3. Potential stalker killers leave because there is apparently no one home.
or: replace 2. with: The Costuminatrix hears knock, mumbles "it's 4 in the freaking morning and I do not want to sign any petitions supporting Obama right now" and goes back to sleep.
If I wanted to clear out the theatre Janet-Leigh style, I could do this:
1. Flightless has insomnia and is up reading at 4 a.m., but does not answer the door.
Now, if you remember from the last post, we have the technology (and creativity) to use those Ichi-inspired "razor blade in heels" surgical implants, so Flightless offered to use her gub'ment Stimulus Check to get them so we could use this modification:
3. Flightless finally looks out the 3rd floor window to see what all the noise is. Giant cat has potential stalker killers down on the concrete & is savagely toying with them. Stalker killers look up at the window and beg for a quicker death.
4. She kind of wants a snack anyway, so she goes downstairs and kills them with her razor blade heels before grabbing the Tofutti Cuties out of the freezer. [Product Placement!]
Fortunately, she reminded me that she always sleeps in her teddy-wimple twinset.
Speaking of tofu, our resident chef Tofu Girl has a movie with an insectoid culinary theme, which you don't see every day in the horror genre:
1. Tofu Girl goes home. Tofu Girl kills several mosquitoes. Tofu Girl rejoices.
2. Killers arrive at 11:30.
3. Tofu Girl is busy counting mosquito corpses. She looks up to see the killers and decides that yes, that cattle prod is the VERY THING she needs to continue killing mosquitoes.
4. Tofu Girl offers cupcakes in return for said cattle prod.
5. Killers die of diabetic shock.
Tofu Girl emerges victorious against mosquitoes, killers, and sugar.
Rawk Spice’s movie deftly combines two storylines into something we like to call “Avoidant Vengeance”:
1. If its 2 am and RS is getting home from anywhere odds are she's been drinking
2. Any noise wakes RS up, but she's really choosy about who/what she gets out of bed for, especially under condition #1.
3. Potential stalker killer hears dulcet strains of Carrie Underwood coming from neighbor's place, assumes there is a chick in there, and knocks on his door instead.
4. RS has unintentionally killed two birds with one stone.
It has the ring of reality, plus a twist ending. Also, knowing RS as I do, it has the notion that Motorhead played at top volume probably scares the crapola out of bag-headed killers. I give it two thumbs up.
Professor Jack, our resident Decadent Victorianist, offers his ode to late-night interruptions, with violent and bloody results:
1. Professor Jack is in bed furiously taking notes on some tawdry French Decadent novel when he hears a knock at the door.
2. He opens the door, and standing on his landing is someone with a bag over their head, brandishing a knife.
3. Unfortunately for the would-be killer, Jack has a straight razor and it is much, much sharper than Bag Man's knife.
4. Jack yells "NO ONE INTERRUPTS MY TRAIN OF THOUGHT! I'M TRYING TO WRITE A DISSERTATION!" while slashing Bag Man to bits.
5. When it's all over, the Professor wonders if there is room in the basement for another one. Maybe if he stacks them creatively...
Moral of the story: Don’t mess with a PhD, man. They will CUT you, and they will fail you in British Lit.
Riva Derci wants rock stars involved somehow, and suggested that if anyone is knocking on her door at 4 a.m., it better be David Bowie, or there will be blood.
But Riva, what if it was David Bowie with a sp00ky bag over his head? "Let's dance.....put on your bag mask and daaaaance the blues...."
We decided that a bag-headed Bowie would probably sound more like Assy McGee.
The Tenebrous Empress hails from the Franco-Argento Cinematic European Lodge for Education and Study (FACELES), and pooh-poohs the idea of mere late-night doorknocks and bag-headed killers; this is all too American-peasant for her. Believing instead that she runs a significant chance of having her face stolen in Europe—as she says, hott Eurotrash is always trying to steal the faces of unsuspecting sluts—
--so she wouldn't even be home. She'd be in Europe seeking the Evil Scientist of her dreams, with leather miniskirt, merry widow and Aqua Net hairspray carefully packed in her suitcase.
The Lady Mishegas ups the ante – she has a secret weapon, the KILLER BABY.
1. It's 4 a.m. The Lady is up with baby in living room.
2. There is a knock at the door.
3. The Lady unleashes her Mini-Me, who savagely rends the intruder limb from limb with the power of her drool, diaper droppings, and extreme cuteness.
Kitty LeClaw advised me to do a little plot repair on my own movie. Instead of calling the police or going back to sleep, she suggested that I answer the door with a whirling blender in-hand.
Our blender, sadly, is busted as the result of too many impromptu margarita ice-crushing sessions, which would guarantee me instant death. People with faulty or overused electric weapons always seem to have trouble. Witness Leatherface’s chainsaw malfunction.
However, I do have hippie neighbors. They are fond of constant campfires and maypole dancing. Kind of like The Wicker Man but not as awesome.
Flightless immediately leaped into the screenwriting fray:
"This movie has EVERYTHING! Divine costumes [Screen cap], a killer blender [Screen cap], and the most horrifically ingenious use of a maypole [Screen cap-NSFW]!"
The Tenebrous Empress politely pointed out that she had omitted Helmut Berger, whose ingenious use of a maypole she would certainly pay $10.75 or more to view.
This was met with unanimous approval by all.
But in a fit of sudden brainstorming, I arrived at this script:
1. At 4 am, there is a knock on the door, waking The Costuminatrix from a sound sleep.
3. The Costuminatrix slams door, locks it, returns to bed.
4. Bag Head Killer stands forlornly outside, wondering what to do now.
Academy Awardsville, here we come!!!