Who Watches the Watchmen? (Or, The Ypsilanti Horror 2: Lights Out)

Well, I tried to watch "Watchmen."

Imagine. The Comedian has been murdered, and the police have no idea who committed the crime. Rorschash's face is creepy as he investigates the matter. The Doomsday Clock is creeping ever closer to midnight, and third-term President Nixon is fully prepared to annihilate the Soviet Union. Dr. Manhattan's penis glows blue--even on Mars. And Miss Jupiter, daughter of the Silk Spectre, is also the daughter of--

The screen goes blank. There is no hum of movie screening machinery, and the dimmest version of the theater lights come up. Some of the audience members leave only to return with the news that the rest of the theater has gone dark. "Maybe we should just wait here," someone said. Fifteen minutes pass without a word from the theater staff. Thunder rumbles overhead, and we strain to listen to the aggressive patter of rain against the roof.

Finally, a staff member emerges from the darkness to say, "You can wait here, even though we don't know when the power will be back. Or you can wait in line at customer service." The line in front of that counter winds all around the darkened concession stands.

And so we run. We venture into the storm and slowly follow the dark streets. An empty police car blocked the entrance to the theater. The grocery stores, the gas stations, the restaurants--none of the lights areon. Lightning zips across the sky.

Then the power comes back. We are already back at the apartment by then, and there will be no more going out in that storm.

Now, in the sobering light of day, I wonder how "Watchmen" ends. Does that Doomsday Clock strike 12? Will Dr. Manhattan abandon us? How does Miss Jupiter wear that costume without getting a yeast infection? And why aren't any of The Comedian's jokes funny ha-ha?