Download Extravaganza By Nasty C

And now we meet back up with the kid from Bad Santa, still dragging his nasty candy pillowcase on the ground as he knocks pumpkins off of fence posts. That seems like a strange place to put your jack-o-lanterns, but sure. The kid goes up on a porch that features a jack-o-lantern with a knife sticking out of its eye, and spots the bowl of candy with a note instructing people to take ONE PIECE. This kid, of course, dumps the whole bowl in his bag.

Dracula grinds some gears, then manages to drive the bus forward as a clown trips the driver in the aisle. Unfortunately, Dracula drives the bus right off the edge of the quarry and into the lake below. The bus sinks, until all we see are pumpkins and masks floating on the surface. Macy tells us the driver was never heard from again, but we see him crawl out of the water, wheezing and clinging to the rocks.

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Rhonda comes to with the zombies standing over her, then freaks out and slaps one of them. She scrambles away and stares at them, and they take the zombie masks off, because of course this was a really mean prank done by the Pumpkin Gang.

Speaking of, he now looks around him and sees the corpses of all the men that were at the party lying around with their throats ripped out. He realizes he should probably try to get the fuck out, but his leg is broken, with the bone sticking through the skin.

Spite starts barking at something, so Kreeg clicks the TV off and looks out the window. The front gate is swinging back and forth, creaking, even though the clowns definitely shut it all the way. As Kreeg is looking out, an egg explodes against the window and a figure runs around the side of the house, giggling loudly.

He raises the bat over his head to smash the pumpkins, but Spite starts barking toward the back again. Oh, and now I do see the doggie door in the back door. Whoops. Fail, me. The doggie door is swinging back and forth, and Spite starts barking at the staircase, then runs upstairs. Kreeg looks up at the ceiling above his head, where he can hear more barking, and giggling.

Kreeg asks Sam who the hell he is, and Sam responds by holding up a candy bar and peeling back the wrapper to reveal a bloody razor blade sticking up out of the chocolate. Ah, that old chestnut. Kreeg gasps and tries to shoot Sam, but hits the jack-o-lantern behind him instead. The room goes dark, and Sam is nowhere to be seen.

The severed hand crawls its way over to the rest of Sam and taps him on the leg. This wakes Sam up, and the hand reattaches itself to the stump. Kreeg looks on in wheezing horror as Sam puts the burlap sack back over his head and takes the iconic jack-o-lantern lollipop out of his bag. He takes a bite out of it, creating that crescent-shaped sharp edge, and advances on Kreeg.

Okay, but like, when was this photo taken? Right before he killed the kids? Why would he have this photo? Who took it, then gave it to him? Did he take it on a self-timer, then have it developed and stash it away? Does any of this make sense in any way other than visual storytelling?

Across the street, Rhonda is wheeling her single jack-o-lantern along the sidewalk in her wagon. She steps into the street, and a car slams on the brakes to avoid hitting her. Inside the car are the Sexy Fairytale Werewolf Squad, laughing and chatting away. Sam stands on the sidewalk, staring at Kreeg, then turns his attention across the street, where Emma and Henry are returning home from the parade/party.

The werewolf/quarry sequences appear to be happening at approximately the same time. Wilkins kills Charlie, and then the burying the body/Kreeg fighting Sam storylines seem to be happening pretty much simultaneously, up until Sam tackles Kreeg away from the window. After that, I assume Wilkins fucked off to the parade pretty much immediately so that he could cosplay Phantom of the Bloodsuckers and meet up with Laurie.

Dismissal of a huge extravaganza such as that which has held Chicago and, by radio and press, the entire nation spellbound, breathless and even unconscious, on the varying grounds that it was vulgar brutality, misdirected energy, or vapid inanity is begging the question in a conventional and entirely superficial fashion. The annual battle of the century may have been all of those things and many more, but since its power was so tremendous it can scarcely be passed off as just one of those things. The columns devoted to the private life, if they may be said to possess any, of Joseph Eugene and William Harrison might, it is true, prove any number of nasty things about modern journalism but any murder trial, or sashweight session would do and has done the same only moreso. One must go deeper; one must even go, as the criminal lawyers have it, to the facts--and then, that accomplished, where is one?

The sole boast to uniqueness that this combat might have had is in the characters of the principals. One was touted--to the death--as a student prince; the other made an odd comeback to popularity by emphasizing those qualities which once made him an unpopular champion--brute force and a marvelous thickness of skin as regards what the public had to say concerning him. The gentlemen met before, in Philadelphia, and each would have been much happier were the other dear charmer away. Their second encounter proved more interesting, in its preliminary bombast, than the first; due to the burst of note-writing proclivities on the part of each. Now both proceed along the ladder of fame, one downwards, the other up, each to remain in the public memory as long as is customary for fallen idols: for, to assume the pessimistic attitude and to predict the inevitable, each will be a fallen idol in a surprisingly short time, and he whose arm extended aloft in the calcium glare last night is destined to as deep an obliviou as he who failed to heed the final count. But such philosophy and pessimism is dealing in futurities by four hours, for if the comedy is postponed on account of rain, obituaries, and paeons, including editorials, will be all wet.

Alexandra Palace Fireworks Festival. Alexandra Palace. Sat. 11. This easily one of the biggest and baddest displays in town. Watch fireworks exploding over a panoramic view of London, see a huge fire parade and visit a craft beer festival and this bonfire extravaganza.

Walthamstow Vegan Market. Wild Card Brewery. Sun. Free. Find a selection of delicious vegan treats at this market, handily held at Wild Card so you can pick up booze at the same time. Weekend sorted.

Pop-up Record Shop in a Pub. Prince George. Sat-Sun. Free entry. Dig through record crates at this pop-up shop housed in a Dalston boozer. A free can of beer will be given out with every vinyl purchase.

Guy Fawkes Night in Newham. Wanstead Flats. Sun. Free. When a fireworks night is named after the man himself it better be banging. Her the pows and pfooms explode over Wanstead Flats at 6.30pm.

Crystal Palace Park Fireworks. Crystal Palace Park. Sun. 8.50. As well as dinosaurs and a miniature railway, this kooky park gets another attraction when its annual fireworks display rolls into town.

Natural History Museum Ice Rink. Natural History Museum. Until Jan 7. Prices vary. Feel festive by gliding along this enchanted rink, backdropped by the Alfred Waterhouse buildings, a row of trees dripping fairy lights and a majestic Christmas tree in the middle of the ice.