Savannah waved, blew Jacquelynn a kiss and said, “Goodnight doll.”
Mort won’t be standing anytime soon.
“Night,” Jacquelynn said with a smile as she retreated to her bedroom.
To Mort and his boner, Savannah said, “Looks like it's just me and you now.”
Mort whipped out his dong and Savannah pounced on it like a homeless mutt on a steak. No wait, that was just his imagination. All Mort managed to do was smile nervously while he clenched his dick muscles as hard as possible to keep all the semen inside, because brother, it was knockin’!
Jacquelynn opened the door to the dark room and stepped inside. She felt along the wall, looking for a switch. When she found it, she flicked it on. POW! The light bulb with gunpowder exploded in its socket, causing Jacquelynn to scream!
Savannah and Mort quickly stood, Mort completely forgetting about his boner. Luckily for him, it’s not very noticeable.
Perhaps unluckily for him, on second thought.
He yelled, “What the hell was that? Jackson?!”
From the bedroom, they heard, “I'm okay.”
Mort and Savannah ran to her side. “What happened?” Savannah said, putting her hand on Jacquelynn’s back.
“The light bulb just exploded. Scared the bejesus out of me.”
Mort blew out a deep breath. “Us, too! Jesus.”
“Want me and Mort to go look for a new light bulb?”
“It's okay. I can go find one. There's a storeroom. There has to be one there. If not, the shed right outside. Wouldn't ya think?”
“You sure?” Mort said, legs crossed at the ankle.
“Yeah,” Jacquelynn smiled, “I just need a minute to get my heart to start working again.”
“Us too!” Savannah said, rubbing Jacquelynn’s back now. Mort would need to sit down, or grab a pillow, or run to the bathroom…soon!
Watching from upstairs, and happy that his sweet light bulb gag worked perfectly, Carl had Andie’s body flung over his shoulder. One of them would have to be leaving soon to hunt for a light bulb. He just hoped it was one of them and not all of them, because one person at a time is a lot less stressful than three.
He watched as the fat bastard and the British twat returned to the sofa, and the cute nerdy girl headed in the opposite direction towards the storeroom.
Jacquelynn walked down the hallway and passed the bathroom where the water was still running. This struck her as a bit odd, so she knocked on the door. “You okay in there, Sarah?”
Not expecting an answer, she shrugged then quickly moved on into the living room. Girls sometimes take forever in the shower so the more she thought of it, the less is seemed odd.
The female body is a lot of upkeep. God forbid a guy find a hair on you somewhere. Jacquelynn giggled while thinking that Sarah must’ve been one hairy bitch. She tried a Chewbacca growl but it sounded so awful she looked around to make sure no one heard her.
Savannah and Mort giggled. They heard. Jacquelynn’s face turned bright red and she picked up her pace. “Just uh, clearing my throat. Off to find a light bulb, wish me luck!”
“Good luck.”
“Good luck.”
“If I'm not back in a few minutes, just assume Carl and Crazy Eddie got me and call for help.”
Mort held up his useless phone, which he was still carrying around for some reason, and reminded Jacquelynn, “No signal, remember?”
Savannah smiled, raised her hand like a student with the right answer, and said, “Don't worry. We'll bike to my house and call from there. We’ll save ourselves if you just keep him occupied long enough.
This made Jacquelynn laugh. “K thanks.”
With Savannah and Mort's backs to the stairs, Carl hauled the electrocuted body of Andie down the stairs and into the downstairs bedroom. Fatso and Limey were completely oblivious.
Teenagers.
“Well,” Savannah said to Mort, “me and you again. Impress me.”
Mort, without missing a beat, proudly proclaimed, “I'm writing a novel...”
“Nope, that's not gonna do it.”
She could not have been less impressed, especially since this news was already shared with her at the general store.
Her lack of enthusiasm was probably due to the fact that every asshole with a keyboard had a novel these days, and ya know what? They all fucking sucked. Self-publishing had ruined the profession because of all the crappy books with all those typose and run on sentences that just ramble on and they don’t even know no good grammar neither and I like turtles!
Mort would have to try harder to impress.
Carl entered the darkened room, pulled back the sheets on the bed and placed Andie’s bloodless corpse down on the mattress. He took out a knife from his belt and stabbed her repeatedly, then pressed on her chest to get the blood to flow from the wounds. He covered her body with the sheets, making sure they saturated the way he wanted, then he placed the large comforter on top, hiding everything. When finished, he backed into the closet and slid the door shut, waiting, giddy with anticipation.
Jimmy, Breanna and Jessica bobbed up and down in the lake, having fun, despite the water being about twenty degrees colder than Jimmy had hoped for. Cold water and dicks did not mix well, but it was dark enough that he could pump it up a bit by hand, under the water, and no one would be the wiser. While he was doing this, he said, “Man, those other assholes don't know what they're missing.”
“Yeah,” Jessica said, bouncing up from the surface, exposing her boobies briefly to Jimmy, “this was a pretty good idea if I do say so myself.”
“Yeah,” Breanna said, jumping off the dock and landing directly in between them. She swam to Jimmy and wrapped her arms around his neck and began kissing him.
Holy shit, Jimmy thought! Won’t need this hand action anymore!
Holy shit!
Holy shit!
In an act of pure avarice, Jimmy reached out for Jessica and pulled her in to the action. Breanna wrapped her legs around Jimmy's waist and his vision went a little blotchy.
Breanna yelped, screamed, “Oh my god!” then started laughing hysterically. “I think a tadpole just swam up my hoo-haw!”
“What,” Jessica yelled with a look of pure joy on her face.
“A fucking tadpole or baby fish just swam up my hoo-haw!”
Both girls were laughing now but Jimmy was trying desperately to hide his embarrassment. That was no tadpole.
“Um,” he said sheepishly. “Yeah, probably. Yeah, a fish. Crazy little fish!”
He tried to laugh, but it was the saddest laugh in the world.
“Park down the road here,” Phil yelled at his poor, underpaid driver. “You guys gather up the cameras and we’ll walk from here.”
The crew didn’t seem too thrilled, but they’re all used to being treated like shit from the egotistical talk-show host.
Phil threw open the van’s door and stepped out into the mud. “Oh, would you look at that! Mud!”
“Well,” Annie said, stepping out into the same mud in her equally expensive shoes, but acting like much less of a bitch than her boss, “that’s what happens to dirt when it rains.”
Ignoring her completely, Phil stepped out into the road and gazed upon the Camp McClane sign. “Are you ready to make history tonight?”
Annie would have answered the question, but she knew damn well he was asking the question to himself. She remained quiet.
The two-person crew and the driver loaded up the cameras and boom mics and joined their boss in the middle of the road.
“Follow me, boys!”
Annie, along with both crewmembers, were women. They all shared a glance, then shrugged it off.
If Carl were in his fort, he would have heard the proximity alarm going off.
Savannah and Mort were still sitting in the living room. Jacquelynn had not returned from finding a light bulb yet, but neither of them noticed. Or cared. Mort was way too busy droppin’ some knowledge, spittin’ some
game!
“...And the big one is called the Slammer. You see, you throw that one down on all the smaller ones that you stacked and try to see how many you can flip over...then you win those...You don't remember these? They were pretty big in the 90s, I hear.”
Savannah puffed her cheeks up to near capacity then blew the air out with a loud huff, “I'm gonna be honest with you here...I really don't care about Pocks or whatever they're called...”
“Pogs.”
“Yeah, don’t really give a shit. I'm drunk, stoned and pretty horny. Can you just find a bed and lie down on it. I'll do all the work.”
Mort’s facial muscles lost all control resulting in some odd fast-forward of stupid expressions, before he finally absorbed the information and hopped to his feet.
“Oh...Oh man...Oh my god...This is happening!”
Mort quickly stood and looked around frantically like a soldier checking for wounds after being shot at several times. “What, uh, what, uh, what, what uh, room is open?!”
Savannah unenthusiastically pointed to the upstairs bedroom on the far north corner of the house, the one directly above Jacquelynn’s and at the opposite end of the hall as Andie and Dave’s. “That one.”
Mort took off running up the stairs as fast as his portly little ass could. At the top, he hung a quick right, oblivious to the pool of blood just to his left and the wet footprints. Savannah bounded up the stairs close behind.
Mort kicked open the door like he was the damn po’lice and they both stumbled in. Savannah took charge and began undoing Mort's belt. She didn’t notice his boner.
Downstairs, Jacquelynn returned from the storeroom proudly carrying a new light bulb. “Got it...Guys?”
She rolled her eyes then walked towards her room, just as Savannah pulled Mort's pants down roughly.
“Do you need me to get it started for you?” she asked him.
Mort, trying desperately to sound calm and in control, yelled, “Yes...Yes please. Dear god yes please!”
Jacquelynn entered her darkened room and dragged a small chair under the light socket. From above her, a loud thud with so much impact her light fixture swung slightly. “No way,” she mumbled to herself as she unscrewed the completely blown-out light bulb. “Holy crap, this thing just exploded.” She changed the light then flipped the switch. It worked. “Hooray. What the…”
She noticed the lump under the covers of her bed and walked slowly to investigate. In the background, Carl quietly opened the closet door and sneaked out, positioning himself for the scare. The maximum scare!
Feeling as though she was in a real-life horror flick, Jacquelynn's arm slowly extended, eventually grasping the edge of the covers. In one strong pull, she ripped the covers back and discovered… Andie’s body! She screamed loudly and took two unsteady steps backwards, bumping into Carl. She turned around. Standing mere inches from him, she began to scream again! Carl quickly reached up, put his fist into her mouth and ripped off the bottom half of her jaw. A few teeth fell out from her top row. Her tongue dangled as she stood there, her body too in shock to do anything else.
Carl felt pretty good about this one. The longer she was alive, the more scared she was, so that outta make the boss happy.
Carl couldn’t resist reaching out and touching her dangling tongue; it just looked so goddamn neat. He flicked it back and forth a few times before she finally hit the deck, her body twitching like a pedophile just busted by Chris Hanson.
Savannah and Mort were startled by the scream. Without thinking, Mort waddled out, pants still around his ankles, into the hallway, four-inches of blood-stuffed flesh leading the way.
Carl walked out of the bedroom, realizing he was still clutching Jacquelynn's lower jaw. He looked up just as Mort leaned over the railing.
“Holy fuck!” Mort and his boner yelled.
Carl threw Jacquelynn's jaw, hard, straight up at Mort, hitting him square in the face, sending the rest of Jacquelynn's teeth scattering on impact and easily breaking Mort's nose. He stumbled and fell forward over the railing, landing with another loud, squishy thud, just by Carl's feet. Savannah saw this and began screaming. Carl ignored her and left through the storage room door.
He stepped out into the night and quickly ran to the front of the house and looked up. Hanging above the door was a bound and gagged, but very much alive, Sarah, perched atop a six-inch vertical piece of wood from the cabin. Around her neck was the extension cord. The other end of the cord was attached to a makeshift hook. Carl grabbed the cord and waited for Savannah to make her exit. As soon as the front door opened Carl pulled the cord, lifting Sarah by her neck off her perch, and then dropped her. Just as Savannah took her first step out, Sarah fell; the sound of her neck snapping seemed to echo in the woods. Savannah screamed and retreated back inside with the swiftness of a woman being sexually harassed by an old Asian man with one long fingernail. Carl tied the cord off, leaving Sarah's body dangling.
Carl ran, which he usually didn’t like doing, but sometimes it was just easier, and grabbed the body of James and dragged it to the back door. He dumped it on the doorstep just before Savannah came bursting out, tripping over the corpse and going face first into the mud.
Carl breathed a sigh of relief.
Jimmy, Breanna and Jessica walked up the trail towards the house; each dressed, but still wet. They reached the darkened path and suddenly, without warning and in the middle of a nonsensical sentence, Jessica fell face first… over Stuart's body. Jimmy laughed at first because he’s just that type of fella, until he saw what caused the fall. Holy shit! Everyone screamed, Jimmy’s being the loudest and most bitch-like, and ran towards the main cabin.
Savannah pulled her face from the mud. The first thing she saw were the boots of Carl standing over her. He raised his right foot and placed it on the back of her head.
Savannah pleaded, just as Carl knew she would. Just like they all do.
“No. No please. No!”
He pushed her face down in the mud, putting all his weight on it. Expecting her to eventually drown, he was startled when her skull cracked open and his boot sunk into her brain. He shrugged. Whatever, man. Either way. In the distance, he heard screaming.
Breanna, Jimmy and Jessica were close to the cabin, still moving faster than a white person lost in Compton.
Carl left Savannah in the mud and ran towards the generator. He grabbed his razor whip and the net gun and took off into the darkness.
Breanna, Jimmy, and Jessica reached the cabin and saw poor Sarah dangling from the cord, her facial expression pretty much the same as it was when she was alive. The girls began their screamfest again while Jimmy was in disbelief and well, may have pissed himself. Him and his soggy underpants tried to save some shred of manhood by attempting to calm the girls down. Eventually, and as much to the surprise of Jimmy as anyone else, their cries turned silent. They must not have noticed the piss dripping down his leg, something to which Jimmy was quite happy about, especially since the tadpole comment from a half hour ago and the whole, uh, premature ejaculation thing resulting in Breanna not even being aware she had just been impregnated. They stood there, paralyzed, not crying, but breathing so heavily they were lightheaded.
Jimmy finally muttered, “It's Carl.”
“We've got to get the keys to the van,” Jessica said, looking around in a panic. She was just about to say something else but was cut off.
Bursting from the darkness, without warning, the razor wire cracked and wrapped itself snuggly around Breanna's face. With one quick tug by Carl, Breanna's face was cut to the skull. As Carl pulled the whip back, the top of her face rotated slightly, like twisting open a plastic Easter egg, causing her nose to no longer be in line with her mouth. Jimmy screamed like a bitch again and took off running, leaving Jessica behind.
Carl appeared from the shadows aiming his homemade net gun at him. He fired and the net sprinted from its confines, wrapping itself around Jimmy like a spider catching a fly. He fell to the soft, wet,
ground.
Jessica, always thinking, took this chance to run into the house and search for the keys.
Carl walked towards Jimmy, slowly. When he reached him, he bent down and picked up the netting, dragging Jimmy towards the generator. Once there, Carl grabbed a small chainsaw he stole from a gardener’s truck six months prior, and fired it up.
Jimmy, looking up at Carl, put his hands in the air in a pathetic attempt to shield himself for what was coming. “Naw, naw, come on, man! Please! I didn't see shit, man. Let me go, I don't know jackshit! Come on, man! Be reasonable!”
Carl lowered the chainsaw slowly like he was being directed to do so as dramatically as possible, and cut through the netting. Jimmy screamed, of course. He’d been screaming so much his goddamn throat was so dry you could strike a match on it. To the confusion of both parties involved, the noise died as the chainsaw began sputtering. It was out of gas, goddamn it. It sputtered pathetically for a few more seconds before finally dying.
Carl silently cursed himself for trying to teach himself how to carve bears out of tree stumps with his newly acquired saw. He forgot all about the gas. Jimmy, however, was quite relieved.
“Ha! Fuck you, you ugly ginger fuck! Your shit doesn't work! Jacked up Ronald McDonald lookin’ mothafu-”
Jimmy had begun working his way out of the cut netting. Carl, however, flipped the chainsaw over and grabbed it by the blade. He swung the motor-end at Jimmy's face.
“Ow, shit man! That really hurt!”
Crack! Another blow, this time to Jimmy’s piss-soaked knee.
“Christ! Fine! Fine! I don’t want to live in a world where waiters drive BMWs, anyway!”
Carl tilted his head to one side and grunted a Huh?
“Ya know, waiters, with their Gimme more money, gimme more money. Like, I’m sick of tipping and shit and these assho-”
A blow to the face! Over and over. And over...until there was nothing left but mush. Carl dropped the chainsaw and moved on, eying the van that he was sure someone would try to run to, all the while thinking that Jimmy had a point. What gave waiters the right to buy such nice cars? Fuck tipping. Carl decided then and there that he hated waiters almost as much as he hated golfers. While walking to the van, he fantasied about Camp McClane opening a golf course and fancy restaurant. Now that would be fun!
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