Maniac on the loose (part deux)..A game

This is an idea stolen from Zebra. The original game was played in this thread:

The setting: A mansion overlooking a small town, where you have all been invited for a weekend party. It is of course…a dark and stormy night.

The game: Find the murderer, before he/she finds you.

Rules: As with Zebra’s game, you must be IN the house during a murder to make accusations. You may only make one accusation per round.

The murderer: One of you. I will be accepting applications for the first murder via email for the next 24 hours. I will choose the murderer by 8:30PM CST Oct 22nd. You may only murder people who show up in the thread, and you must be creative about it. Clues to tell us who you are should be included. I will post all murders to keep the murder’s identity hidden as long as possible.

Players: Be as dramatic as possible. Tell us where you are in the house and what you are doing.

Email me at if you wish to be considered for the job!

I’m in the kitchen. I have gotten an irresistible craving for microwave popcorn and am ransacking the cabinets looking for just one bag. Damn lousy millionaires. You’d think they’d have one lousy package of microwave popcorn for emergencies.

They’ve got some kind of off-brand caviar in here. So, at least I’ve got blackmail material. They won’t want that spreading through the country club crowd…

Jaade was in the master bedroom, snooping through the bedside drawer. She was hoping to find out who had invited them there, and why…or at least, what the occupants of the house kept in their drawers.

Gyt_fx is mingling with 3 incredibly beautiful women and one star wars nerd who just wont leave us alone. He keeps commenting on how each girl would look with buns on the sides of their head… And comparing himself to Han Solo…

I get restless and pass out draped over a pool table off expensive wine.
I start dreaming about whether or not i rolled the windows up on my 1987 Dodge Shadow earlier…

I’m in the kitchen. On the phone.

Scuba Ben was in the conservatory, practicing the oboe part of “Night on Bald Mountain.”

Since this was the first time he had picked up an oboe, there wasn’t a living creature larger than a fly within 50 feet of the conservatory.

While many thought I was murdered in the previous incarnation of this thread, I managed to miraculously survive, although I do now have an unexplainable fear of rhyming couplets.

I am currently in the dimly lit attic above the garage trying install electric wiring to take care of that dimly littedness.

I am also without pants.

Zebra is the guest bedroom checking out the collection of antique porn hidden under the mattress.

Simple Dreamer is in one of the spacious bathrooms drawing a bubble bath.

mle is in the attic, playing dress-up with all the interesting old clothes she found.

Ooh! a civil war sword!

Hold out for more players! I don’t mind waiting.
By the way, thos e jeans look really good on you, if you know what I mean.

My phone conversation has turned into a shouting match. I’m so mad, I’m even choking the phone, screaming, “I’ll kill you! I hate you!”

Someone peaks into the kitchen to see what all the shouting is about. I see them and my hand reaches out to the large carving knife on the counter. Eyes filled with a rage-borne madness, I turn to face the intruder, raise the knife over my head, and plunge it into the kitchen counter, accidentally severing the phone cord.

“Great,” said the intruder into my shame and anger. “That’s the only phone in this place.”

Back to you.

Someone, like maybe the hostess, should email all the people who participated in the first thread so we have more people for me to ki, I mean more people to helm me find the killer.

Zebra notices himself in the mirror and then he says to his reflection

Are you looking at me?

I’m playing XBox in the basement. In the dark. As per the instructions on my invitation, I’m naked.

IdiotBoy is trying to play billiards around Gyt_fx’s drunken carcass draped across the table.
Ahem “Do you mind…?”

I’m in a bedroom, about to lose my virginity. My much more experienced girlfriend is guiding me slowly, lovingly, into the world of manhood. A romantic alternative rock song plays in the background, crooning about how life is unfair and love is lost. Candles flicker softly around the bed. The camera spins slowly around us, evoking the dizzying emotions of the moment, as she takes off my shirt. I’m nervous, but I feel safe and loved and swept up in the moment. My girlfriend is confident and smiles knowingly. She pulls me toward her and kisses me.

. . . wait. Now she’s patting me on the back softly, saying, “It’s ok. It’s ok. It happens to a lot of guys. Let’s just get you cleaned up.” I’m starting to fall asleep.

[My email is]

I’m in the pantry with peritrochoid. We can hear **NCB ** yakking on the phone, and it’s starting to get on my nerves; this is SUPPOSED to be a party, after all. Sheesh, how anti social can you get?

((No really, I swear I can tell time! I got a tad busy at the last moment and the killer had a few changes to make…the race is on))

The killer has roamed the house, looking for the right person…the one invited for the party, for a special reason. A plot, most foul. Revenge is the game, and the victim is being hunted.

The killer stops, as the victim is spotted. Quietly slinking up behind Jimmy Chitwood the murderer wraps a cord around their hands, and then slips it quickly over his head. “Hey!” he struggles to say as pressure is applied to his throat.

A short time later, Jaade wanders past the basement, seeking other houseguests…as she spies Jimmy laying near the TV, tongue protruding from his mouth, she screams loudly. Idiotboy scratches as her scream startles him, and he pokes gyt_fx in the leg with his pool cue. Zebra knocks the mirror off the wall, breaking it, and curses loudly as he runs down the stairs.

Peritrochoid and Maureen hear Jaade’s scream and come running out of the pantry in time to see NCB drop the knife and guiltily drop the cord into his pants pocket. The three of them rush down to the basement which the other houseguests have all managed to find. Maureen rushes to comfort Jaade as NCB and Peritrochoid inspect the body.

“Call the police,” mlerose yells as she comes into the room dressed in a general’s coat and a hoop skirt.

“It looks like he’s been strangled,” Mullinator says, as everyone tries to avoid looking at his bare legs. Simple Dreamer just stands at the edge of the room, dripping water from her hair with a towel wrapped neatly around her. Kat drops the caviar on the stairs when she sees what everyone is looking and runs back up the stairs.

“Where are Age Quod Agis and Scuba Ben?” Maureen asked suspiciously. Simple Dreamer looks up frightfully, wiping cracker crumbs from her bare feet.

“Do you think they’re dead too?”

Let the games begin…you may post your guess, as well as help progress the story along, moving characters around and such.

At that very moment, I walk in, due to my poor sense of timing.

Johnny Bravo is putting away the video camera, having just recorded Age Quod Agis’s performance for the new hit reality show, “Loser Virgins and their Far More Experienced Girlfriends.”

Catch it this spring, only on Fox.

The girlfriend shoots Johnny a thumbs up, Johnny slips the girlfriend an envelope full of cash.

Just to make sure we don’t have the same solution as last time, I pre-emptively accuse Jaade.

I’m still in the conservatory, practicing on the oboe. I haven’t heard any screams, or anything else, over my music. Not because it’s loud, but because my “talent” with the oboe makes even normal sound flee for its ephemeral life. Anybody who comes looking (or hunting) for me will have to be Very Brave indeed.

… or is this torturous excuse for music just my way of making sure I can come and go unwitnessed?