|
Post by melcaroni on Mar 31, 2016 20:20:15 GMT
Episode Title: "Sick Day"
Plot: The gang finds out from the doctor that they've all contracted terminal Deathitis, which will grow progressively worse with time. They have only a week left before they succumb to it and die painfully. How will they spend their final days? Tune in to find out!
Starting Location: The Hospital, where our heroes have just been told of their illness.
|
|
|
Post by ramenigma on Apr 1, 2016 1:05:55 GMT
[Episode 1 -Scene 1-]
Location: Hospital The main characters have just been told that they all have chronic hypercancebetes. I am Wilhelm is in the corner. This is his cue.
Wilhelm: *presses button*
SFX: [LAUGH TRACK]
Wilhelm nails that shit. The tone and mood for this scene is set. Cue music.
Wilhelm: *presses button*
Music: Walking on Sunshine (Katrina and the Waves, 1983.)
This is my Wilhelm's life now. Pressing buttons. Making sounds. This is it. Life. Death. All of it's meaningless. All that matters is the sound of canned laughter.
This is a comedy show.
|
|
|
Post by melcaroni on Apr 1, 2016 1:48:34 GMT
The triumphant trumpets and screaming vocals of Katrina and the Waves echoed through the tiny, porcelain storage locker that passed for a hospital room. The song was a hit back in the 80s and reached No. 4 in Australia, No. 9 in the United States, and No. 8 in the United Kingdom. It was the Waves' first U.S. top 40 hit, and their biggest success in the United Kingdom until "Love Shine a Light" (1997).
These were all facts that Pinhead happened to know about the song, but all fact and logic disappeared from his brain as the song dug deep into his not-quite ears and into the recesses of his mind, digging into images long forgotten-- A memory, long repressed; sights of women clad in designer clothing, smiling and dancing while superimposed text preached of excellent deals and affordable prices-- He could not stop it. The memory was too strong and like a raging bull with ten tons of dynamite up its ass it burst forth--
THE JC PENNY AD.
"Oh great," Pinhead muttered. "Now I'm gonna die AND miss out on the summer Fuck You sale down at JC Penny, where you can get stylish designer clothes from all the hottest brands at barely affordable prices!"
Suddenly, a thought popped into his camo-green frag grenade head.
"Well, we're gonna die anyways," He posited, looking at his fellow terminees, "I say we go fuck up JC Penny's."
|
|
|
Post by ramenigma on Apr 1, 2016 1:54:35 GMT
SFX: A dying whale
|
|
|
Post by melcaroni on Apr 1, 2016 2:00:18 GMT
The boy looked impressed by the horrific wail of agony.
"That was a very good Adam Sandler impression," Pinhead remarked, stroking his smooth plastic casing. "Now that I think about it... We should kill Adam Sandler too."
The boy flipped open his trusty Occult Manual, tore out a random page, and clicked open a pen.
"I'm just gonna start making a list right here," He said, scrawling down "JC Penny" and "Adam Sandler" onto the scrap paper. "Just throw whatever out; If I'm going down, so is everyone else."
|
|
|
Post by DreadLasagnaArchduke on Apr 2, 2016 3:28:40 GMT
"Deadly illness?!" Lysandra exclaimed, taking a puff of her cigar. One couldn't exactly be sure how she was able to smoke and drink, as she never took off her mask and didn't seem to have any holes in it, but she managed to do it nonetheless.
"Can't imagine how that could have happened. Anyway, down to business. Gotta get rid of The MafiaTM, that buncha bastards. And the trombone, while we're at it. Once we're done with that, I propose blackjack and hookers. All in agreement?" she said, looking around at the others.
|
|
|
Post by ramenigma on Apr 2, 2016 9:41:17 GMT
Wilhelm presses a button. Then another. And then more and more at a fast rate. Maybe he's doing it out of frustration, maybe he's doing it because he likes where it's going. With the paint can you can't really tell, can you?
SFX: Lets! SFX: Skill!!! SFX: Press SFX: EEEEEEEEEEEEEE- SFX: Dent SFX: OH!!!! SFX: Baaaaaa *sheep bleating* SFX: Ma! *gurgle*
He stops and smacks the box, and then tries pressing a few more buttons.
SFX: ASS! SFX: ASS! SFX: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE- SFX: Neeeeeigh! *horse noises* SFX: Shun! SFX: RULES, YO!!! *guitar solo*
|
|
|
Post by melcaroni on Apr 2, 2016 10:37:10 GMT
"I'm glad you feel that way, Wilhelm."
Pinhead's pen finished crawling across the page as he noted his companions' words.
"Press... E.... Dent..." He muttered, then finally finished, holding up the paper proudly.
"Okay, so," The boy began, reading off the list, "We're gonna kill JC Penny, Adam Sandler, The MafiaTM, a bunch of trombones, and Pressie Dentobama. That cool with everyone? Everyone fine with assassinating a bunch of people because we're just gonna die anyways? Is this my life now?"
|
|
|
Post by ramenigma on Apr 13, 2016 7:39:44 GMT
Wilhelm nods in agreement. Fishing around in his cloak, he pulls out a huge goddamn gun. Then, he pistol whips the soundbox as if to say "lets roll" because he's very cool. And that's canon.
BGM: Fuck The Police [KidzBop Cover]
|
|
|
Post by melcaroni on Apr 13, 2016 9:21:16 GMT
Pinhead nods back, his resolve steeled by Wilhelm's beautiful score. He wasn't going to live in a world where Adam Sandler got to put out Jack and Fucking Jill and then receive no punishment. I mean, he'd never SEEN Jack and Jill, but the point stands.
"Okay, that's done. Now. We need a car of some sort. I'm a fucking kid and I can't drive shit."
This was indeed true. Where would our heroes find a vehicle to embark on their noble quest?
|
|
|
Post by The Agnolotti Raichu on Apr 13, 2016 9:29:32 GMT
Grull puts a hand to his gravelly stubble and looked deep in thought. He holds this position for about thirty seconds, quietly mumbling the the names his "son" had just mentioned. Finally, as if in a state of eureka, Grull slams one of his large fists into an open palm.
"Grull no know who those are." He looks to his hospital bed, which is a bit too small for him and can barely hold his weight. He then picks up and eats his pillow in two bites. "Mmm! Lots of fiber! Grull no know what 'car' is... Hmm..." Grull then picks up an IV stand and starts swinging it around like a club. Chaos ensues.
"What is 'car?' "
|
|
|
Post by ramenigma on Apr 13, 2016 11:24:25 GMT
"I HEARD YOU HUMAN f***ERS WERE KILLING MORTIES?!"
A rip between reality broke out in the middle of the doctors office, and tentacles shot out of the void, decapitating the doctor who was standing in the room and not saying anything. This triggered the laugh track, as the f***ing eldritch horror that was Kuthlax burst forth from nothingness like it was some kind of goddamn universe baby being delivered. It sorta floated above the ground, it's form bending as it touched the ceiling from it's massive height.
"I always knew you degenerate oxygen-breathers, that's a truth so it's not a slur BY THE WAY, would come around one day! Kuthlaxdamn it took a long time though! A lot of your limited, limited time. Filthy goddamn morties. Anyway, that's the second best news I've heard today! The first being you've all contracted hyper-sars or some human bullshit. You know what Kuthlax calls a disease? Life. That's a f***ing terminal disease if you ever had one. Anyway, congrats! You're all going to die, AND you've finally got it through your dumb human skulls to waste some food-eating sons of bitches once and for all. Clean up the universal species, as it were. Finish what eldritch hitler started. Nice!"
It used it's tentacles to do the Kuthlax equivalent of waving finger guns in approval.
"Since you're getting off your lazy assholes, which are disgusting by the way why the f*** does your species shit at all instead of converting everything into pure energy, and are planning to use your filthy meatsacks to make reality great again (tm), I'll cut you a deal! No need for a car, old granKuthlax has something ever better."
Using it's tentacles, it ripped apart the hole in space even wider, revealing a burning pit of screams and misery, something incomprehensible, all set to a swirling vortex beyond the human realm of imagination.
"Climb in, and I'll rip us out wherever you need to go!"
It paused.
"Just don't let the fucking orange guy touch me. I don't want to get orange disease."
|
|
|
Post by melcaroni on Apr 13, 2016 11:53:50 GMT
"Oh f***, it's Granddad." Pinhead said in half-surprise. He'd always been half-fascinated and half-annoyed by his so-called Grandfather, a sentiment that was wholly ignored by the timeless old one. He was like Chthullu mixed with Donald Trump, except not quite as horrible.
A portal to anywhere posed a great and intriguing possibility. If they were gonna take out these assholes, then first they were gonna need some weapons. And through a portal of dimensions like that...
Pinhead's glasses gleamed with excitement, and he quickly began rifling through his book. What's the coolest, sickest, most destructive weapon he could find? Excalibur? Laevateinn? Mjolnir? Caldabolg!? The Master Sword!?
"Yo Granddad," Pinhead said, lifting the book up, "We're gonna need some sick-ass weapons if we're gonna do this. Is there like, an inter-dimensional armory or some shit we can raid?"
|
|
|
Post by ramenigma on Apr 13, 2016 12:12:48 GMT
"First off, don't call me that again, smaller human. Secondly, yeah. I could set you up with something like that. I know EXACTLY what you need. Lemme just..."
With a screech, Kuthlax's head span around like it was in a blender, then it whipped it's tentacles at the air and tore open a seperate hole in reality. What wonders lie beyond this spacial rift?! Where could it take them!? The vaults of avalon, perhaps? The holy grail? The heavenly cache of unlimited blade works?!
No, actually. It was a gateway to Enrico Hernadez's gunshop down the street. Speaking of Enrico, the poor guy was having some kind of panic attack.
"Holy shit! It's one of them f***in' monsters again! Shit! Shit shit shit!"
Enrico cursed as he picked up his trusty Remington 870 and loaded it, keeping his aim steadily pointing the barrel at-
With a sickening crunch, a tentacle ripped through Enrico's face and pinned his bloody corpse to the gunshop wall. In the process, Enrico's head was turned into something very much resembling the result of a morbidly obese man sitting on a box of jelly donuts. In response, Kuthlax ripped his tentacle from the gaping hole and whipped it wildly around the room, flailing it about like a snake at a rave.
"OH f*** f*** f*** f*** f***! I FORGOT HUMAN JUICE WAS A THING! AW SHIT! IT'S NOT COMING OFF! OH GROSS, GROSS, GROSS... SO f***ING... ICK! SHITDAMN HUMAN NECTAR! DISGUSTING! f***!"
Kuthlax cursed, splattering blood across the store in a blind panic. Eventually, it settled for simply ripping the offending tentacle off and growing a new one in it's place. The new tentacle sprouted forth almost instantly, covered in a thick "cleansing" slime that dripped onto the floor and burned through the concrete.
"Phew... That was a close one. Good thing that was just my 31st baby tentacle. If it was a little older, well, that'd be a problem."
Kuthlax wiped the non-existent perspiration from it's non-existent brow.
"Anyway, help yourself. Go get a glock or something. Hell if I know what shitty, primitive weapons they make for non-tentacled beings."
|
|
|
Post by melcaroni on Apr 13, 2016 14:19:18 GMT
"ENRICO!!! NOOOOOO!!"
A cry of sorrow and agony rang out through the shop, as a middle-aged man by the name of Gary Stuart ran towards what was left of his fallen friend, with tears streaming down his face and his mouth agape in horror.
"You maniacs!!" He screamed, clutching the bloody paste of his former friend, his tears staining the floor. "What did he do to deserve this!?"
In his heart of hearts, Gary knew that there was nothing he could do-- That the unholy sight he'd just witnessed should make any sane man rip out his brain stem and skip rope with it. But Gary Reginald Stuart was no ordinary man.
For all his life, he'd worked hard, gotten all the right things, been the good, trusted son and eventually father that his family needed. He'd fought in The War, alongside Enrico. He'd played varsity league sports, and trained in 1600 forms of martial arts. And then he turned 12. Needless to say, Gary Stuart was a man willing to do anything for home and country. He didn't know what sort of mad, unholy being had ripped apart reality to kill his friend. But he knew that by god, he was going to fucking nuke it.
Still clutched in Enrico's hands was his trusted weapon-- The Remington 870 that had been with him ever since Enrico had first got it at age 5. It had been his best man at his wedding, and his first date to prom. He'd done unspeakable things to that shotgun. They were closer than lovers. Gary decided he'd need to wash his hands thoroughly after what came next.
Steeling his resolve, Gary took the gun, making a mental note to sear his hands off later, and took aim at the beast through the portal. Most men would have pissed their own soul out their asshole. But Gary Motherfucking Stuart was NOT MOST MEN.
"HEAR ME, DEMON!" Gary declared, pumping the shotgun, "I don't know what you are, or why you've murdered my friend! If you're looking for souls, he was Hispanic, he doesn't have any. But I can tell you this! I have a very particular set of skills, skills that make me a nightmare for communists and demons like you. If you leave this dimension now, that will be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't, I will look for you. I will find you.
And I will sue you."
|
|