Straight Dope Horror Movie Game

The music started up again. js_africanus found himself clutching a saxophone, with no idea how to play. He needn’t have worried. The instrument thrust itself into his mouth and drew air ruthlessly out of his lungs. The keys directed his fingers hither and yon. Tristan and Grelby watched, gaping, as his eyes slid shut and he began to sway to the music.

Kat seemed to float, entranced, until she reached the stage as well, where she began to undulate in what seemed a parody of a dance.

TTT heard the music and, lacking any destination at the moment, headed in that direction. Either there’d be people there, in which case he’d be safe, or there’d be some kind of demonic beings, in which case he’d at least be dead and could stop worrying.

When El Elvis Rojo rolled of Zebra he didn’t notice Zebra going up and quickly taking out the black contacts that he was wearing. (he also failed to notice that Zebra had normal eyes tattoed on his eyelids)

Zebra looked at the flee Kat and muttered to himself “One down and eight to go.”

“Maybe I’ll get to sleep with her after all” El Elvis Rojo said.

“Yes you will get to sleep with her later.” Then Zebra struck again and plunged a fondue fork through El Elvis Rojo’s ear and after it came out the other ear and El Elvis Rojo fell dead. ** Zebra said “Elvis has left the building.”

Then Zebra headed back to where he had heard Elfkin yelling and he found…

The rhythm bumped through his body as it stiffened and cooled.

“It ain’t Rockabilly,” said El Elvis Rojo. “But I’ve got my guitar and four good strings. This dang fondue fork is gonna through me off key,” he added as he headed for the source of the music. Dixiland, that is.

** Zebra** was in time find a hiding spot to spy on the arguing pair. He smirked to see CRoex covering his head with his arms, while begging ** Elfkin** to stop hitting him. Eventually she gave into his pitiful pleas and put her hands down.

CRoex stood up and wiped the dirt off his lab coat. " Remind me never to piss off a redhead again- ow!"

" Shut up, you."

CRoex shrugged, it was probably good advice. He defied her anyway, though. " Weren’t there kids?"

Elfkin gave him a blank look. " What?"

" I mean, I thought I saw you leaving the house where there were some kids…" He mumbled.

" You were spying on me?!?!" She screamed, and he braced himself for more hitting. But the blows never fell. " Yeah, there were kids. Well sort of. I work for a residency program for Juvenile delenquents. Come to think of it, we’re probably safer out there than we would be with them. Hey look it’s my flashlight!" She stooped to pick it up, and instead of leering CRoex was just happy she hadn’t found it eariler.

" So you’re not worried something will get them?" He asked.

" Nah, I sent the dog back to the house to protect them anyway."

" When was that?"

" Right when I headed out to the…wait a minute." She looked puzzled. " If I sent the dog back into the house, what was it doing here?"

As they looked around, trying to figure it out, Zebra moved in for the kill. He reached for his favorite golf club and started to sneak up on them when a blur of green caught his eye. He turned to look and noticed the thing was wearing a tag with the number “42” on it. Before he could figure it out, the thing had jumped on him, and was slashing at his throat.

" 42! There you are! I’vw been looking everywhere for you!" CRoex crowed in delight, oblivious to all the blood. Finally it sank in. " Oh dear, do you suppose we should help him?"

" I think it’s a little late for that now." Elfkin said as she gazed impassively at the corpse. She turned and started to walk away.

" Hey, where are you going?" CRoex asked, looking up from tranquilizing 42.

" Well, it’s getting cold out, and since that thing ruined my damn shirt, I thought I’d go back to the house for another one before I try to find out where everyone went."

He tried to hold in a disappointed sigh. " You could take my lab coat."

She looked at the blood and chemical stained garment. " Uh…thanks, but no." With that she left.

CRoex, cradling the unconscious gremlin in his arms, stood for a moment watching her, then hurried to catch up. Maybe he could pay one of the delenquents to babysit 42 for him.

His heart raced as he wandered the graveyard alone. “Why am I out here?” is the only solid thought that formed in Blackeyes’ mind. Well, that and the numerous ways he was going to be disemboweled, crushed, maimed, eaten, and…well, all that fun stuff. Again, he asked himself the question.

Then he heard a noise. A twig snapped behind him. An owl hooted to his left. A wolf howled in the distance to his right. An angry shape bolted from the bush before him, and before either of them could scream, the two collided and fell over a tombstone into an opened grave. After what seemed to be ages of silence, Blackeyes opened his eyes to view the horrific face of the wieght on his chest. Of all the horrors he imagined, of all the terrible beasts that crept into his mind’s eye, of all the horrific things that could happen to him this evening, being mounted by a naked Grasshopper wasn’t one of them.


The two scrambled to their feet and assessed the situation. Relief came over them as they realized the beast before them was nothing but another hapless wanderer. Only Blackeyes seemed a little uneasy still.

“You mind putting your pants on?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry…”

The music slowly got louder as TTT wandered threw the mist. He didn’t really know where he was heading, but at least he knew he was heading in the right direction. None of this felt right. It felt even worse being alone. At least, that’s what he thought before the dark image came bursting out of the treeline, landing on the path infront of him.



The two fell backwards, and sat there staring at one another. “You scared the crap out of me!” said the figure.

“I scared the crap outta you?!?!” replied TTT.

“YES! Well, no, not really. I haven’t crapped myself since I was a little kid.” replied the figure, getting to his feet. “Well, there was that one time I was kicked by the horse, but that’s niether here nor there. Here, let me give you a hand.”

TTT thanked the stranger, relieved to once again be in the company of another human. “Thanks. My name’s TTT.”

TTT? Funny name. I’m El Elvis Rojo, but you can call me Elvis. Or Rojo. Or Elro. No, don’t call me that, that’s stupid. Sorry, this little starttle’s got me a little scatterbrained.”

“That’s understandible, I’m pretty shaken up by that myself. And besides, you’ve got a…fork…stuck in your…” His speech trailed off as closer examination of his friend revealed he was probably better off alone.

“What?” replied Elvis, a little confused. Then, following TTT’s gaze, “Oh, yeah, this!” TTT stared in silent shock as Elvis grasped the handle of the fondou fork and pulled it out of his ear. It was even more unsettling as the blood flowed from his neck back up into his ear. “Fondou party,” Elvis said with a roll of the eyes, before putting the fork one of his coat’s pockets. “Friggin’ Swedes.”

“Um…isn’t fondou a Fre…” TTT began before Elvis cut him off.

“So, how about getting to that music, eh?” he said, putting his arm around TTT. “You know, rockabilly got some of it’s influence from Dixie. Oh yeah, it’s true! It’s snagged a little from country, surf, a little bit of soul…”

Together, the two wandered down the path towards the music. "Why fight it? TTT thought, “It’s why I’m here.”

Suddenly CRorex realized that if 42 was here what had taken his car keys and stolen his car. Looking around to make sure nobody was watching he placed the gremlin on the ground and using his pocket knife cut out the radio tracking tag from the gremlin’s leg.

Turning to what was left of Zebra he quickly seached the body, looking for anything useful. Inside his wallet CRorex found a card with a magnetic reader strip on the back with nothing to identify it. Both the tracking tag and the card went into his pants pockets. Figuring that a corpse once robbed might as well be robbed for all it was worth he also took the golf club, hoping to find a complete set.

Thinking to himself, ‘At least with the tracking tag if someone eventually makes it way back to the facility they’ll be able to locate my corpse.’ Then shrugging off that thought he pulled out the collapsable baton from where he hid it at the small of his back set off following Elfkin.

Although badly injured and and looked dead Zebra had survived. Shortly after CRorex left Zebra groaned and tried to stand.

Kat knelt, crouched in the deepest shadows. Something was in the air tonight, she could smell it. It was what had called to her. A call that struck every cord in her being, a call that cannot – will not be refused. She knew that everything that had happened so far was simply a prelude of what was to come. Forces were awakening, reasserting themselves after their long abscense. Sightless eyes fixed on a point lost in the darkness and she loped away.

TTT noticed a patch of light up in the distance and lacking a better plan headed to Elfkin and her flashlight.

What really happened whe CRorex searched Zebra was beside takeing the golf club and the swipe card of death CRorex also took two dollars and then did some stuff with Zebra’s lifeless body that is best left for websites with adult check. Needless to say the helpless Zebra had nothing to do with it.

And that groaning business is a load of crap.

After CRorex had left Zebra sat straight up. Then he soundlessly got up and started back to the cabin. If you listened very closely you might have heard

“I want my two dollars”
TTT and Elfkin were at the cabin when CRorex came up.

“Where did you get that golf club and oh you have some hair gel on you chin?” asked TTT.

“Umm somewhere, but if you see Zebra don’t tell him where I am.” CRorex replied.

“If you see Zebra you shoud freak out as well as he is dead.” added Elfkin.


“Pull youself together man!” Elfkin said as she slapped him hard across the face. “All of us coudl die befor sunrise if we don’t start using our heads!”

“You know you boobs bounce real nice when you’re mad?” TTT asked her.

again with the hitting and yelling.

And if Elfkin wasn’t screaming profanities, and if TTT weren’t wimpering like a school girl reading Little Women, they might have heard a low whisper on the wind…

I want my two dollars

Ummm…I don’t know if I should mention this, but TTT seems to have ended up in two places at the same time.
just thought I’d point that out…


Yeah I noticed that :frowning: I went to get a cup of coffee before I hit submit.

I’m actually suprised that didn’t happen earlier.

Hey this is the movies. Anything is possible.
I guess we keep it going till TTT post and continues what part of the film he wants to be part of. The cabin or (let me get this straight) Haunted Dixeland Band pavillion.

Sheriff Ich Bin’s sits in his metal folding chair, legs up on his desk, a small black and white television with a fuzzy picture of an “I Love Lucy” rerun. His blued Colt sidearm hangs at his side, his gold badge glistening. His white Pendelton hat is tipped slightly back on his head, his arms are folded behind his head, and he chuckles with a “HAW HAW HAW” as Lucy stuffs more chocolate into her mouth. Behind him, a glass case stands with a large assortment of machine guns, along with his collection of ancient mauri blowguns, crossbows, welsh battle axes and various religious icons. The wind shifts, and through the open window, a faint, far off sound of dixieland music sifts from the nearby cemetary, followed by the scream of what by all accounts is a cheerleader, or prom queen, or both. Annoyed, **Ich Bin’s ** stands up and closes the window, sitting back in the chair. Lucy is now scrambling even faster, and the sheriff lets out a loud guffaw.

Turning to Elfkin, TTT asks, “Do you recall whether I’m the good twin or the evil twin?”

“There’s two of you?!”

“‘Septuplets’ means twins, right?”


Madness, it was all sheer madness. Being in the presence of an apparently reasonably normal human being was some comfort, even if he was a musician. Still TTT kept hearing voices in his head. Voices that were talking about him. Usually that’s not a good thing. Walking around graveyards by night is not conducive to mental health. He was sure to have read that somewhere.

It was as if he was in two places at once, one the already fantastic reality of a somber yet eerily beautiful chapel that they were approaching, the other an even more unbelievable cabin scene with some people he wasn’t sure he liked to be close to. At least not within striking distance.

TTT shook his head angrily, clearing his mind of the intrusions of the other, more frightening scene. Getting a firm grip on reality he noted with satisfaction that he was wearing his leather jacket. In a pocket he found a lighter. That was something at least. Being in the company of people who are, without exception, armed to the teeth doesn’t make you feel safe. It only makes you feel vulnerable. And he’d be damned if he’d ask Elvis for that fondue fork.

Elvis had rather uncharacteristically fallen silent when reaching the chapel. His keen musical ear had noticed that there was something wrong. He gestured to TTT to wait, while he peered around the corner of the open doors. He took in the full horror of what was happening inside.

Then he motioned ‘all clear’.

Slowly they walked through the aisle towards the front, where an unknown woman was swaying to and fro like a birch in a winter storm. Behind her the band played on, in an oddly catching rythm.

“A nice little night’s music, ain’t that right?”

TTT tried to catch his attention, and nodded in the direction of the oddly composed audience. “But aren’t those people a bit… dead?” he whispered.

“So what? You’re not prejudiced, are you? Sheesh… Should 'ave seen some of the folks I’ve had to play for”

TTT swallowed the last remainder of his fear and shrugged. When in Rome… He wondered what the break in the program would be like.

Those are the perils of scientific education. Unthinkingly TTT had discarded the third option. The shock of passing through a time-space fracture had split is very being into his physical body and his astral body. By strong majicks the latter was torn away, to the unholy tomb were the sacrifice was proceeding.

But on its way it was stopped by the unnatural occurrences around the cabin, where the undead Zebra was about to enter on the heated discussion of CRorex and Elfkin. Weakened by its separation from the physical body, his astral projection was a mere marionette in the hands of the strong spirits in whose company he had fallen. His incoherent ramblings were another side-effect. Still he should praise himself lucky not to be outside, as some less fortunate mortals still were.

Like Grashopper and Blackeyes, who found themselves being introduced to the teeth of a couple of CRorexs Gremlins. Like Brahesilver, who valiantly struggled against the frantic villagers who, encouraged by Gajin, were happy to add another sacrifice to their score.

Elfkin stopped whacking the rather solid astral projection of TTT when CRorex said,

“Goodness Gracious me! Look at that!”

All three turned and looked at a mouse that had walked out of his mouse hole. He wore half a ping pong ball on his head and had dragged out a toy motorcycle. He then started to perform tricks. He did wheelies and dougnuts and then after a few minutes he rode back into his hole. While they were watching that Zebra came in the door behind them and walked unnoticed up the stairs to where Elfkins young wards were.

After the mouse went back inside Elfkin turned her flashlight back to CRorex and TTT where it was painfully obvious that they were looking at her chest. Of course they had to look because she had lost her shirt and standing there in a a black bra and a skin tight black leather pants. Her creamy skin sharply contrasting with the black lace and her red locks seeming to reach down and caress her breasts, the boys had to look at them.

Smack! She hit TTT. The bouncing only drew CRorex in more. Smack! [CRorex** winced in pain but now TTT was re-mesmerized. Stuck in this loop Zebra approached the rooms of the wards.

(the wards are all HS seniorsbut they have been held about 6 years as they are all at least 25 years old. They are;

Amanda - Cheerleader who thinks that more pep is needed for everyone and dates the Quarterback. She was of course abused by her parents as they bought all her clothes at Wal Mart. She never notices
Brandon-nerd/computer genius but loser with girls. Freezes up whenever talking to girls wth the exception of when he talks to
Candy-tough tomboy girl who really cares for Brandon and can beat the crap out of most people but secretly writes poetry.
David- The aforementioned QB who is dating Amanda but secretly wants a man to hug and kiss, specifically
Eddie- the place kicker. He real name is unpronouncable as he is from some eastern european country that keeps changing names he can kick anything except for the drug habit that he got from his friend
Friday - Yes her parents named her Friday even though she was born on a Monday. She deals drugs and always has plenty of drugs.)

[aside] all that backstory is making me hungry I’m going to get a snack.[/aside]

BraheSilver had by this point sobered up enough to find his car in the cemetary’s parking lot. His first stop was the local Jack-in-the-Box, a trip which promised tasty fried treats to avert the effects of what was sure to be a killer headache after the events of the night. In actuality, such was not the case.

“Look, stuffed jalapenos. How hard is that?!” he shouted into the drive-thru speaker at the menu.

An almost unintelligible gurgling emitted from the speaker, though Brahe wasn’t suspicious quite yet; this is common for all fast-food tellers. However, the LED screen that would normally have repeated his order now said in its blood-red lettering: “BRAINS $6.66”

“What? I don’t care who Manny is, or why he sings to you! I just want… Argh! To hell with you!” he shouted, and drove the little car around the corner at high speed, plowing down the first three rows of Gaijin’s mob, which had been waiting quietly for him on the other side of the building.

The sheer press of people forced his car to a halt as the villagers gathered around the vehicle. They remained oddly silent, and BraheSilver noted even through his fright that the majority of the “mob” carried no obvious weapons; it was as if this incredible number of people had just suddenly had the urge to congregate by unspoken agreement.

The crowd parted slightly, and Gaijin strode to the fore, to stand beside Brahe’s door. The streetlights suddenly turned off all at once, leaving the Jack-in-the-Box parking lot the only we–lit area to be seen.

“Join us!” shouted Gaijin benevolently, throwing his arms wide and smiling widely enough that his lower lip split, yet apparently feeling no pain. “You can be a cult of one in today’s modern occult!” The lights inside the restaurant reflected off a sandwich wrapper at his feet, giving his face an evil light from below.

Without waiting for an answer, Gaijin pointed to Brahe through the window, and the mob cheered. Instantly, the front ranks of the mob rushed and began beating against the vehicle. The decaying fist of robertliguori’s corpse shattered the passenger window, and small carved rocks, scraps of herbs, and the occasional unidentifiable piece of internal organ peppered Brahe, thrown in by the villagers on that side. With a roar, “the Dog” leapt onto the hood of the car and pawed at the windshield.

BraheSilver screamed a manly scream of pure terror and put the car in reverse, running over the few villagers who had gathered to the rear and throwing “the Dog” to the ground. The car bumped off the curb into the deserted street, and Brahe inexpertly threw the car into a spin, pointing away from the oncoming mob, and raced towards the only other man-made light he could see: the flickering shadow-patterns that indicated a television set, from a window underneath a wooden sign: “Sheriff’s Office.”

"The Dog" snuck away from the crowd. “They’re rioting in the streets,” he thought to himself. “The Time is upon us,” he added in thought.

He crept off in the darkness, back to the cemetary, the focal point of this night’s confusion. What was his intent? What did he plan to do? To whom did he plan to do it? Was it relevant that he was an Ibizan hound, or could any dog have done this? Or was he an Ibizan hound at all?

The moonlight lit his way as he made his way back into the cemetary. He paused at a reflecting pool. Looking back at him was another dog, a dog he recognized, a dog with History. It wasn’t just any dog, but a particular dog. It was a Pharaoh hound named Aa. Aa, the eldest. Aa recognized himself. He recognized his past. He recognized his present. He recognized no future, for after tonight none would exist for him, for canine kind, for man kind. The key lay in a grave; a grave equidistant between the jazz chapel, the cabin, and the Jack-in-the-Box. A grave marked with the name…“what was that?!” he thought with sudden alertness, and sped into the night.

Blackeyes, while in the open grave with Grasshopper, said, “Wait. You don’t have any pants on you. You’re completely naked. Propably caused by having hot sweaty sex with a Super Hot Cheerleader/Prom Queen interrupted by zombies who carried her away.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right.”

“Look, I’m sorry I yelled at you like that when you mounted me. I was just startled, is all.”

Grasshopper said nothing other than “s’okay” and took a step with his back against the walls of the grave, facing Blackeyes.

Blackeyes said, “I wonder how we’re gonna get out of here. It’s a foot or so deeper than regulation-sized graves, and no one would see us in here. Total seclusion, man.”

The dirt making up the east “wall” of the grave shifted slightly, with neither Grasshopper nor Blackeyes noticing.

Grasshopper looked nervously at Blackeyes and then up to the top of the grave. “I’m certain that, if you gave me a boost up, I could manage to climb out. And, er, then I would definitely fo get a ladder or a rope or something and help you out, too.” He congratulated himself on that save, sure that Blackeyes hadn’t noticed the pause.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get a chance to find out. Suddenly, the east wall collapsed and a filthy, mud-covered, unkempt figure staggered forward, nearly knocking Grasshopper over. At the same time, a hand extended out of the opposite wall and grabbed Blackeyes by the hair, yanking it painfully.

“That’s it, Lucy. Whine for me,” Sheriff Ich Bin had locked the doors and was enjoying his reruns along with a nice, stiff drink. Sure, he was on duty, but things had been quiet lately, and listening to Lucy explain herself to Ricky always got him a little hot and bothered. “Better to be caught drinking on the job than that other thing,” he always told himself. Unfortunately, “Quiet Time” was cut short by the squeel of tires and sound of two tons of steel and plastic crashing through his lobby wall.
“What the HELL was THAT?” he shouted jumping up from his desk. He swung the door from his office to the lobby to find BraheSilver sitting in his car, his head resting on the steering wheel. “Lt. San Che, are you alright?”
“Fine, sir,” called his deputy from under his desk. The two walked over to the car and inspected the driver. After it was decided it was probably safe to move him (and that Dep. San Che was to administer mouth to mouth if the need arose), they woke BraheSilver and pulled him from the car.
“I say, boy, what the HELL is the matter with you?” Sheriff Ich Bin asked the dazed Brahe. He continued to repeat the question until the world in Brahe’s stopped spinning. Unfortunately, staring wide eyed, pointing behind him, and screaming wasn’t exactly the answer Ich Bin had hoped for. He and Dep. San Che turned around just as the first of Gaijin’s followers reached the newly redesigned front door.

“Well, sheeit.”

Sheriff Ich Bin’s mind drifted back to just one hour earlier, as he cursed his rotten luck, living a life that seemed to move quickly, so quickly that he couldn’t think or type fast enough. In his mind’s eye, the screen shimmered…shimmered…
“KDK One calling KDK Twelve. KDK One calling KDK Twelve.”

Annoyed, Ich Bin’s picked up the CB as it squelched his name. Reaching out with one hand to turn the TV volume down, he tipped his hat back as he pressed the talk button on the pedestal microphone.

“KDK-Twelve here, go ahead”
“All finished here with our training ops.”

KDK One was the highly trained specials forces unit from neighboring Butchtown, who had been running training operations in old man McGintie’s stone quarry for the last two days. A rag-tag but good hearted group of highly trained killers, they were calling to check in before heading out of town.

“Good to hear it boys, you have a safe trip back to Butchtown”, Ich Bin’s said.
“Roger that. We were wondering if you needed us to conveniently swing by to return that oven mitt?” barked Commander Bricker, the hard nosed leader of the group, who would probably go back for one of his men if they were wounded while retreating from an onslaught of rabid undead, for example, and sling him over his shoulder, and when finding themselves cut off from the rest, would proudly be pronounced a “son-of-a-bitch”, before flicking the pin on a handgrenade tied to his vest, taking out a good ten or twelve of the fiends.

“Naw”, Ich Bin’s answered. “You all just hold on to that oven mitt till I see you again in six months. No reason to make a special trip over here on this quiet, boring night”

“Roger that, Sheriff. This is KDK One, signing out”.

As Ich Bin’s turned back to catch the last few minutes of the show, he heard of slight popping noise come from inside the CB. A thin line of smoke curled up from the grill.

“Aww, shoot, dang fuse done blown again”, he cursed lightly.

Well, he would only be cut off from the rest of civilization for the two or three minutes it took to put a new fuse in, but he was missing the part where Ricky gives Lucy a box of chocolates, and that put him in a sour mood. As he fiddled with the cover, one of the screws rolled off the counter and fell to the floor with a clack.

Getting on his hands and knees to retrieve the screw, he noticed the parcel box that had arrived by post the previous day. His spunky assistant had promised to take it back to UPS this morning, but had apparently forgotten again. Forgetting the screw for what seemed to be only a moment, he pulled the box out to look at it again. “PROPERTY OF US GOVERNMENT. CONTAINS 1 (ONE) FIFTY FIVE GALLON DRUM OF HUMAN REMAINS EXPOSED TO RADIOACTIVE GAS, AND 1 (ONE) FLAMETHROWER, PREASSEMBLED, WITH NEW INTUITIVE OPERATION FUNCTION. THIS SIDE UP”.

“Dang, how’d they get a 55 gallon drum in this box?” he muttered, pushing it back under the table.

Suddenly, the TV caught his attention again. It was what he’d been waiting for all night, the I Love Lucy movie marathon! Planting himself in his chair again, thoughts of the CB and the mysterious box vanished from his mind. He started to feel warm all over. On a quiet night like this, with lovely Lucy chattering to him, a man’s thoughts naturally turn to tender thoughts…

Outside, the sound of glass smashing and tires squealing broke the silence of the night again. “Danggummit, can’t a guy get no peace and quiet around here?”, he muttered, turning up the volume of the TV, hoping not to be bothered again.