An Open Letter

Dear Mr. Insane Man,

I hope you enjoyed our screening of The Queen this evening. I couldn't quite make out what you kept mumbling to yourself nor can I figure out why you needed to stand up for a few minutes to examine nifty objects from your pockets. My best guess is that you were using the very convenient light provided by the projector to read. Well done with that! And how very thoughtful of you to sit at the very front of the theatre so to alert everyone to your insanity. You didn't care! Those chicken shits would never approach a crazy guy like you. Oh and it was a nice touch when you asked the man two seats back if he wanted popcorn. Thanks for not asking me because I, like everyone else, was annoyed as hell but not enough to complain in fear that you might pull out a nifty gun from your pocket. But it's not my intention to write to you about what ifs, but rather to thank you. You may be insane Mr. Insane Man, but at least you didn't talk on your cellphone like the asshole behind me. So, thanks for that!

Sincerely,
Ms. Freaked-out Movie Patron