Mad Max: Fury Road Review

by Brandon

Okay, I’m going to try to get back to my old self, so I’m going to do a movie review. My reviews used to be a big part of my blogs, and they usually got the best responses from my readers. You can read some of my other reviews here.  You guys have stuck with me through all the cancer blogs, so I owe it to you to take a big step away from all the cancer posts and do a good, ol’ fashioned movie review.

So, without any further ado, here’s my review of Mad Max: Fury Road

First, let me throw out this little disclaimer: At the time I watched Mad Max: Fury Road, I was still healing up from my second big surgery, so cancer was still very much on my mind. That might have influenced this review, just a little bit.

I was still weak from the surgery, so going to a movie was tough, but I knew I’d be doing a review for you folks, so I forced myself to go. I know thousands (if not millions) of people* were waiting for my review before watching the movie, so I understood how important it was that I go see it.

On the way to the movie, I decided I wanted a Cherry Mello Yello, so we stopped at a convenience store to pick up the drink. For the record, I planned on drinking it in my car, but not in the theater. I knew that was against the theater’s policy, and I would never go against a theater’s policy!

Anyway, I walked into the store, thinking (as I usually did) about how much it sucked to have cancer. I got the drink, paid for it, and as I left, the cashier gave me a very friendly, “Have a great day!”

Yeah, I thought as I walked out of the store. That’s easy for you to say, b*tch.** You don’t have cancer.

I normally would NEVER use language like that, but I was feeling especially sorry for myself that day.

But as I got closer to the car, I started to feel guilty. I mean, how did I know she didn’t have cancer. Maybe she did. Maybe she had more cancer than me. Maybe her cancer was even meaner than mine.

No, I thought. She has her hair.

Then it hit me that some types of chemo don’t make your hair fall out. Mine didn’t cause my hair to fall out. So maybe she had some kind of cancer that didn’t require hair-losing chemo.

Besides, I thought, maybe she just got diagnosed and hasn’t started chemo yet. Or maybe she’s just undergoing radiation.

I got in the car and my wife (Laura) started to pull out when I said, “Wait.”

Laura stopped the car. “What is it?” she asked. The worry in her eyes was unmistakable.

“I need to go back in there and apologize to the cashier,” I said. “I called her a b*tch.”

“Bran,” Laura said, “Why on Earth would you say that? What did she do to deserve something like that?”

“She didn’t have cancer,” I said.

“Oh dear lord,” Laura groaned. “This is gonna’ be one of those kind of days, isn’t it.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean,” she said, “it’s gonna’ be the kind of day where you start acting like… you.”

“Would you prefer I act like someone else? You’re not making any sense, woman.”

“Tell me something,” Laura said. “Did you call her that out loud, or did you just think it again.”

“I just thought it,” I said, “but I could tell by her eyes that she knew what I was thinking.”


“NO!” I screamed. “I owe her an apology! I’ll be right back.”

Laura sighed.

“And sorry for yelling,” I added as I got out of the car and walked back into the store.

I stood in line until I was facing her again.

“Can I help ya’?” she said with a pleasant smile.

“You’re amazing,” I said. “You’re so nice, even after what I said.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Earlier, I called you a b*tch,” I said. “I came back to apologize. Believe it or not, I’m really a very passionate feminist. Calling you that was absolutely inexcusable, and I’m truly sorry. ”

She looked confused. “I really don’t understand what you’re saying,” she said.

“Earlier,” I explained. “When I was in here, I called you a b*tch, even though I didn’t know whether or not you have cancer. That was wrong, so I’m apologizing.”

“I’m sorry,” the cashier said, “but I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, I’m not going to relive it!” I said. “I apologized, not once, but twice! Sheesh, woman, what more do you want from me?”

“Okay, okay,” she said. “I’m not trying to make you mad or anything. I was just confused.”

“Now you’re just rubbing it in, aren’t you!” I said. “An apology isn’t enough for you, is it? You’re obviously not going to be satisfied until you’ve humiliated me!”

“Sir, please–”

“Please yourself, you… you… button-masher!” I snapped. “I’m done. I apologized. If that’s not enough for you, that’s your problem!”

“Okay, sir,” she said. “I accept your apology. Now, if that settles it, I’d like to help these other customers now, okay?”

“Oh, now you’re just being condescending to me,” I said. “I bet you don’t even have cancer, do you!”

“No,” she said, “Thank goodness, I don’t have cancer. Why do you–”

“I KNEW IT” I screamed. “You know what, I take back the apology! Especially since I now know you’re a not-cancer-having b*tch!”

“Sir,” she said, a hint of panic in her voice, “I really don’t understand what you’re saying. But I’m sorry if I’ve offended you in some way. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other customers to take care of.”

I took a deep breath and calmed myself down. “I’m sorry I called you a b*tch again. It’s not your fault you don’t have cancer.”

“Why would I want cancer?” she asked.

“You shouldn’t want it,” I said. “Trust me on that.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll trust you on that. You have a great day, okay? Now, I have these other customers…”

“Okay, okay,” I said. “Sorry to hold you up. I just had to clear my conscience.”

As I walked to the car, I went through the entire exchange in my head. I got in the car and immediately said, “We can’t come here again.”

“Dammit, Bran,” Laura said. “We only have four convenience stores in this town, and you’ve made it uncomfortable for us to go to two of them.”

“It’s not my fault other people don’t have cancer,” I said.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Laura said.

“Duh,” I said. “Cancer.”

“Can we watch the movie now?” Laura asked. “It’s all you’ve talked about all week.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s go watch us some Mad Max!”

After that, we watched Mad Max: Fury Road. It was pretty good.

In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have gone into convenience stores back when I was on heavy meds. I’m glad those days are over.


Further Disclaimers:

*When I said, “thousands (if not millions) of people,” I might have been exaggerating a bit.

**Just to clear up any confusion, I never called the cashier a “bitch.” I verbally censored myself, meaning I literally said, “b*tch.” I included the asterisk. The best way I can describe my actual pronunciation is, “basterisk-itch.” Thinking back, that might have been why she kept saying she didn’t understand what I was saying. As far as I know, basterisk-itch isn’t a well-known word, especially since I made it up on the spot.

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