October 31st, 2007

Don't Hassle the Hoff

The Bastard Son of a Hundred Maniacs - The 4-West Horror Story Spectacular: The Prequel (Part II)

The Chilling Conclusion: Halloween, 2001. Mercer Hall Dormatory. 4-West.

"But, why do I have to be the bait, guys?" Mario fretfully backed down the hall towards Eric's room with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a liter of cola in his hands.

"Because," Eric said, with Matt following behind. "We've got a plan. Don't worry, you'll be totally safe. We're gonna block the way so The Vers can't get to you."

"I still don't understand why I've got to sit alone in your room getting drunk," Mario said, turning the corner and entering Eric's domicile.

"It's the only way to bring The Vers out of hiding. He only strikes when people are drinking, and with this being Halloween and all, we figure what better time to take him down?"

"But ... can't I just -"

Eric cut him off, saying, "Look, it'll all be over soon. Now, get crackin'."

Mario proceeded to pour himself a Jack & Coke while Eric and Matt made their way to the hall just outside the door. Matt poked his head back in to say, "Keep this door locked, and whatever you do, don't open it until we say it's okay." Mario quickly did as he was told, deadbolting it and leaning his back against it, sliding down to a sitting position. He chugged the first cup and made himself another.

"OK Matt," Eric said, "I'm gonna stand next to the men's room. You watch the door and make sure the side-exit's covered." Matt nodded and assumed his bad-ass pose: legs making an upside down V, hands crossed over his groin, head at a 45-degree angle with the ground with his eyes peeking just under his downturned eyebrows. He wore the baggiest sweatpants/sweatshirt for the occasion, leaving the hood on for effect.

Eric stood at his post for what felt like a million years; the crackle of thunder and lightning roused him out of his stupor. Then he heard the rain pounding the building like an army of suicide-bombing bumblebees. Finally, from around the corner at the end of the hall - near the elevator - Eric came face-to-face with The Vers. Even in the distance, The Vers towered over the quivering Schaarminator, as tall as a door jamb, thin and lanky and completely black from head-to-toe except for the eyes and teeth. Pure white, glowing, painful to look at almost. Eric squinted, then turned it into a scowl. The Vers motioned for him to attack; Eric willingly obliged, getting up to a full sprint by the time he reached the end of the hall. With one swoop of his arm, The Vers swatted Eric against the brick wall, his head colliding, cracking, gushing blood.

Matt heard the THWOCK and the collapse of Eric's body to the ground; he ran around the corner and saw The Vers cackling laughter, slowly making his way down towards Mario. Matt lightly bounced on the balls of his feet, channeling his inner Wu-Tang. Under his breath - in his same bad-ass pose as before - he quothe: "Shame on a nigga who tries to run game on a nigga ... Shame on a nigga who tries to run game on a nigga ..." and just as The Vers was within fifteen feet and closing, Matt pulled the Glock 9 he had hidden in the waistband of his sweatpants, pointed it sideways at The Vers and yelled as loudly as he could, "WHO BUCK WILD WITH THE TRIGGA???" while unloading the entire clip into the head and torso of The Vers.

The Vers stumbled, fell backward a few feet, tried to shield himself with his arms, but was ultimately undeterred. Matt's adrenaline completely vanished when he started to hear the clicking of an empty chamber; The Vers flashed his glow-white smile. Paralyzed, Matt just stood there as The Vers snatched the Glock 9 from his hand and shoved the entire piece through his ribcage, poking his still-beating heart through the other side. Matt collapsed in a heap; The Vers turned and faced the locked door to Eric's room.


Mario was plenty tanked by the time he heard the last stand of Matt and Eric through the door; he wasn't AS petrified with fear as he was before. That all changed when The Vers smashed the solid wood door like it was rotten kindling, knocking Mario to the other side of the room.

The Vers laughed, that kind of laugh where you're convinced his innards are nothing but meal-worms and cockroaches. He advanced, slowly, and Mario did the only thing he could think of: he flung the rest of the alcohol he had in The Vers' face, kicked him where he nuts would've been, and ran like hell past him, out the door and into the hall.

"Fuck this, I'm gettin' the hell outta here," he said, making his way toward the side exit. As he opened the door, though, Nate's dead body fell from above, nearly landing on him. Mario screamed and ran back the other way, down the hall towards the elevator. He tried the other set of stairs, finding them blocked by the dead bodies of Pete and Juli, hanging bolted to the walls. As a last resort, Mario ran back the way he came, knocking furiously on Devin's door.

"Let me the fuck in! Let me in!" Mario pounded with both fists until James calmly turned the knob, then he barged in and slammed the door shut behind him.

"Devin! James! You guys gotta help me; I'm being attacked by ... what's she doing?" Mario pointed to the naked British woman Devin created, who was in the process of limbering up before the next sex romp, which was scheduled in t-minus two minutes. "Nevermind. Devin, you gotta help me! How do I kill The Vers?"

"Here," Devin said, rummaging around underneath his desk. He pulled out a mason jar full of clear liquid. "Pure alcohol. Take this, and this Zippo, douse The Vers and light him on fire. That should do the trick."

Mario took the bottle and the lighter and made it out of there just in the nick of time; the sex romp went on as scheduled and Mario wanted no part of watching that.

In the hall, Mario crept slowly towards Eric's room, assuming The Vers was still down yonder. He checked inside every open bedroom all the way down but found nothing. As he passed the men's room, he was pulled inside by two forceful hands and set down on the tile, nearly dropping the bottle and shattering the precious fuel. The Vers, angered by the dousing earlier, planned on getting his revenge slow and painfully. But, Mario was too quick for him; he unscrewed the top, flung the liquid, flicked the lighter, and threw it at The Vers' chest. He went up instantly; Mario somehow made it around him without being burned or grabbed by the writhing-in-agony creature.

Mario scuttled down the stairs as fast as he could, not hearing the alarm until he was already at the front door to the building. He stood on the field, panting, as coeds trickled out with their arms crossed, getting drenched in the downpour. Finally, he saw Devin and James and their naked British woman and went over to talk to them.

"So, you got him, huh?" Devin said.

"Looks like it," Mario said, feeling relieved.

All of a sudden, glass from the fourth floor shattered and down fell The Vers. All the drenched coeds fled screaming, leaving Mario, Devin, James, and the naked British woman. The Vers came after them, with his arms in the air. As he chased away the men, the naked British woman reached for her cricket bat, swung around behind The Vers, and crammed the whole thing up his ass. The pain and humiliation being too much for him, he ran off towards Steven's Court.

"Wow! Nice work!" Mario said.

"Yeah, he'll be crapping pancakes for a month!" Devin said.

Together, the four of them returned to Mercer Hall as cheesy 80s heavy metal music played in the background.
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