Morbius™️: the Living Vampire! / Termite to Tumbleweed

Even my sister’s country girlfriend showed up to see Morbius™️: the Living Vampire. We arrived only a minute before her, and as our car doors clapped shut, it was like a snuffer had been dipped over the Denver. The parking lot was hushed by a wintry, asphalt silence; the kind that only happens when the sky is as white as the snow below. The world was waiting with bated breath—I felt it shimmering in the air. Then: crash, harumph, harumph! The familiar rumpus of her Ford F-450, flattening a pile of snowplow accretion as it carved one last parking spot into the brimming lot. It was the crack of dawn, then, and the spray of slush nipped something vicious. We could only hear as she dismounted from a driver’s seat four feet off the ground—the clump of boots as she landed in the snow, the muffled steps as she poked her head around the side of the horse trailer she’d towed along. Latched to the back of the truck, it blocked about three-quarters of the oncoming lane.

“You even brought Huckabee and Oats!” my sister exclaimed as her girlfriend unlatched the trailer.

“Shucks,” she breathed, one arm thrown around my sister and the other hand tipping her confederate flag ball cap. “I wouldn’t let my babies miss the on-screen day-beeyoo of Morbius™️: a Marvel Legend.”

I nodded sagaciously, pulling my tattered trench coat tighter.

“A Marvel Legend. A Marvel Legend indeed.”

And for the record, I wouldn’t be caught dead fraternizing with the rebel-flag-ball-cap type, not even if it was Christmas—not even if it was double Christmas. But today, we douse our torches, put down our swords, cast aside our stones. Today, not rain nor shine could break the chain of hands, of hearts, of fans stretched across the nation. Today, we have something to agree on. Today, we have something to fight for. Today, Morbius™️: the Living Vampire hits theaters.

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