Reginald Barker -- Another Endless Nightshift<br/><br/>"Just give us the damn popcorn, loser; this is not that hard! What the hell, are you retarded or something?" "Jesus, he must be. He works here, doesn't he?" "Haha, yeah, man. Hey, what the hell are you looking at, asshole? We said we want popcorn, so get us our fucking popcorn!" "And some sodas too." "Think you can handle that, Captain Dipshit?"<br/><br/>Reginald felt his face burning as he scrambled behind the ticket / concession counter, filling flimsy cardboard cartons and cups with stale, butter-slimed popcorn and watered-down soda. Tonight's tormentors, a pair of high school jocks and their vapid eye candy girlfriends, were trying to run him ragged, changing their orders and demanding discounts for slow service. An elderly couple stood well back from the counter, waiting their turn to order; they watched Reggy's humiliation, clearly distressed for the young man, but remained silent. He gave them both a weak smile before he turned back to ring up the teenagers' orders.<br/><br/>"Um, that's...$47.92, guys," Reggy said, his voice even smaller than usual. The two jocks stopped laughing and high-fiving each other, and turned to look at him menacingly. Well, as menacingly as a pair of steroid-wasted, meathead goons could manage, which to Reggy was pretty goddamned menacing. He swallowed hard, but did his best not to wither under their gaze, and they stepped up their bullying.<br/><br/>"What the hell are you talking about, douchebag? We're not paying no forty-seven bucks for your shitty popcorn!" "Dude, are you fucking high? Give us our fuckin' snacks and shut the hell up!" "Tell him, Joey!" One of the girls piped up, apparently determined not to be left out of her boyfriend's amusement. Reginald's eyes flickered from the cash register display down to his shoes, grateful that at least there weren't many other customers to deal with.<br/><br/>"B-but...four j-jumbo popcorns, extra butter, four extra large sodas, a bowl of nachos, and a b-box of mints, it's...it's $47.92...if, if you don't pay...I can't..."<br/><br/>The taller goon, probably Joey, almost jumped over the counter and grabbed Reggy's collar with one hand, and screamed in his face. "I don't give a shit about what we ordered, you little shit! I told you to give us our fucking snacks, or I'm gonna beat the fucking shit out of your worthless ass! Now do as you're fucking told, you sorry little faggot!"<br/><br/>Reggy cowered behind the counter, his eyes squeezed shut, and he felt the bastard's spittle land on his cheek, hot and disgusting. His hands balled into fists again and again, clenching and unclenching, but the nerve to use them never came. Without another word, he gathered the buckets and cups and shoved them across the counter, desperate to placate the vultures and just make them leave. His head hung low as they snatched at the food like starving monkies on crack, their laughter trailing behind them as they walked away and pushed through the double doors to Screen 2.<br/><br/>His hands were still shaking when the old couple approached, and he plastered on a glaringly fake smile. "H-hi! What can I get for you this evening?" Reggy blinked away the start of a tear and hoped the old man wouldn't notice, but his wife did. THe look of pity on both their faces hurt almost as much as the bully's fist at his throat. He swallowed again and turned away from them, pretending to be cleaning the countertop. "Can I...um, can I interest you in one of the specials, maybe? Tickets are $6.75, and we've got...fresh popcorn," He said weakly, wanting nothing in the world so much as to pretend that everything was normal, just fine, of course no one had just witnessed his emotional beating.<br/><br/>"You know, son, sometimes in life, you gotta stand up for yourself. You gotta draw a line in the sand, and say, 'I'll be pushed this far, and no farther!'. Some people, they're just monsters, through and through, and if you let em they'll walk all o'er you. And if they do it to you, they might think they can do it to others. So you can't let em, son. Sometimes, you just gotta make a stand, even if it hurts, because you might be the only one who can," said the old man, his voice low and quavering. His wife nodded silently, and gave Reginald a warm, kind smile.<br/><br/>In that moment, it took every last ounce of self-control Reggy had not to break down in tears. They both seemed to understand, and gave the young man a moment to regain his composure. When he felt like he could speak again without the dam breaking, he smiled shakily. "I...I'll try, sir. Now, um...what would you like?"<br/><br/>After ripping their ticket stubs and fixing their popcorn, Reggy was slightly dumbfounded to see the old woman take out a thick roll of bills from her small purse and begin counting out much more than they owed. "Oh ma'am, your total is only $11.20, you don't --" "Yes, young man, but I'm going to cover the cost of what those hooligans stole, as well. I'm sure it will only be taken out of your pay, and that just wouldn't be right."<br/><br/>For a moment, Reg could only stare at the woman, open-mouthed, as she quietly counted out the additional cost. He tried his best to remember, but he was certain: this was the first act of kindness anyone had shown him in more than ten years. His throat tightened, and he reached out gently to touch her hand and stop her counting. "Ma'am, I...thank you. Thank you very much, but I just can't take your money. What those guys did, it's...it's my responsibility, ma'am. Please, I'll...I'll take care of it," he said, as a single tear finally managed to crash through his defenses and spill down over his smile.<br/><br/>Her husband stood behind her, hands in his pockets and a gleam in his eye, and he offered Reginald an approving nod as his wife acquiesced to the young man's decision. Reggy felt ten feet tall as the old couple walked, arm in arm, through the swinging doors of Screen 1. He took a deep breath, ignoring the stink of burnt cheese and cloying butter-grease, and smiled softly. After a few more minutes cleaning up the counters and re-ordering the inventory, Reggy locked up the concessions and the register and left the front.<br/><br/>He pushed through the small, black "Employees Only" door near the back wall and unbuttoned his red and purple vest, stuffed it into his cubby locker and withdrew the book. Or, as he had come to think of it, The Book. Ever since he'd found it in the library a few weeks before, it had been worming its way into his thoughts, like a song that he couldn't stop humming or a picture that wouldn't vacate his brain.<em><span class="bbc_u">The Book of Sorrows</span></em>, the book that countless websites and chatrooms assured him was only a myth, the book that hours upon hours of research promised him didn't exist, was only a hoax, the book that tantalized him with images of power and ideas of authority.<br/><br/>The book that he took with him upstairs, out onto the roof of the theater.<br/><br/>He wandered toward the far end of the building, his tennis shoes scuffing noiselessly on the dry concrete. The Cobb Theater marquis sign, all lit in bright neon yellows and blues except for the blackened letter 'h', shone like a beacon of tackiness on the burg of Cape Merrin. Reggy stood with his back to the sign, leaning against the rusted railing, and opened the book to the page he'd folded down the night before. If his translations had been right (and chances were iffy, but not impossible), it was a spell to grant its caster the power to control minds. Visions of the teenaged jerks becoming his mind-slaves danced before his eyes, until he shook them away. Concentration, that's what this took. He couldn't afford distractions.<br/><br/>As he read over the words once again, preparing himself mentally and re-familiarizing himself with their spoken cadence, a crash sounded from the alley below. At first, Reggy ignored the sound, expecting a cat or maybe a racoon digging through a trashcan. Then another crash jerked his attention back from the book, and he rolled his eyes in self-disgust.<br/><br/><em>'Some sorcerer I am, can't even ignore a damn cat in a garbage can to cast a spell...'</em>Reginald thought as he walked toward the rooftop corner. Peering over the edge, the light from the marquis and the street lamps was too weak to illuminate the alley. But Reggy was certain he heard something down there. Something rustling. And growling...<br/>