An old man was sprawled awkwardly across three entire seats in a packed movie theater, groaning miserably and completely ignoring the crowded audience around him.
Noticing the massive space hog, an annoyed usher marched over, leaned down, and whispered sharply, “Excuse me, sir, but you are only permitted to occupy one seat. Please sit up.”
The old man didn’t move an inch. He just let out a pathetic, agonizing groan.
Losing his patience, the usher snapped, “Sir, if you don’t move right now, I’m getting the manager!” Still, the man remained stubbornly draped over the armrests. Moments later, the usher returned with the theater manager. The pair tried pleading, lecturing, and threatening the man, but the only response they received was another hollow, painful whimper.
Out of options, the manager finally called the police.
A rugged police officer arrived on the scene, shined his flashlight on the sprawled-out senior, and crouched down beside him. “Alright, buddy, let’s wrap this up,” the officer commanded. “What’s your name?”
“Fred,” the old man moaned weakly.
The officer nodded, pulling out his notepad. “Okay, Fred. And where exactly are you from?”
With a crack in his voice and without shifting a single muscle, Fred pointed a trembling finger upward and gasped:
“The balcony.”
