What, And I Cannot Stress This Enough, The Fuck

EXT. MANIAC MANSION – ESTABLISHING – DAY

It is a typical American home — monster truck (with bitchin’ flames painted on) in the driveway, moonshine still next to the above-ground swimming pool.

INT. MANIAC MANSION – CONTINUOUS

HOMICIDOL MANIAC (infinite) is seated in a typical American easy chair, drinking a hand grenade in a commemorative namesake-shaped plastic cup, watching a baseball game from 2015 on the typically American 96-inch HDTV.

His partner, FIANCEE MANIAC (31), enters.

FIANCEE MANIAC: Hello love.

HOMICIDOL MANIAC: Hello. I feel strange.

FIANCEE MANIAC: Of course you do. You’ve been drinking hand grenades since you woke up.

HOMICIDOL MANIAC: What time is it?

FIANCEE MANIAC: It’s noon.

HOMICIDOL MANIAC: Oh.

BWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!! A LIGHT flashes from outside with an ear-splitting shitty digital sound effect!

FIANCEE MANIAC: No.

She DIVES for the door.

HOMICIDOL MANIAC: What–

FIANCEE MANIAC: Listen, I never told you, but–

SPLUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!! A sound like hell itself from right outside the door!

HOMICIDOL MANIAC: Never told me what?

SO INTENSE IT’S JUST RANDOM LETTERS!!! The door BURSTS open and there in black resplendence stands a disturbingly familiar figure!

FIANCEE MANIAC: Out! Get out! It’s not time yet!

HOMICIDOL MANIAC: Time for wh–

And he sees her. SARI (ageless beyond time). Even without shironuri, she is life and death as one.

HOMICIDOL MANIAC: What the hell? Sari-chan?

SARI: You called me -sama once, Maniac-san. You called me queen. You called me oshi.

FIANCEE MANIAC: You were never supposed to find us! Get OUT!

SARI: I have been here more times than you can imagine, and for far longer. MANIAC.

HOMICIDOL MANIAC: I’m confused. And where the hell is your makeup?

SARI: Six months have passed, Maniac. Six months since you abandoned your friends. It is time to return.

HOMICIDOL MANIAC: Six months? What are you talking about? I told the gang that I needed a few days off like a week ago.

FIANCEE MANIAC: That’s right! It’s only been a few days! He doesn’t need to rush!

SARI: Six months it has been!

Maniac looks at his hand grenade … and REALIZES.

HOMICIDOL MANIAC: Fiancee, what?

FIANCEE MANIAC: I’m sorry! I only wanted to do it for when we were going on vacation and then … you were so happy without all the extra stuff to do!

HOMICIDOL MANIAC: But I love idol.

SARI: He loves idol, woman!

FIANCEE MANIAC: What are you going to do with him?

SARI: He is needed. He will return.

HOMICIDOL MANIAC: I’m confused.

FIANCEE MANIAC: It’s okay. You can trust her.

HOMICIDOL MANIAC: I feel like this plot is moving about as well as that retcon we slipped in a few lines ago.

SARI: Indeed. Come.

EXT. MANIAC MANSION – CONTINUOUS

Sari and Maniac stand amid the rubble of what used to be Maniac’s bitchin’ monster truck.

MANIAC: Oh dang, my truck.

SARI: There are more important matters.

MANIAC: Yeah, I guess so. But, like, my truck.

Sari takes his hand.

MANIAC: So where do we start? You okay with Necroma?

SARI: It’s been a long time.

SMASH CUT TO BLACK.


Holy how the mother hubbard what in the blue blazes dadgum stupid hell-ass crud is going on in idol, you guys? Yeah, I took off a few. Sue me. It was supposed to be a few days to de-compress, and then I wound up taking an impromptu trip for the same reason and the time off turned into a week. Then okay a couple of weeks. Then I had Kerrie emailing being all “gee whiz idiot why don’t you just fail harder” and I was like “I’m sorry but thanks for keeping the lights on” and then Necroma broke up? And like half of everybody graduated? And nobody did any lives because the virus that got me stuck at home for three months and counting made it dangerous to cram a bunch of wota into a tight space to breathe on each other? And then something something GANG PARADE?

Anyway, this is dumb. Why idol. Why any of it. I demand answers. Sari-sama obviously has none, seeing as how such fantasies as I script are created entirely for purposes of narrative license.

I think, the only thing to do as a comeback is to figure this out … in song.

2+

One thought on “What, And I Cannot Stress This Enough, The Fuck

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.