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Another God Forsaken Teen Movie At a Camp With An Equally Quirky Subtitle or A.G.F.T.M.A.a.C.W.A.E.Q.S. for Short... Wait now it would technically make the acronym-
Another God Forsaken Teen Movie At a Camp With An Equally Quirky Subtitle or A.G.F.T.M.A.a.C.W.A.E.Q.S. for Short... Wait now it would technically make the acronym-
The Year was 198X, a time of being in the year 198X and doing things associated with being in that time period like; sport, the big game, prom, dancing to [copyrighted song] and mall. But unlike other days where we’d be schooling and malling, our parents shipped us off to Camp Necronomicon, where we’re expected to do things like camp, which is the dumbest name for an activity ever.
Nonetheless you’re excited to see what exciting things could possibly await you at-
“Alright sons of blubbers, my name is counselor Rubin, if you talk to me outside of this conversation I’ll smack you so silly you’ll be praying for death,” the counselor says half drunkenly before going on to get another beer.
“But sir-” a camper tries to say but is immediately cut off.
“Can’t hear you! ‘M… No shirt!” the counselor slurs out without halting his exit.
Well he seemed… Nice..? With nothing else to do, you all introduce yourselves and your single character trait.
“[_________], character who will survive into the next movie,” You say because there is nothing else written in your character description.
“I’m Carrie, croutons are my alcohol,” she introduces herself with the cadence of an AA meeting.
“The name’s Tim, and I like girls,” Tim says convincingly.
“Hi, I’m Joan, girl-” She barely gets out before-
“And I’m Steve,” Steve said steveingly.
“What’s your one character trait?” Carrie asked.
“I do Steve,” said Steve.
“God I wish that were me…” Tim said.
“What?” Asked Joan?
“NO!!!” Tim screams at Joan, less convincingly.
Now that introductions are out of the way, you can now camp! And by God, you’ll camp harder than anyone has ever camped before!
It turns out making 50 s’mores at once while learning about nature causes forest fires… Smokey would be severely disappointed if he wasn’t burning into a sad, preventable crisp.
“Remember kids; only YOU can prevent forest fir- AHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”, the bear's last words echoing through your head.
“You killed Smokey the bear…” Claire said in shock.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t written with foresight-” You try to defend yourself. You can’t, manslaughterer.
She falls to her knees, curling up on the ground.
“I wanted to be the one to kill Smokey! It was supposed to be me!” Claire screams, tears filling her eyes.
“I’m… Sorry?” You apologize. You ruined a girl's childhood dream, you monster. At least McGruff the Crime Dog is still ripe for the taking.
By contrast, arts and crafts went significantly better with Joan, she made a paper crane, you made a paper foreman to man the paper crane.
“Look at them. They look so wonderful together…” Joan said happily.
Sure…
Tim was very insistent on a hike, not that it mattered due to your s’more motivated atrocities. Its ashen color obscures the geography of the terrain. Except for Smokey, Smokey is still on fire. Tim tries to show how cool and manly he is by splitting an ashen gray log with his bare hands, but burns his hand in the process of grabbing a smoldering log.
“You good?” You ask .
“I’m fine! Just a little warmer than I expected!” Tim exclaims.
“Hot enough to yell ‘Yowie’?” You raise your brow.
“Shut the Hell up!” He huffs before walking away.
You have just 1 man left to hang out with- The coolest man-
“Hey Steve, you wanna do anything?” You ask excitedly
“Nah,” said Steve.
You spent what felt like days basking in the presence of Steve.
Wow, you hung out with everyone, I wonder how much time you have left of your week long trip-
Well you at least had an eventful day… Isn’t that right inconspicuous masked sombrero bearing person holding a bloody body bag?
Wait a minute…
Carrie What The Fuck!?
Carrie What The Fuck!?
T: “Carrie what the fuck!?”
C: “What?”
T: “He’s d-dead! Y-you killed him!”
C: “... I’m not seeing how that’s my problem…”
T: “Why are you always like this? How do you not feel a tinge of sympathy for your actions!”
C: “Don’t get yourself all bent up over nothing Tom! It’s fine!”
T: “There’s a man lying dead on our floor Carrie! W-why would you assume that’s fine!?”
C: “You’ve paid for half our rent for the last 10 years, after the smokey bear incident I thought you’d take the hint..”
T: “You’re insane!”
C: “You’re thick as fuck!”
T: “Don’t bring my ass into this!”
C: “Don’t bring my brain into this!”
T: “Why would you kill this man!?”
C: “Croutons.”
T: “C-Croutons!?”
C: “Yes.”
T: “You killed this man over croutons!?”
C: “He had it coming!”
T: “He had a family!”
C: “And now he has a bullet in his temple..”
T: “Jesus, fuck!”
C: “...”
T: “...”
C: “(munch munch) You know- He kind of looks like our landlord..”
T: “Carrie-”
C: “(munch munch) Yeah?”
T: “What the fuck are you eating…?”
C: “Emergency croutons. (munch)”
T: “...”
C: “I have an excess supply Tim.”
T: “You have a list of problems!”
C: “Silence croutonless Bitch wife!”
T: “That is uncalled for-”
C: “Crouton deprived manlet!”
T: “Carrie-”
C: “He crou on my ton till I-”
T: “I’ve called the police Carrie! You are going to jail!”
C: “Wow… Just- Wow… After all I’ve done for you-”
T: “You’ve done nothing but blow our rent on a salad topper and cry yourself to sleep over not being able to kill smokey bear! And now you killed another man!”
C: “Smokey had it fucking coming! It was supposed to be me! I was supposed to kill him!”
T: “You were supposed to get therapy…”
C: “Well maybe if it was me who killed him, maybe I wouldn’t need your ‘therapy…’!”
T: “You still would…”
C: “Don’t act like you’re any better!”
T: “I don’t kill people!”
C: “But you hate women!”
T: “I’m gay!”
C: “Oh! So you can love men but I can’t love croutons? I see how it is!”
T: “Those are completely unrelated!”
C: “Wow… Actual homophobia-”
T: “I’M THE ONLY GAY PERSON HERE!”
C: “Hm…”
T: “...”
C: “(munch munch) For shame…”
I Hate My Coworker
I Hate My Coworker
Connor fastened his tie while walking down the hall, his hands clenched a record of the last week’s work culture, he had to get this off his chest. He opened a dull gray door into a small room with a desk nearly three-quarters of its length, before him sat the head of human resources.
“Connor,” the woman said in a forced tone of enthusiasm, “you’re later than expected.”
Connor slammed the papers down on her desk, readying a conversation that has happened many times before,
“Claire, we need to talk about Oswald, the new hire.”
The woman furrowed her brow in a monotonous sense of deja vu,
“Let me guess,” she began “there’s something ‘off’ about him?”
Connor took a seat and leaned forward.
“Haven’t you noticed the office culture shift ever since he started?” he pondered.
Claire sighed and shook her head,
“Get to the point please,” she exhaustedly asked.
“I think Oswald has unleashed the souls of the damned in this building,” the accountant declared worriedly.
“Like how Fionna was an alien because her skin was teal and she blinked sideways?” Claire asked sarcastically “Or how Giovanni was a robot who was conspiring with the printer last November?”
Connor shook off her snark and continued,
“Are you telling me that a man with no flesh, a deep booming voice and is permanently on fire, fire that doesn’t trigger the smoke detector mind you, doesn’t seem at least a little suspicious?”
The woman crossed her arms,
“Connor, it is company policy and basic human decency to not judge others based on their physical-”
“He said he was from Hell!” Connor said, slamming his fist angrily.
“Yes, as in Hell, Michigan. You would light yourself on fire if you had to live there too” she said, reassuring him.
“Robert is training him! You know, the man who’s been dead for 3 years!” he exclaims, “The man who’s casket I helped lower into the ground!”
Claire gives him a judgmental look,
“well, clearly you didn’t do a well enough job. Besides, his position is a difficult job to fill, you know that.”
“Th-that’s not all!” Connor blurts, trying to make his case, “The coffee maker is telling me to do heinous acts, the walls are bleeding, and he’s eating a freshly slaughtered lamb at his cubicle right now!”
“And you eat a fish sandwich everyday,” Claire quips looking at the small clock on her desk, “now if that’s everything I would enjoy the rest of your lunch break, it’s almost 1 o’clock.”
“But I-”, he tries to say.
“Connor, every time we have someone new start in this building, I always see you that week with a wild and defamatory conspiracy!” she boomed, “either you learn to trust your coworkers or you can seek employment elsewhere, am I understood?”, the woman demands.
“Yes ma’am,” a sheepish phrase exits his lips. The accountant returns to his cubicle defeated, grabbing a lukewarm Filet-O-Fish sandwich from his bag.
“Fish again Connor?” an off putting voice says from the next cubicle over.
“Yes Oswald, fish again.” he responds despondently. “Ew,” the skeleton's voice radiates throughout his entire body, “but whatever gets you through the day I guess.”
“yeah, I guess...”
Joe Schmoe's Dice Decided Day
Joe Schmoe's Dice Decided Day
6:00 AM.
“Joooooooooe”, the mysterious voice said, “Joooooooooooooooooooe”. It grew impatient, “Joe wake the hell up!” it yelled in an annoyed tone.
You woke up, dazed and confused. It was just your longtime roommate and friend you share a home with; Loki the trickster god.
“Joe, I’m here to collect a favor,” the god said, pulling out a list, its teeth peaking through a poorly stitched shut smile.
You tried to object, but you are but a lowly silent protagonist, the universe itself did not feel like giving you a voice for either comedic effect or a lack of care for a man named after a nickname.
“Now, I assume you’d have objections, however you owe me for lending you gas money, so you’re shit out of luck,” the god says while waving away his roommate’s concerns. “Here’s how it works; I roll this dice every two hours, and whatever number it lands on, a new effect happens to you. It’s all done at 4!”
You try to say something, but are immediately cut off by the god rolling the dice. In an instant, you are thrown violently into a wall, your personal gravity has been replaced by a less familiar, more intoxicated gravity. The trickster chuckles to himself, was it worth it for the cost of $20? No, but he was amused anyway.
“Well at least it wasn’t a 4! Best of luck chum, you’ll return to normal at 8!”, he assures before his lighting becomes more ominous, venom burned eyes glowing a deep blue, “for now...”
But getting out of bed was just the first of your many herculean tasks, you were thrown about the cold shower, never before had making a single fried egg been as extra tear inducing as usual. Despite the hardships, you did get clean, you did make that totally intentional scrambled egg, and you did make it to work, regardless of the family of five you confused on the drive there.
8:00AM.
“Hey, Joe while you’re on the ceiling can I borrow a-” Robin tried to say before she was interrupted by the less than peaceful transition of power back to your normal gravity, “Hey, while you’re on the floor could I borrow a pen?”
You tossed her a red pen you dropped on the floor an hour ago and recollected yourself, you had cardboard boxes to email about. This is what you would like to say, if your head wasn’t replaced by a giant donut. Despite this frosting covered facade you would have to call a head, you could still see perfectly fine, hear too! You even participated in witty banter at the water cooler nobody used to actually drink water from.
“I think Hugh’s an alien” Claude said gesturing to the sentient fungus filling out tax reports.
“That’s bold coming from the Canadian,” Robin says, shooting him down, “Right Joe?”
This was your chance to get your coworkers to laugh, you had one shot;
“...”
You had forgotten you could not speak, pastry head or not. This elicited a bold reaction, “What? Just because you got a new haircut you think you're above us?” Claude said, offended.
“No, he just knows I’m right,” Robin smirks.
Claude throws his arms up and goes back to work with a scoff.
“That guy can be so judgemental,” Robin says looking to you with a chuckle, “Glad you’re not like that. Makes you all the better to be around!”
The two of you share a short stint of silent acknowledgement, she took it as a compliment.
“Hey, just out of curiosity-” she begins to say before a beep of her watch steals her attention, “Oh shoot! I’ll ask you again later, got a meeting in a minute! Talk to you later Joe, love the new look!”
Outside of this, having a donut for a head was surprisingly uneventful, minus the unpaid interns trying to cannibalize you in the break room. Luckily you made it safe and sound with only some minor brain damage. And neurotrauma. And think not so well. You wonder what the next hour will bri-
12:00 PM.
Thanks to the power of the visuals cutting out conveniently, nobody figured out it was really you who threw the darts at Claude. 🎵! You suddenly heard dramatic music. Wait… No! The format is going to become a musical! You won’t be able to communicate with anyone due to the lack of printed text explaining your thoughts and actions!
Claude: WHAT THE FUCK!?
Robin: That’s a duck.
Claude: Not that unrelated farce!
Todd: Then what part?
Claude: I’ve skewered with a dart!
Robin: Don’t be insane!
Claude: Who’s to blame!?
Robin: The one riddled in shame.
Claude: …
Todd: …
Robin: …
Claude: Well, do you know?
Robin: Let’s ask Jooooooooooooooe.
Joe: 𝄽
Robin: Well that’s not helpful…
Boss: YOU’RE BEING WASTEFUL!
Todd: Oh shit…
Boss: THAT’S IT! I DON’T PAY YOU FOLKS TO LOLLYGAG AND SING!
Claude: But that’s the thing! We’re stuck in thiiiiiiiiiiis paaaaaaaaart!
Robin: Please see it in your heeeeaaaaaaaaaaarrrrt!
Boss: …
Boss: I see it now… I’ve lost my frown! I see all the hard work here and bound!
Boss: And I must say. I’ll work to change my waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaays!
🎵!
2:00 PM.
That was terrible
(CANNED LAUGHTER)
Without an actual backing track you had no way to tell the rhythm of the lyrics. Worse yet, you had a voice crack-
(CANNED LAUGHTER)
You have two more hours before this goes back to normal. At least your boss is in a cheerier mood.
VERONICA
“Hey everyone! Sorry I’m late, I was incredibly drunk!”
(CANNED LAUGHTER)
Dear God the final effect is the most devious of them all! The live studio audience!
(CANNED LAUGHTER)
You just need to stay as boring as possible, right celebrity guest star who we’ve somehow managed to afford for this skit; Morgan Freeman?
(LAUGHTER TRANSITIONING TO CHEERING)
The narrative has doomed you…
(CANNED LAUGHTER)
It’s echoing, maddening-
(CANNED LAUGHTER)
AND IT WON’T SHUT UP DESPITE THE LACK OF VERBAL DIALOG!
(CANNED LAUGHTER)
If it wont stop, you just won't narrate-
(AUDIENCE DISAPPOINTMENT)
You realized you can’t make it to 4:00 PM without narrating your way there, an aspect of writing you did not consider…
(CANNED LAUGHTER)
But as you ponder your future of having to deal with this torture, your vision fades to black.
TUMSworthy Heartburn Commercial _ TUMS®.mp44:00 PM.
You’ve done it… You’ve made it… That fade to black was a commercial break, a cut used to transition to a later point in the episode! You fall to the floor in victory, despite all you did today was filling out two emails. You’ve won against Loki!
“Hey Joe.” Robin says, not questioning why you’re on the floor and profusely bleeding out of your ears.
You weakly wave to say hi.
“I wanted to ask this earlier; you wanna get dinner after this?” She asks.
You give her a thumbs up, especially because the musicless musical number, where you mostly ceased to exist, happened during your lunch break.
“Great! I’ll see you 8! You know where I live.” she confirms before going back to work. Despite all the annoyances of your day, you can at least say it ended on a high note.
Wait… You don’t have any money…
“Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey bitch! What’s crackalackin’?” the familiar trickster god says to your mild annoyance. “Couldn’t help but notice you need some assistance! And as your friend I’d be delighted to offer some of my blessings!” Loki says, kicking his legs playfully.
You silently question why he’s even here, much to his amusement.
“Bored as shit! Now, I won’t ask for anything outrageous! Just a little extension on my teensy little ask from today!” the god offers with a hissing chuckle, “Admit it, we both had a little fun didn’t we? Oh who am I kidding? Of course you did!”
By a technicality of your lack of verbal dialog, can’t disagree, a fact the trickster takes full advantage of to get in a very violent handshake.
“I’ll let you go until 6, then your reality is mine until midnight!”
You stare at him, furrowing your brow.
“Oh don’t be so pissy, I won’t do anything to ruin your playdate! I am the god of [Redacted Due To The Christianization Of Northern Germanic Culture] after all!”, he said proudly, “Now enjoy your white bread of a world while you can, friend! And most importantly; have fun!”
And then he was gone.
6:00 PM.
You open your closet to find rows of white button ups and black shirts, you can’t say you aren’t consistent, the bright obnoxious banana suit is tempting though. No, this is a date, you need to go all out, look your best, show her a different side of you, a more intimate and personal side. But as you put on a slightly off white shirt, a blinding light engulfs you in a warm embrace.
“Joseph my son!” a cloaked figure bellows.
Nope! Not doing this! You don’t have the time, nor patience. You grab the figure and pull it away from the light to reveal a giant fish.
“Joseph! What are you doing?!” the fish demands. “Joseph! Joseph no!” The fish pleads, “JOSEPH MY SON PLEEEEEEEEAAAAS-”
You stuff the evidence in a tupperware container in the back of the fridge. At least it wasn’t a fish sandwich, then you’d be as bad as a devil!
You better start heading over-
8:00 PM.
Knock! Knock!
The door creaks open to reveal Robin, happy to see you. You’re just as happy.
“Hey Joe!” she greets you, “Hope you don’t mind Italian for dinner. Figured it’d be nice, but not too much, y’know?”
…
It appears Standards and Practices has been very liberal with the censoring today, but you’re sure it won’t be that bad, after all; what’s the worst thing some bleeps could do?
You sit down and make yourself a large plate of pasta, some bread and a whole lot of cheese, the three food groups of eating Italy.
“That shirt looks good on you!” Robin says politely. You compliment her dress in return. However you do that silently… She thanks you. “I notice you don’t really talk at all,” Robin says while moving around the noodles on her plate, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it just looks lonely when you go by yourself around the office…”
That bleep was shorter than what you assume yet you still feel mildly insulted. Well at least it’s mostly bleeping the dialog.
There is no feasible way this is making it to air…
Finally, back to some good ol’ proper and polite dialect. None of that radical insinuated profanity or other twaddle-
…
Good heavens everything is British! Clearly your greatest adversary yet; English!
Wait you’re American-
“I quite enjoyed the nosh, wouldn’t you agree Joseph?” Lady Robin inquired pleasantly.
GAH!!! EVEN YOUR THUMBS UPWARD IS CULTURED!!! WILL THE ENGLISHNESS NEVER END!? WILL THIS SPECTRE OF ABSURDITY EVER REACH ITS GRANDE FINALE!! WILL THIS THEATRE FINALLY GET ITS COLOUR BA-
“Joseph? Is everything… Kindly?” Madam Robin ponders as she gazes upon your deeply conflicted visage writhing on the gray floors. “Joseph..?”
“Joseph..?”
“Joe?”
Wuh….? Whazzat..? Oh thank God, the font is back to a sans serif…
“Joe, you ok?” Robin asks while having 911 on speed dial.
You nod your head, you’re fine, and not under the rule of Queen Elizabeth… Or whoever it is at this point, you only email about cardboard boxes, you don’t pay attention to news.
“Oh thank God! You had me concerned for a bit there!” Robin grabs you by the shoulders and shakes the dust off of you violently with the force of an FBI operative interrogating Kermit the Frog.
The two of you sit on the couch in a usual bout of silence.
“Hey Joe. Did you… Did you have fun at all?” Robin asks worriedly.
…
“I mean, you gave me weird looks during our dinner conversation… And the moment 10 rolled around you fell on the floor, foaming at the mouth mid conversation…” Robin says, her eyes turning to the floorboards. “Was this a bad idea..?”
You-
You know what? Forget the narration-
“...”
“...”
“Oh… Wow…” Robin, gasped. “Guess it wasn’t that much of a bad idea after all…”
Suddenly, a thunderstorm wails outside, shaking the building and cutting the lights. A disheveled figure crawls out of the shadows-
“Whomst do you think you are!?” Loki demands, offended.
Oh great… Hi Loki…
“Don’t ‘Hi Loki’ me! Does our marriage mean nothing to you!?” Loki screeched.
Loki forgets to mention it was a Vegas wedding-
“I don’t care if it was a Vegas wedding! This is poor manners, even from you!”
Oh! You’re the one with poor manners? Well Loki forgets to mention the time he ate all the eggs, and failed to leave a note about it!
‘Oh here we go again with the eggs! How was I supposed to know you’d enter an omelet making competition, you hardly tell me anything!” Loki erupts.
“I feel like I’m watching a very one sided argument here…” Robin blurts in awkward bewilderment.
You gesture to Loki to see what’s he’s done-
“What I’VE done?” Loki asked exasperated, “I’m not the one going around kissing women!”
“S-should I leave?” Robin asks…
She should really just ignore him, this will be over in a minute.
“She can’t hear you dumbass, you’re a silent protagonist!” Loki points out, “It’s why you have celebrity guest star Morgan Freeman narrating this!”
…
“. . .”
“Well? Anything else you’d like to say Joe?” Loki demands
“I want a divorce.” You say.
“. . . Fine. . .” Loki says, “Goodbye Joe. . .”
And with that, Loki slinks away, leaving the 2 mortals alone.
“Did you just-” Robin stutters
You just shrug in response, you all probably just imagined it anyway, unlike everything else that happened today.
“Nevermind…” Robin shakes her head, “wanna watch a movie?”
You nod in agreement, and so ends the day of Joseph Silencieux Schmoe.
Now which one of you is going to drive me, celebrity guest star and narrator Morgan Freeman, back to my home?
DIVORCE SELFIE!
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