Pancakes are good, but only if they smile (this is my longest one yet)

I work at a movie theatre. This theater is called The Carmike 16 at the Summit. I don't have a specific job at this theatre, because I can do everything. I usually work what My fellow employees and I call "Door". This  position consists of ripping tickets and directing people towards their theaters, sweeping up popcorn on the floor, cleaning the theaters, taking out the trash, and cleaning bathrooms. Out of all these responsibilities, I have one task...to be completely awesome while doing all of them. One day I was standing at the post where I rip tickets, and these three children walk up to me. They hand me their tickets and I rip them. They were going to see Kungfu Panda 2. I told them where to go for their movie and they went on their way. A minute later, I notice them quickly walk behind me. They were headed towards The Hangover 2, which is definitely not a children's' movie. Now I know what it's like to be young and not being able to do certain things, but there are lines that I will not cross. Of the three children, the oldest one was 12. The second oldest, maybe 9. The youngest one was 7 years old. They thought they could be clever and hang around the women's restroom, which is right across from The Hangover 2, but it didn't fool me. I saw the oldest go in first; he just casually walked in like he belonged there. The second oldest one was still sitting on the bench next to the theater across from the women's restroom. I had my eyes on them the whole time. I was ripping tickets and directing customers to their movies without even looking at what theater it was. After about four minutes of sitting on the bench, the second oldest child finally finds his courage and tries to go in. He looks over at me to make sure I'm not looking, which I am, and we make eye contact. I stared at him with the fierce  intensity of a German man that swallows mountains, and his eyes go wide. He sprints into the theater to escape my icy glare, while the youngest one sits on the floor and starts to cry. I run off towards the theater to catch and punish the hooly-hoppers, and as I pass by the young child crying, I pick it up. I slowly begin to rock the child in my arms and sing it a lullaby to calm it down. When the child is lulled to sleep with my angelic voice, I take it into the nearby restroom and violently shove it into the toilet. I stomp on the flush handle with my foot and admire my awesomeness as the child spins down the bowl. The child was never seen again. Feeling accomplished with part of my mission, I go towards the door to the theater and kick it open. My eyes adjusted to the darkness of the theater, and I headed in. I saw the two children in the middle of the rows of seats. I then unhinged my jaw and opened my mouth. A vortex of anger and justice formed in my oral cavity and quickly grew. The force from the vortex pulled the children towards me, and they were sucked into my mouth. I carried them, in my mouth, out of the theater. I spat them out near the door and roared, "Don't ever come back here again, or I will kick out your teeth and use them to stab your eyes out!". The next day, the two children awoke in their beds. They each found a note nailed to their ceiling. The note read, "Dear child, If you ever speak of what happened at the theater to anyone, I will break off your arms and use them to check you for prostate cancer." Ever since, the children have eaten their vegetables.