Low Budget Tales Of Cliched Horror
Caption: Minneapolis, Minnesota
[The scene opens with a shot of the outside of a hospital. Cut inside to a hallway. A nurse with what looks like herpes on her lip is whistling a happy tune. Sounds like "Coma" by Guns N Roses. Quite an odd tune to be whistling in a hospital. Especially outside of Room 429. Where HE is. I'd tell you who "he" is, but I'm not supposed to, since it's a secret. Unless you have half a brain. Although, you DO like BOB, so maybe you qualify...
[Anyway...In a lifetime of hope, in a second of kindness. There is never a doubt that we are born and die alone. From within or without, there's no way they can find us. When they knock at the door, the lights are on, but we ain't home. Up here in Room 429, the world ain't so unkind. In this room, he was laying motionless in a bed that was on a floor made of tiles, and held up by support beams of some sort. What am I, a construction expert? He lay motionless under a blanket. An ugly beige blanket. He was just a shell of his former self. You wouldn't even recognize him. But you couldn't anyway, since I'm not letting you see his face or telling you his name. Oh, it's prominently displayed right there on his chart. DON'T LOOK, ASSHOLE! Don't you dare!
[But before we get to who he is, or how I know that he's about to become relevant to this RP, we should take a peek inside his mind. We can do this. I have great powers. Don't believe me? Check this out:]
FIRST PERSON DREAMER: Okay…orange window treatments? What decade are you living in, buddy? Reality check! It’s 2006! Your feng shui called and wants to know when it can come back, girlfriend. And double curtain rods are soooo 1980s.
[Hold on, hold on. Uh...yeah. Maybe we'll check back in a few more minutes.]
…
…
…
…
[OK, now let's check.]
FPD: Why, yes, Paris Hilton, I would love nothing more than to have long conversations with you about abstinence and sobriety for the rest of my life.
Paris Hilton: And I’m having my vagina removed and my ass sewn shut. This way I can just shit out my mouth.
FPD: Awesome!
PH: I’m hot!
[She opens her mouth and farts.]
[Um...wow. I guess we're still just a few seconds too early. Dude is seriously in hell right now. But it's about to get worse! You're looking at our man, a sports entertainer-slash-TV show host who hates his fans almost as much as he hates...himself. Tonight, he'll learn that it doesn't take a lot of special effects or an original script to come face to face with his worst nightmare...his soul.]
Caption: Low Budget Tales Of Cliched Horror
Narrator: On Low Budget Tales Of Cliched Horror!
[Our First Person Dreamer guzzles a beer.]
Caption: “A TV Show From Hell”
FPD: Captions? In a dream? Weird…
Radio Announcer: It’s 2:15 a.m. Minneapolis, and it’s time for the man you looove to hate. He’s taking your calls.
[A picture on the wall of our man, with the words "He's Mad As Hell!" underneath.]
Radio Announcer: And he’s mad as hell at 666-DVIL! It’s Erty Ecinntv!
FPD: It’s 2:15 and I’m Erty Ecinntv. What are you doing awake? I hate you all!
*Rumble of thunder*
FPD: Almost as much as I hate myself. Line 1, hello!
Line 1: I just wanna say I really love your matches and I think you’re–
FPD: Shut up! I hate you!
*Rumble of thunder*
FPD: Line 2, hello!
Line 2: What’s your problem, Ecinntv? What did you do, sell your soul to the devil or somethin’?
FPD: Line 3, hello!
Line 3: Erty, I’m 16, and I’m feelin’ really depressed and confused and I don’t know what to do.
FPD: Go kill yourself! Don’t waste my time. Don’t worry, no one will miss you. OK, we’ll be back with more of your miserable calls right after this.
[He guzzles a beer, then starts coughing.]
FPD: I gotta quit drinking.
TV Commercial (Background): Banging chicks, banging chicks, I love banging chicks…
FPD: Geez it’s hot in here.
[The thermostat quickly rises all the way up to about 130 degrees.]
Evil Voice: Ecinntv! It’s time!
FPD: Who said that?
[He looks out the window.]
FPD: Crazy marks.
*Rumble of thunder*
FPD: Alright, we’re back. And you’re still calling! How pathetic. Line 6, hello!
Evil Voice: How hot do you think it is in HELL?
FPD: I don’t know. Why don’t you ask your mother? Line 4, hell–OWW.
Evil Voice: You leave my mother out of this. You’re all alone now Erty. Feeling warm? Channel 66.6? What a coincidence! Time is running out on your Satanex clock. You’re looking a little tortured, Erty! Relax, guy, you hungry? Want to borrow my pitchfork! DO I HAVE TO COME RIGHT OUT AND SAY IT!
FPD: Those crazy marks! Line 1, hello!
Line 1: Erty? This is Taylor.
FPD: Why are you calling? Didn’t you get it when I broke up with you? I HATE you!
Line 1: Almost as much as you hate yourself? Oh, Erty, I love you! Let’s go away. Like when we went to that swinging resort in the mountains. Things can be good again. You’ve got to believe that they can.
*Rumble of thunder*
FPD: Crank call…Line 2, hello!
*Rumble of thunder*
Evil Voice: Good one, Ecinntv. I never liked the mountains anyway. Too chilly. *Evil laugh*
FPD: Why don’t you just show yourself…face to face!
Evil Voice: Yes, well, I’d love to! But I think it’ll be a lot scarier for you to imagine what I look like. Oooh, there’s horns on your poster…I wonder what that means? Your “on the air” sign is getting red. Interesting! Time’s still running out, Ecinntv. It’s getting so hot in here…
[The thermostat quickly rises all the way up to about 130 degrees...again.]
FPD: Hey, you already used that shot.
Evil Voice: Here at WDVL. Get it? Pleased to meet you, WON’T YOU GUESS MY NAME?
FPD: LINE 1, hello!
[The clock is dripping with blood.]
Evil Voice: Have a little sympathy for me!
FPD: Those crazy marks! I hate them!
Evil Voice: As much as you hate yourself?
FPD: I will not go with you to HELL!
Evil Voice: Go with me? NEWSFLASH! You’re already in Hell!
[The door crashes open.]
BigBOSS: Hey, Trey!
[Back in Room 429, "he" woke up screaming. A nurse runs into the room.]
Nurse: What’s the matter?
Voice: Trey Vincent just dreamt Trey Vincent was trapped inside Ben Stiller! Where the FUCK is Trey Vincent?