We're not that scared! vs. The Blair Witch Project

by Cloud Volpe

In October of 1994, three student filmmakers disa… Oh screw it.

In July of 1999, an independent film was released in theaters that was lauded by critics as "the scariest film ever made." Bullshit. It was chilling, but not the scariest ever made. This indie film screwed millions of hardworking drunken teenage moviegoers expecting gore and demons out of millions of dollars, despite the fact that it cost as much to make the movie as it did to buy a new Hyundai. However, its unparalleled success made it a classic, and thus subject to the most annoying string of parodies made this year. I’m not kidding; Leno, Conan, Letterman, Mad TV, SNL… you name it, they spoofed it. Even that Jenny Jones bitch got in on the act.

Well, continuing in the grand tradition of jumping on a bandwagon (<snicker>), SGDVD proudly brings you:

The Spice Bitch Project

(Warning: Plot spoilers ahead. If you haven't seen The Blair Witch Project yet and actually care, don't read on until after you've seen it. For the 99.95% of the rest of you out there, enjoy!)

(The scene opens inside the house of Heather Donahue, circa 1994. She is sitting in an armchair conversing with her co-student filmmakers: Michael C. Williams and Josh Leonard.)

Heather (passing a joint to Josh, then looking at her watch): Damn it! Where the hell are they?

Josh (taking a puff): Who?

Michael: Dude, are you stupid? We were going to go out to Maryland and shoot that lame documentary, but Heather managed to work a cross-promotional deal with those girls that sang at school. The… uh…

Heather (whining): Spice Girls!

Josh: Whoa, cool. Didja get Asia too?

Heather (whining again): No, not those Spice Girls, you stupid toker!

Josh: I still don’t get it. If they’ve got a record deal and all, then, like, why are they making a student film for us?

Heather (still whining): Because, you idiot, they said they wanted to make another movie and that everyone in Hollywood had them blacklisted! Jesus wept, you’re a moron!

Michael (for no apparent reason): Fuck you Heather!

Josh: Fuck you, Mike!

Heather: Fuck you, Josh!

(Author’s note: drag this out for an hour and you’ve got most of the movie.)

(Suddenly, the doorbell rings.)

Heather (tensely, still in a whiny voice): Oh my God. Who is that? WHO IS THAT?!

(The doorbell rings again. And again. And again and again and again, repeatedly. A giggle accompanies it, along with a profound, "Duh!")

Voice from Outside: Get her the hell away from the doorbell! Feed her a donut or something!

(Heather gets up and opens the door. Outside, all five Spice Girls are standing patiently. Ginger, Posh, and Sporty are doing their best to put on fake smiles for their new film producer, while Scary is viciously trying to shove a donut down Baby’s throat.)

Ginger: Heather, right? So nice to see you!

Heather (whining): Hi! Come in!

Posh (looking at the size of the house): My. How… cozy. Have you sprayed for rats lately, dear?

Sporty (pushing her along): Damn it, just get in there! Don’t you remember what happened when you insulted Mr. Scorcese’s house?

Posh: That was not my fault! And besides, the cement crumbled away easily thanks to the water pressure.

Heather (whining): Sit down, please. These are my associates, Josh and Michael.

Michael: Hi.

Josh: Yo.

(They all sit down.)

Scary (sniffing the air): Say, do you smell…

(Posh swats her in the back of the head.)

Heather (in as whiny a voice as possible): Now, have the four of you…

Baby: Duh!

Heather: Excuse me… five of you ever done a documentary before?

Posh: Well, we did that Spice World bit a little while ago.

Ginger: That was sort of a documentary…

Scary: Even though none of it was true…

Sporty: We didn’t even have any pregnant friends until Victoria and Mel forgot their rubbers!

(The Spice Girls all laugh amongst themselves, while Heather, Josh, and Michael sit still, not amused.)

Heather: Gosh, that’s… great. So, do you know what this is then? (She holds up a home video camera.)

Ginger: Eep!

Michael: Something wrong?

Ginger: It… uh… just reminded me of… um… someone I used to know.

Josh: Hey, wait a second! You’re the chick all over the Internet!

Ginger: Oh hell, it’s on the web now?

Josh: ‘Fraid so, hot mama.

Sporty: What an outrage! Why, I demand to know the addresses of all these sites so I can put a stop to them at once!

Heather (whining): Ahem! We have more important matters to cover! Now, all you have to do is go to Maryland, invade the lives of some poor local rednecks, and shoot a few hours’ worth of film about the legend of the Blair Witch, okay?

Posh: So we’re going to be the stars of this as well?

Michael: And the directors!

Ginger: Anything else we’ll need?

Heather (whining and rustling in her backpack): Yes. You’ll need this guide on how not to be eaten by witches, and this detailed map of the local forest where you’ll be shooting most of your film.

Scary: Check. (She looks around.) Hmm… looks like Posh is the only one who remembered to bring a purse. Give them to her to put in there, okay?

Heather (handing the book and map to Posh): Right. Now remember, do not lose these under any circumstances!

Posh: Right.

Heather: Keep them with you in a safe place.

Posh: Of course.

Heather: Make sure you know exactly where they are at all times. They could mean the difference between life and death.

Posh: I get the point! What do I look like to you, a brainless mannequin?

Josh: Well…

Michael: The only other thing you have to remember is that it doesn’t look real unless you shake the camera around a lot, like you’re having a seizure or something. In fact, make it so that anyone feint of heart who watches the tape will get physically nauseous watching the gyrations.

Heather (whining): Well, that should do it. Let me show you out.

(Michael hands the girls two video cameras as Heather opens the door for them. The five girls leave Heather’s house.)

Posh (walking past Heather’s trash can): Oh my! I think her furniture irritated my skin! (She casually tosses the book and map into the garbage can in favor of examining the back of her legs.)

(From here on, the story has been pieced together using bits of film recovered from Maryland. This is where you use your imagination for a lot of the visuals, people.)

(INT: The girls are driving to Burkittesville in the Spice Bus. Scary is driving, while Ginger I holding the camera.)

Ginger: So, this is exciting, eh? We’re going to learn about the spooky Blair Witch.

Posh: Bah. We’ll probably never even see the damn thing.

Sporty: Well, I’m certainly looking forward to it. Just us five… all alone… in the woods… miles from civilization… communing with nature… bathing nude in cold rivers…

Scary (slamming on the brakes): Wait a minute! That reminds me; who packed the sleeping bags?

Sporty: I did!

Scary: Oh Christ. That’s what I thought.

Ginger: You… did pack enough for all of us, didn’t you?

Sporty: Of course! Well… assuming all of us will be able to fit in the one sleeping bag I packed.

Posh: I think we can all squeeze in… except Emma over there. She probably can’t fit into the tent, let alone a sleeping bag.

(A flying pastry hits Posh in the side of the head.)

Baby: Duh!

Sporty: So that means you’ll sleep with me?

Posh: Well, yes, since there’s only one… Oh GOD! No! Get away from me!

Scary: We have to turn around.

Ginger: But we’re on a schedule…

Scary: Fuck the schedule! Would you rather stay awake all night wondering when you’ll be groped?

Ginger: Good point.

Scary: And turn that camera off!

(The camera promptly goes black. It resumes filming again upon a sign that says, "Burkittesville, Maryland, Pop. 1000 and rising since that fucking movie came out.")

Local Redneck: The what?

Scary (operating the camera): The Blair Witch. Ever hear of the old bitch?

Local Redneck: Oh, the Blair Witch. Ayuh, I’ve heard of her. Legend says she used to live in the forest over yonder.

Scary: So, do you think she still lives there?

Local Redneck: Well, that depends. You meddling trespassers heading over that way?

Scary: Yes, probably.

Local Redneck: Well then, I hope the bitch is still around.

(And another local is asked questions…)

Local Mom: The Blair Witch… Oh of course I’ve heard the legend.

Posh (holding the camera this time around): Oh joy. Won’t you please regale us with it. (Her voice is laced with sarcasm.)

Local Mom (adjusting the young, impressionable child in her arms): Well, the story I’ve heard says that the witch liked to… (She goes on for a bit on a rather disgusting story about the Blair Witch.) …his genitals with a melon baller. And finally, she ate most of the corpse, then buried it in her backyard.

(The child picks his nose.)

Posh: My, what a lovely story. And amazingly, you had no qualm relaying such a gruesome tale in front of your son.

Local Mom: Oh, no. My son is a very strong-willed little boy. Aren’t you, sweetie? (She bounces her son up and down for effect.) There’s nothing I don’t allow him to hear… (whispering) except when I find out the store is sold out of Pokémon cards.

Boy: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! (He begins bawling his eyes out.)

Local Mom: No! Oh no, honey, Mommy didn’t mean what she said! (He is still crying.) Mommy was just talking to the nice lady! (Still more crying.) Okay, what if Mommy buys you a Pikachu? (His tears dry up instantly.)

(There are a few more scenes of local yokels telling various stories about the Blair Witch. Then…)

Scary: This looks like the place.

(The camera, held by Sporty, pans out the bus window to reveal the vehicle pulling up to a trailer park.)

Posh: A trailer park in this lovely, upscale city! Who would have thought?

Sporty: And this is where the crazy woman is supposed to live?

Ginger: Right, that’s her.

(A few minutes later, a gaunt, middle-aged woman in a robe is standing outside the trailer talking to the girls.)

Crazy Woman: Oh yes, I seen the Blair Witch.

Sporty: What did she look like?

Crazy Woman: Well… I was only a little girl then, but I remember that she was very tall… and I could see under her shirt… she had a body covered in this thick, dark hair. Almost like horse’s hair.

Posh: Sounds like Ginger before her bikini wax.

Ginger: Bollocks!

(The camera’s microphone picks up the sound of a severe beating to the far left.)

Sporty: Well, thank you. You’ve been quite helpful.

Crazy Woman: No problem. (to Posh and Ginger): Hey! Not on my lilies!

(The camera goes dark again, and is restarted in the Spice Girls’ hotel room. Actually, it is restarted by accident. Baby saw it sitting on a chair and decided to push a few of the alluring buttons.)

Ginger (lying on the bed, bandaging scratches on her arm): Bloody rose bushes…

Scary: Well, I’d say that went well.

Posh: How much footage do you suppose we have?

Sporty: Well, we got the local sheriff, the general store manager, the local pastor…

Posh: No, I meant of me.

Ginger: What I’d like to know is how a town set this far in the middle of nowhere only has one room available in their hotel.

Sporty (feigning innocence): Oh, um, it, uh… what an odd coincidence! (She glances at her wrist.) Oh, look at the time! Time for my shower. Anyone care to join me?

Scary: If it’s all the same to you, I’ll just borrow some cash for the cigarette machine down the hall.

Sporty: Um… I don’t have any extra cash.

Posh: What?

Sporty: I used it to bri… er… tip… the desk clerk.

Scary: Oh, lovely.

(Sporty shuffles off to the shower.)

Ginger: Well, we might as well get some rest. We have to get up early tomorrow.

Posh: Yeah, sweet dreams… especially with her in the other room. (She motions to the bathroom.)

Scary: I’ll fix that. (She grabs a key from the desk.) This should do it.

Ginger: You’re going to lock her in?

Scary: Oh, I hadn’t though of that. But there is this… (She begins waving the shiny key around in the air. Baby lifts her head up from the pound cake she is currently devouring and watches the key glisten in the soft lamplight of the room.) Here, Emma Emma Emma!

(Baby rushes to her feet and charges headfirst for Scary. Scary, however, steps out of the way, and Baby’s head bangs against the door with a dull thud, knocking her out cold. Her body slumps up against the bathroom door.)

Sporty (from inside): I’m coming out now! You all want to see what I bought at Victoria’s Secret last week, don’t you? (She turns the knob and pushes the door, but it does not budge. Baby is essentially acting as a massive human doorstop.) Oh damn.

Ginger: Hey, who left the camera on?

(She walks over and turns the camera off.)

(The film resumes with the bus pulling up to the side of a road by a large forest. Ginger is holding the camera.)

Ginger: Well, I’d say this looks like a nice spot to abandon our vehicle.

Scary (driving): Fine, I’ll stop here.

(They all exit the bus and grab a few backpacks, along with the extra camera, and walk into the forest.)

Baby: Tee hee hee!

Posh: She’s right! This whole area is rather… mesmerizing. Ah, the beauty of nature.

Sporty (staring at Ginger’s chest): Oh yeah, nature’s awesome.

Scary (talking to the camera): Okay, where’s our first stop?

Ginger: Don’t ask me. Posh has the map.

Posh: I… uh… I gave it to Baby!

Baby: Duh?

Scary: Okay Emma, hand me the map.

Baby (shaking her head): Duh! Duhhhh!

Scary: Stop lying! If Victoria says you have the map, then she must be telling the truth.

(Baby continues shaking her head.)

Sporty: This is getting us nowhere…

Scary: Baby, that’s enough! We don’t need your stupid map anyway! If you’re going to be so immature about this, you’re going to have to go sit in the bus!

Baby: Du…

Scary: No buts about it! Go! (She points towards the road.)

Baby: Hmph! (She huffs and walks away.)

Posh: Now that that’s all settled, which way do we go?

Ginger: We should go north.

Sporty: Are you sure?

Ginger: Of course I’m sure! Who needs a map? I have it all in my head.

(They begin walking away. As they do, the sound of a large truck beeping its horn follows from the highway behind them, followed by a mushy splat as it plows into Baby, who was crossing the street.)

(Meanwhile, the crew has gotten to a river and begun filming.)

Ginger (shaking the camera as she searches her backpack): Damn, where is that book? Something important happened here!

Sporty (grabbing the other camera): Let me try it. I might be able to improvise. (She clears her throat and points the camera at the rocky shore of the river.) Legend has it that… uh… two… women were found here one fateful day back in… oh… 1989. A few hunters found them stripped naked and clawing at each other, apparently under the influence of some sort of enchantress’s spell. As the hunters watched, these two women beat each other to death in an orgy of blood and sexual frustration. When the hunters returned with help, both bodies were gone, never to be seen again. Could the Blair Witch have done this?

(She switches the camera off. The other girls stare on in amazement.)

Scary: Melanie… that… was amazing!

Posh: I’m chilled to the bone! Brilliant!

Sporty: You really think so? (She reaches out to hug Scary.)

Scary: Don’t touch me.

Sporty: Right.

Posh: Oh, look at the time. Guess we should head back to the bus now, right?

Ginger: Good idea. It’s this way.

(She begins walking west.)

Scary: Are you sure? I thought we came from the south.

Ginger: Oh… right. But see, this way is faster… because we came from a sort of roundabout way to get here in the first place.

Sporty: I don’t understand…

Posh: Oh just shut up and walk.

(The walk on. Hours later…)

Scary: Where the hell are we? None of this looks familiar.

Ginger: I bloody told you! We’re going back to the bus using the most direct route!

Posh: Ouch!

Scary & Ginger: What?

Posh: I just got hit by a stone!

(Everyone looks at Sporty, who is carrying an armful of small rocks and grinning sheepishly.)

Sporty: Heh… sorry. There were just these little piles of rocks all over the ground, and they looked like they would be perfect slugs, you know?

Ginger: Look, just throw all the stupid rocks you find into the bushes. No sense in anyone getting hurt because of them. Now let’s keep moving.

Posh: Would you turn that damn camera off? I don’t want anyone to see what I look like when the makeup wears off.

(The camera goes black, then resumes inside the Spice Girls’ tent at night. They are all lying near each other, talking.)

Ginger: We’ll hit the road early tomorrow morning, I’m sure. In the meantime, we can enjoy the peaceful sounds of nature.

Scary: Fine by me. It’s quite comfortable out here.

Sporty (watching the others): I need a cold shower.

Posh: Shh! I think I hear an owl!

(Sure enough, an owl hoots in the distance.)

Sporty: I hear a raccoon!

(On cue, a raccoon chirps [or whatever you call that noise they make] merrily as it shuffles by.)

Ginger: I hear the sounds of children being slaughtered!

(In the distance, children’s voices begin screaming in agony for help.)

Scary: Wow. It sounds so real.

Ginger: Yes, it’s quite amazing, the sounds the wind can produce. Oh well, goodnight all.

Scary, Sporty, & Posh: Goodnight.

(Ginger turns the camera off.)

(The next morning, the camera turns on bright and early as Ginger opens up the tent… and falls flat on her face.)

Ginger: Fuck me!

Sporty (leaping from her sleeping bag): Now?

Ginger: No! I meant I just tripped and it hurt like hell!

Scary (running out of the tent): What happened?

Ginger: Some thoughtless bitch raccoon left a pile of rocks outside the tent flap last night!

Posh: Oh my. Those little rascals.

Ginger (handing the camera to Scary): Here, take this. I think I saw their den a few meters that way. (She grabs a large tree branch and walks away.)

(Scary aims the camera at the pile of rocks on the ground.)

Scary: Smart little devils too. I never realized they knew how to carry rocks that large and arrange them in a pile.

(To the camera’s right, there is the sound of some muffled thumping and a few high-pitched curses. Soon, Ginger comes walking back, the limb in her hand broken on one end.)

Ginger: Wow, they’re much easier to get in the daylight when they’re asleep.

Sporty: So which way are we going today?

Ginger: The same way we’ve been going: North. We’ll make it back to the bus by noon, I’m sure of it.

(Later, as the group comes upon a grove of trees…)

Sporty: Guys? Do you think these little hanging stick figures are important?

Scary: Shut up and keep walking!

Sporty (removing a stick figure hanging by a string from a tree): Aren’t they strange? Perhaps we should stop and film them…

Posh (irritated, walking over to Sporty): Stop and film them? (She snatches the stick figure from Sporty’s hand, snaps it in half, and tosses it on the ground.) There.

Sporty: But don’t you think…

Ginger (walking over to the broken figure on the ground): Here’s what we think of your little discovery, bitch. (She crouches down and proceeds to urinate upon the stick figure, a la that time Scary and Ginger pissed in the corner of a museum. It really happened! –Cloud) Any questions?

Sporty: Just one… could you do that again?

Ginger (grabbing Sporty by the ear and pulling): Let’s go. I told you, if we keep walking Southwest, we’ll hit the bus in no time.

(That night in the tent…)

Posh (choking Ginger): You filthy bitch! You said you knew where we were going! I had a hair appointment tomorrow morning, God damn it!

Scary (pushing Posh aside): Victoria, stop that! (She grabs Ginger’s throat.) You’re doing it all wrong. You have to apply pressure to the larynx, like this. (She begins yelling.) You stupid whore! I haven’t had a fix in a few hours thanks to you!

Sporty: Hey, let me in there! That frigging bitch screwed up my schedule too! (Scary moves aside while Sporty straddles Ginger and begins slapping her across the face.) Bitch! Who’s your daddy, bitch?! Who’s your daddy?!

Ginger (wheezing): Wait, did you hear that?

Sporty: What?

Ginger: Sounded like more kids screaming… only closer this time.

Scary: Eep! It’s not the Blair Witch, is it?

Ginger: Shh!

(The sound of children crying for help grows nearer, until suddenly, the very sides of the tent are being assaulted by some unseen hands.)

Posh: Oh, nice try Ginger. Trying to scare us with your little tricks.

Ginger: Me? I’m sitting in here with you, you thick bitch? How could I be doing that?

(As if puzzled, the scratches outside pause for a moment, then resume even more loudly.)

Sporty: Run!

(The four girls bolt out of the tent. Ginger runs in her own direction, while Scary, armed with the camera, follows Sporty and Posh.)

Posh (screaming and point off-camera): Oh my God! What the fuck is that? What the FUCK IS THAT?!

Sporty (yelling): Whatever it is, DO NOT get it on tape! I repeat, do NOT even AIM the camera at it!

(They continue running through the dark forest, afraid for their lives.)


Ginger (stopping to catch her breath): Whew! I think I’m safe now! (Suddenly, the bushes around her begin rustling.) Who’s there? (More rustling, and some chirping.) Show yourselves! (From out of the bushes on all sides of Ginger, a pack of pissed-off raccoons surrounds her.) Oh shit. (The furry creatures leap for Ginger, teeth and claws bared.)

(On the other side of the forest…)

Scary (hearing Ginger’s screams for help): Oh no! The Blair Witch must have gotten her! Poor Ginger!

Sporty: I’ve got dibs on her stuff!

Posh: Damn!

(The girls slowly make their way back to the tent. All of Posh’s belongings are scattered around the ground.)

Sporty: Well, at least my shit is safe!

Posh: Fuck! Who did this to my things?

Scary: I would have guessed Ginger, except that the harlot is dead.

Posh (picking up a long, cylindrical object with a switch and brushing leaves off of it): Shit! It’s got poison ivy all over it! It’ll itch like mad if I use it now!

Sporty: So what do we do now?

Posh (picking a leather miniskirt off the ground and frowning): As much as I hate to admit it, we should do what the late bitch wanted… we should keep walking east. We’ll get to the bus soon.

(Later that afternoon…)

Scary: It’s not the same log!

Sporty: It’s got bloody holes in the EXACT same spots! Even the birds perched upon it are the same ones from when we passed it before!

Scary: …The birds might have relatives in this part! And the holes are definitely smaller on this log! We’re going the right way!

Sporty: Fuck you, Mel!

Posh: Fuck you, Melanie!

Scary: Fuck you, Victoria!

(Scary begins crying at everything that has gone wrong.)

Posh: What is this? Crying? Didn’t you come out here to make movies, Mel? (She moves to within inches of Scary’s face.) Come on, Mel. Let’s make movies. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?

Sporty: Hey, I’ll make some movies.

Posh & Scary: Shut up!

Sporty: Sorry.

(Posh wanders off to sit on the grass and mumble to herself, turning the camera off as she goes.)

(The camera turns on in the middle of the night…)

Scary (fumbling to get a grip on the camera hastily): What the hell was that?

Sporty: It wasn’t my hand, I swear!

Scary: No, that noise! (She pauses to listen.) Where’s Victoria?

Sporty: She was here earlier…

(Suddenly, Posh’s screams for help can be heard coming from the darkness of the forest.)

Scary (yelling): Posh, are you out there?!

Sporty (come on, you all knew this line was coming…): POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!


(In the distance, a faint scream for help can be heard.)

Posh’s Voice (very faintly): I can’t find my makeup!

(The next morning arrives, with no sign of Posh. Scary wakes up, turns on the camera, and steps outside. Sitting at the base of the tent entrance is a bundle of twigs tied together with rope.)

Scary: Oh my… Melanie!

Sporty (waking up inside the tent): What now? Another corpse?

Scary: No, come see! Quickly!

(Sporty rushes to the tent flap.)

Sporty: What?

Scary: It’s the biggest joint ever made!

Sporty: No it’s not! Untie it… it looks like there’s something inside.

(Scary sets the camera down and slowly unties the bundle. She lifts off the top sticks, and underneath is a small piece of polyester wrapped up neatly. Shaking, Scary unfolds the clothing, to discover...)

Scary: Oh my GOD! (She points the camera away before anyone watching the videotape can see what it is.) It’s horrible!

Sporty (pointing): Oh no! Is that a…

Scary (aiming the camera back at an angle so that Sporty’s hand is blocking whatever is in the sticks): Yes, it is!

Sporty: How do you suppose that got pulled out?

Scary: Probably easier compared to how those got pulled out! (She points to something herself, obscuring it completely from the camera of course.)

Sporty: Oh, disgusting! We should turn away from this instantly, and never look upon it again!

Scary: Yes! Let’s get our stuff and see if we can find Victoria!


(They continue walking on and on until night falls. Soon, screams from the vanished Posh are surrounding Scary and Sporty again.)

Scary: Where the bloody hell is she yelling from?

Sporty: I don’t know, but maybe whoever lives in that house knows!

(She points to an old, broken-down cabin in the distance, which was conveniently not there before.)

Scary: Ah a cabin! At least it looks like a safe place to spend the night.

(A bolt of lightning peels across the cloudless sky, a swarm of bats flies overheard despite the fact that bats are supposed to be in hibernation in October, and steam rises from the house in the shape of evil eyes and a hideous grinning mouth.)

Sporty: Yep, perfectly safe. Let’s go inside!

(The duo enters the house, while Posh’s screams seem to be even closer than before…)

Scary: Posh? Posh, are you in there?


Scary: Oh shut up with the yelling, would you? Everyone gets it by now.

Sporty: Did you hear that?

Scary: What?

Sporty: Sounded like a voice from upstairs demanding a bottle of mineral water.

Scary: POSH!

(The two of them charge upstairs. All along the walls are children’s handprints and various arcane words scribbled on the walls.)

Sporty: This place needs an interior decorator badly.

Scary: Wait, what was that?

Sporty: Where?

Scary: Downstairs! I heard her say something about a noose clashing with her lipstick!



(Sporty, being the faster, more well-toned and physically fit Spice Girl, rushes down the stairway at a speed faster than Scary can accommodate. She charges into the basement…)

Sporty: Posh? You down here? And of so, are you restrained? Hello? Po…


Scary (running down the stairway shortly thereafter): Posh? Posh? (She sees Sporty standing in the corner.) Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing? What, did some child draw a naked set of tits on that wall? Get back here and help me look for…


(Meanwhile, back at Heather’s house…)

Heather (whining): Damn it! Where the fuck are those girls? They were supposed to be back here with our tape a couple days ago!

Michael: Well, you know the old saying…

Josh: "Don’t eat the yellow snow"?

Michael: No, you dickwad. "If you want something done right, do it yourself."

Heather (whining): Can you guys get us two more cameras and some film?

Josh: Yeah, no problem man.

Michael: Yeah, we’ll be able to leave, like, tomorrow morning.

Heather (whining): All right! Burkittesville, here we come!



Afterword: Watch the film to see the fates of Heather, Michael, and Josh. And yes, I really did like the movie quite a bit! Still doesn't mean I can't make fun of it though. :)


Trademark and copyright 1999, CloudVader Productions. Do not reproduce without giving the author, Cloud Volpe, due credit.

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