Night at the Museum, read all about it.

I had to babysit my younger brother and sister today. I had to bring them to the cinema because they wanted to watch Night at The Museum 2 so badly or else they'll weep, sob, stomp, whine, weep, sob, stomp and shit. My parents weren't available due to their other responsibilities in life, and as I was the 3rd oldest in the household - supposedly maturity comes with age - next to my parents, I was given the honour.

We went to the cinema, just the three of us.

I have never been to a cinema without adult supervision, unless I'm with my friends. Because then I don't have to be the one talking at the ticket counter, asking for tickets. I've never done that in my whole life. And today, I had to do it, with no guidance, no practice. *wheeze*

Being in Brunei, going to movies seems to be an integral part of a teenager's social life because we barely have anything else here, and seeing as I have little to no experience in that, can you calculate the amount of social life I have?

Okay, it wasn't that bad. I went through with it. We went in. Found our seats. Sat down. Watched movie. Ate popcorn. Drank Coca Cola. Finished movie. Went home.

By the way, I went home $8 richer. At least it all ended gooood.

Anyway, Night at the Museum 2 is okay. I've never had the chance to watch the first part, but since the sequel's storyline isn't related to the first one, other than the characters, it's okay. It got me thinking though. If this was not a family adventure comedy, I wonder what genre it would have gone into?

Psychological thriller?

Probably some reference to agalmatophilia? (For some of you who are too lazy to search what it means, Wiki defines it as attraction to dolls/statues/mannequins)

Larry Daley kissed a frickin' mannequin. (when she came alive, of course, but the fact that she's not exactly ALIVE is pretty disturbing). And well, hey. He also talks and made friends with the rest of the mannequins.

Here's my twisted, darker version of the movie. And it's just that one night in the museum anymore. It's got some cliches in it, and please, forgive my tenses. I jump between past and present since primary school English class, and I haven't changed since.

After thinking that he got used to having the museum exhibits come to live, he hangs out alot with them. Even accidentally talking to them in the day, but the rest would just brush it off. He would talk to them every night, have fun with Miss. Mannequin together with the rest until dawn breaks. One morning, the boss finds out that the night guard is sleeping with the museum exhibits, cuddling with a mannequin. Larry would then explain to no avail. He'll get fired. He'll go insane. Then he'll be sent to a sanitorium. After some time, he will figure a way to escape because he can't help but miss his darling mannequin. He will then steal (kidnap?) her and run away together.

In an abandoned cabin deep inside the woods, he'll love her, worship her, hoping for her to come back alive. But by then, as she is not in any way near the Egyptian tablet which brings the exhibits alive, she will remain as a mannequin. He will go even crazier, calling her a liar, screaming at her, but she can not react. For breaking his heart, he will break her into pieces. Her head, however, remained intact. He will soon realise this, and brings the head near him, sobbing, apologising. He cleans the head, keeping it close to him at all times, trying to redeem his sins. He starts getting worse.

He sees blood oozing out from every part of the broken pieces. Too guilty to remove them, he just whimpers in the corner, holding on the head, apologising again and again. The owner of the cabin, a hunter, arrives to see that the door lock was damaged. He entered cautiously with his rifle. He sees the whimpering man who by then threw the head at him, and exclaims, "I killed her! I killed her!" The hunter, surprised by the head, backed off and rushed out to get his phone to call the police, thinking a real murder had happened. Caught offguard, his rifle was snatched away and Larry proceeds to shoot the head multiple times.

"STOP TALKING! STOP TALKING!"

Authorities came, and Larry will once again greet the white cushioned walls, wearing the safe straitjacket that had his name stitched into it, as he insists that he needs to get the voices out of his mind by scratching and clawing his head.

"Welcome back home, Larry," says an orderly who happened to be passing by.




Damn, a psychological drama movie with amalgatophilia would sound so cool.