Nine Minors Trapped in Shaft

ine Florida teens were trapped in a St. Petersburg dollar theater Sunday after local hooligans wedged numerous pennies between the theater doors and doorframe, theater officials said. Pounding noises and loud complaining from inside the theater indicated at least some were alive as theater employees wandered around and stared at the ceiling in a vague attempt to rescue them.

The pounding and cries of “What the fuck, man?� created “a glimmer of hope� that the teens, who had paid $1.75 each to see the disappointing 2000 Samuel L. Jackson vehicle Shaft Sunday afternoon, were safe, said Betsy Mulroony, a spokeswoman for Gulf Coast Cinema.

“It is a race against time because the movie is still playing in there,� she said. “The last thing we want is for these kids to have to sit through the film’s gratuitously violent, unsatisfying finale. We’re doing everything we can to get those doors open.�

Theater employee Jared Wenham first realized that something was not right when he walked by the theater doors at around 3:30 p.m. and heard a loud pounding noise. Jared attempted unsuccessfully to open the doors, then brought the problem to the attention of his supervisor, Dickie Nelson. Nelson recalled hearing the pounding upon passing the theater doors minutes earlier, but had assumed the noises were part of the film’s THX soundtrack. “Like I’ve seen fucking Shaft,� Nelson explained, obviously annoyed by the implication.

Nelson pounded a tentative “shave and a haircut� on the theater door, and when the answering knock came back “two bits,� his worst fears were confirmed. Nelson went outside for a smoke break, then came back inside fifteen minutes later to begin coordinating the rescue efforts.

The theater’s three employees proceeded to work in shifts to free the teens, alternately tugging at the door handles and putting their weight into trying to push the doors open, as no one could recall whether the doors swung in or out. While one employee worked on the doors, the other two stood nearby to shout encouragement and tactical advice such as “lefty loosey, righty tighty,� that was of little practical value.

After twenty minutes of concentrated rescue efforts, the theater employees were taking a hard-earned Icee break when approached by local teen Brandon McFie, who told a harrowing tale made even more chilling by the theater’s overzealous air conditioning system and the freshly squeezed Icees. McFie explained that he had been one of the nine teens trapped inside the theater, but he had managed to escape after noticing the lighted exit signs to the left and the right of the screen, which indicated doors leading to the theater’s parking lot.

Theater employees raced against time to relay this new information through the jammed doors to the teens still trapped inside, but their task was made nearly impossible by the film’s pounding soundtrack and frequent gun battles. Morse Code was suggested as an ideal solution, but was then scrapped when minutes later it was discovered that “S.O.S.� was the only message the on-hand personnel knew how to signal, and this wasn’t especially useful given the situation. Workers resorted to old-fashioned yelling and eventually succeeded in conveying the news.

The eight remaining teens emerged from the dark theater to the scattered ironic applause of theater employees and derisive comments from a topless man wearing jogging shorts in the parking lot.

“I thought we’d never get out of there, yo,� said 16 year-old Ricky Niebolt of their 80-minute ordeal. “I had to piss like a racecar.�

“Man, I wasn’t even here to see a movie,� insisted acne-scarred Chad Runion of Brooksville. “Especially not this Shaft bullshit. I was on my way over to knock up some little 15 year-old slut or some shit, you know? Gettin’ my thang on, ba-bang. I just came up in here cuz I thought it was a condom store. Yeah. Not like I use the things though.�

Though the teens all escaped the theater unharmed, authorities are looking at suspects in the theater door penny-jamming, and are investigating Gulf Coast Cinemas for taking advantage of the poorly informed and suicidally bored by charging admission to see two year-old movies that are readily available on cable and as gas station rentals.

Observers site the incident as the worst movie theater mishap since dozens of people were extremely bored during a screening of Gremlins 2: The New Batch in New York in 1990, when theater employees thoughtlessly left several large trash bins in front of the exit doors.

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So it's no surprise, everybody's been talking about the same thing for two weeks now: My dad broke out of jail. It's high time I gave everybody the facts to stop these vicious rumors.

Okay, for one, yes, he broke out, but my mom had already posted the bail just before the breakout occurred, so technically he shouldn't even be wanted at this point. You can't tell me five minutes makes a difference between him being legally bonded and on the run from the law. The police tell me that, but we both know the real deal.

And two, that guy dropped his gun so that charge of stealing an officer's weapon is complete bullshit. If I dropped a pencil and you picked it up, you didn't steal it, did you? Right, it's finders-keepers law, and everybody knows it. That cop is just embarrassed because he couldn't hang onto his gun when dad pushed him.

Third, and this is the big one for me, my mom dropped the charges against him. Technically, shouldn't that start some kind of Back to the Future time unraveling deal where dad never went to jail because the charges never existed? So all these surplus charges shouldn't be there either. I saw It's a Wonderful Life enough times to know that chain reaction shit.

It's all that dildo Freddie Mercury's fault. Not the singer from Queen Freddie Mercury, I think he's dead, but that jackass wanna-be pimp friend of dad's Freddie Mercury. That guy just seems to come out of the woodwork whenever my dad's in a spot and he's always trouble. Dad was perfectly willing to wait the extra day until he made bail, then that Freddie Mercury started talking up all this crap about being outlaws. So one thing leads to another, Freddie Mercury rips the door off the cell with his A.T.V., and now the two of them are on the run to Tijuana. Dad doesn't even speak Spanish so it's particularly stupid.

Sure, the cops will catch him, and he'll probably get a lawyer who can plea-bargain him down to pushing a cop with extreme prejudice, but it just pisses me off. Stuff about my dad keeps coming over the wire and all the commune staffers give me shit about it. "Hey, Clarissa, that white guy with the fade, he looks kind of like you." Yeah, I know that, Ramon. He's even got the same last name, you prick, you're just rubbing it in.

The end result is that I can't watch America's Most Wanted, Cops, or any of my other favorite shows until he's back in custody 'cause it's too embarrassing. We already recognize my Uncle Luke on an episode at least once a year, no way I need to add to that humiliation.

At least Fox News and the 24-hour stations are all busy reporting on this Iran stuff. The last thing I need is for those news dorks to interrupt Headline News to show another police chase involving my dad and Freddie Mercury. These bloodsuckers at the commune never fail to drag that one out of the closet and reminisce every time someone's had a few beers. "Hey, remember that time Clarissa's dad and that guy in the jumpsuit stole that 7-Up truck?" Yeah, everyone remembers, Ramon, just let it be.

If dad does make it to Mexico at least it won't be on the news, since no one here cares what happens in Mexico. The down side to that is that mom will continue living with me and driving me crazy until who knows when. It seems like no matter what I do, I'm screwed. But if you do see my dad, please report him to the local police. Just tell the press it's Carlos Nootles.

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You remember back when that hillbilly president was accused of poking the office help? In the end he never admitted he got his jolly roger vacuum-cleaned, but he did admit to an "inappropriate relationship" with the lady. That's classy, man. Never say the fuck word. Oops, I mean F-word. I'd like to have an inappropriate relationship with a guy like that.

Not that I haven't had my share of inappropriate relationships. I've been saying it that way ever since I heard it, because I, too, am a class act. So here's a quick list of some inappropriate relationships.

A lot of smarmy journalists and water cooler gossipers always insinuate I had some kind of inappropriate relationship with the actor who played my father on Who's Your Daddy?, Brad Van Danner. That is entirely sick, people, he was in his 40s and I was only 8 or 9 at the time. It's also grossly inaccurate as the inappropriate relationship was with Chip Fleckner, who played my brother Chip. What a dumb dildo that guy was, they had to name the character the same name so he'd respond when you talked to him! Still, I was young and impetuous and he looked and smelled like that Huckleberry Pie doll.

It's legendary among the non-famous that actresses sleep their way to the top, and then back to the bottom, but I've never lowered myself to that, I'll say on record now. I have never slept with anybody, casting director, director, producer, actor, or anybody for a job that I wasn't going to get anyway, and I've made it implicitly clear before we go to town.

Around 1993 that alternative band Flat Chest had a moderate hit with that song of theirs, "Clarissa Coleman Gone Crazy." A lot of people think I had some kind of inappropriate relationship with the lead singer Dill Warner, but I assure you, he had a girlfriend and we weren't an item, even though it's obvious his girlfriend was a big lesbian and totally giving me a look, and I tried to tell him that. It probably adds to the confusion that I had an inappropriate relationship with the drummer of that band twice before he went on stage at Woodstock '94, though I assure you I thought he was the lead guitarist.

When I was on "Teen Stars Week" of Jeopardy, rumors abounded about me and Alex Trebek. Come on, people, he's like a hundred and I was a teen-ager at the time. Plus, he doesn't actually meet any of the stars until he's on set and has thick security around his dressing room. You'd think he's the president. Ooo, I'm Alex Trebek, I'm so smart and I know everything. Everybody knows you've got the cards with the answers on them right there, Alex, you're not the king of information about imports and exports of Mexico.

There was a year I was on the Conan O'Brien show regularly as a guest. I wasn't the "sit down" variety of guest, just the "walk on and eat Corn Flakes" variety of guest, I'm not sure what was so funny about it, Conan and the guys just get a kick out of seeing me eat Corn Flakes I suppose, and the audience loved it. Without saying too much, I wouldn't have minded having an inappropriate relationship with Conan, or maybe that delicious Max Weinberg. Andy Richter was pretty sexy, too, I like funny guys. I suppose I wouldn't have totally shot down that puppet dog that smokes cigars either, I wonder what the guy who does the puppet looks like. Anyway, I had a few inappropriate relationships there, but it was mostly with guys I thought worked for the show and turned out to be big fat liars.

Like the ex-hillbilly president, I'm not proud of my inappropriate relationships. Well, some of them, especially that one with the famous CNN guy who said he'd sue if I ever mentioned his name. They're all in the past anyway. Unless Conan O'Brien or Flat Chest's Dill Warner call me up again. Yeah, I'll play hard to get—like cold sores are hard to get!

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