An open letter to the human who spoiled the ending of the Paddington
Bear movie:
Did you ever hear about the guy who rented a van with a
loudspeaker to drive around town, broadcasting the ending to The Usual Suspects the day it opened in
theaters?
No? That’s because I ate him.
What about the jerk who plastered a banner on a major
highway overpass, spoiling the ending of Harry
Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, the day it was released?
Oh, you’ve heard of him? I ate him, too. Just didn’t beat
the press to the scene.
Did I ever tell you the story about how my uncle ruined the
ending to The Sixth Sense before my
mother could see it?
She ate him.
Then, in the process of telling me the story, she spoiled
the ending for me.
Now you know why I don’t talk about my mother; I ate her. I
don’t recommend bear meat, by the way. Too grizzly.
So, about Paddington. You say I should have read the book
already, that it’s on me that I don’t know how the story of Paddington ends? To
that I say: GRAAAAWR. I am a well-read bear (you don’t get to be a judge
without reading a few books, let me tell you). Perhaps, perhaps, when everyone
was out reading Paddington the Bear,
I was holed up at home, up to my teeth in law books.
Now, I want to see the movie, dammit. The fact that I didn’t
read the book doesn’t give me less of a right to watch the movie, or enjoy the
intricate twists and turns of Paddington as he adventures in England. But
you’ve ruined the experience for me before I can so much as log in to Fandango.
I have just one question left for you. Do you think you’ll
taste better à la tartare or au poivre?