,” went Tin Tin softly, as if she were a toddler on her first dentist’s visit. Alan poured the milk into Tin Tin’s mouth, causing a mess which dribbled onto the floor. Alan took out a tissue from the side table and cleaned up her face gently, which was still bulging containing milk.

How funny did Tin Tin look? I just had to giggle. Alan gently helped her up onto her tender, pyjama-clad bottom as she gently placed one, then another paracetamol into her milk filled mouth. One by one, she swallowed them.

“You feel any better, honey?” asked Alan, tickling her under her chin.

“Actually,” coughed Tin Tin, trying to regain consciousness, “You’d look wonderful to me - even if I was dripping with milk.”

And guess what happened next?

Alan and Tin Tin kissed - tender, loving, the taste of milk in Tin Tin’s mouth passing onto Alan’s mouth, which was still plagued with morning breath.

I felt tired too, so I clung my arms round Tin Tin’s waist and hugged her, feeling awfully happy she was recovering little by little.

And then, as if our memories had been wiped, we both snuggled down fast asleep together, a filling in between two slices of bread that is me between Alan and Tin Tin, as we fell fast asleep, sighing contentedly.