dir. Uwe Boll
[EXTREMELY OBVIOUS DISCLAIMER: Yeah, I'll state the extremely obvious right off the bat that nothing in the following paragraphs in any way represents any kind of reality. Nor is this piece meant in any way to represent any kind of reality. It's all fictitious and such (and obviously so). Yep, just a big ol' fakity fake story thunk up by yours truly while high on caffeine yesterday.]
Gerry Chaplin and Michael Madsen arm-in-arm to the house of their friend did travel, skipping to the tune they half-remembered and sang out of tune. At the yard of the house of Ben—Sir Kingsley to some, friend to them—the two arrived. With an impish grin, Gerry faced her friend. Clenched in her hand, ready to toss, was a stone from the sack she carried on her back.
"You think he's awake?" asked Gerry, the stone almost released.
"I don't know. We ain't a'sposed to." replied the timid Madsen.
Before the words left his mouth, the stone clanged the window. A laugh from Gerry; from Madsen came panic. From the house sprang Ben followed by the woman with the rolling pin who chased him out. "What did I tell you about this commotion? If it happens again, I swear to God I'll give you what for and then some more. These friends are just trouble and-"
"Geez, mom, why you gotta embarrass me?" came the retort from Ben.
"You just wait, buster brown. Anymore shenanigans and don't try coming back. I can't..." her words lost in the ether as Sir Ben and his friends disappeared in the woods beyond the yard of the house with the bed in the room where Sir Ben laid his head.
"Geez guys, why'd you have ta throw that rock? You know what my mom's like. Now I'm in trouble but good."
Quick with an excuse, Madsen blurted out, "Don't look at me. It was Gerry. I told her not to. She-"
Interrupting Madsen, the cocky Gerry put him in his place, "Geez, what a tattletale baby. Why don't you go crying to mommy?"
"Just don't cry to mine," replied Ben to the laughter of his friends.
[Reason # 532 not to take up smoking: you will never look as cool as Geraldine Chaplin does here. Speaking of smoking, Goddamn, Geraldine Chaplin was a fucking hottie.]
As done by the three every day for so long; Madsen, Gerry and Ben arrived at the lean-to by the lake they liked to call pretend-home. They laughed through the day as they played and skipped stones. Sir Ben and Madsen gave in to Gerry, as always they did, and the three soon played Doctor and giggled some more. They continued to bond and to talk and to laugh. As the darkening sky announced night's arrival, the three built a fire to fend off their fright. The marijuana cigarette Gerry brought in her sack was passed to her friends to all their delight.
"I can't believe summer's almost over," announced the wistful Sir Ben.
Gerry, denying emotion at the thought of the end of the season that would bring an end to the playtime she enjoyed with her friends, replied to Sir Ben, "C'mon, Ben, that don't mean anything. We'll still all be friends and stuff."
"It won't be the same. You know it. We won't be able to come out here. The lean'to's gonna be gone in the snow. We-"
[Sir Kingsley rocking out on being awesome.]
"Wait, you guys hear that?" interrupted the skittish Madsen.
"What are you talking about?" came the reply from Gerry.
"Shh. Hold on. Listen."
From the three there was silence and the forest brought darkness. For what seemed an eternity the three stared into space, listening and waiting for what they hoped was not there. Give in to Madsen's fears was what they always did. Sure, he couldn't handle his marijuana cigarette intake, bringing on paranoia as it always did, but Gerry and Ben saw no harm in humoring him. After the usual length of silent waiting, Gerry turned to Madsen, mouth almost open when...
"Oh wait I did hear something," said Ben.
"Shh. Me too. Be quiet," whispered Gerry.
"See, I told you guys," boomed Madsen.
Ben put his hand over Madsen's mouth and whispered to Gerry, "What are we gonna do?"
"You bring your pocketknife?"
"Whoever's out there, whatever he thinks he's gonna do to us, we ain't goin' down without a fight."
"What should we do?"
"Ben, hide behind that tree, ready with your knife. Madsen, go behind the lean-to. Me, I'll be by that tree."
The three assumed positions. After the waiting became most unbearable and the three thought all was clear, a dark figured appeared. The three of them tensed, sweat dripping down, waiting and hoping the stranger would leave. And leave he almost did. Just as the stranger turned, there came a whimper from Madsen. Perked ears from the stranger as turn around he did again.
A scream from Gerry, "Ben! Now!"
Quick with the knife, Ben leaped from his spot and sliced the Achilles of the man who arrived a stranger in the camp. The stranger dropped to the ground, screaming profanities and lunging at Ben and the knife in his hand.
Ben: "Gerry, help!"
Before the words left Ben's mouth, a large rock left Gerry's hands and onto the stranger's back. Gerry pummeled the man with the rock and the man went limp.
Madsen, finally escaping the lean-to, cried to his friends, "Oh gee, guys. Oh boy, oh boy. This isn't good. Is he gonna try to attack?"
[You know what you should do right now? Go rewatch Donnie Brasco. Now that's a great fucking movie.]
To which Gerry replied, "Not less'n he wakes from the dead."
A somber Ben finally took in all that had happened. He had to know, he just had to know who came through and why he would try to do what he almost did do. Ben approached the body and kicked the body over. Shock from Ben and sadness as well as he saw the man's face and knew who he was, "Oh no, it wasn't a killer after all. It was old man Withers. I forgot that he comes through the forest for midnight fog walks."
"We done a bad thing," replied the anguished Madsen.
Ben put his head in his hands, "When my mom finds out about this, my goose will be cooked for sure."
Thinking on her feet, the resilient Gerry addressed the two, "Hold on fellas, don't lose hope now. We don't have to do time. We just gotta get rid of the body."
Through his tears, Madsen asked, "But he's so big. How will we do that?"
"Piece by piece. That's the only way no one will find out his true identity."
Ben regained composure, "Gerry's right. We gotta act and act fast."
Taking command, Gerry addressed the two, "Ben, cut off his head and pull out his teeth. The dental records will just bring us all grief. Madsen, sand off his fingerprints before you chop off his hands. We can't leave a trace of who this man was."
"What'll you do, Gerry?"
"I'll start digging holes. I have enough lime to do away with the remains."
The three went to work and work hard they did. And deep into the night and nigh on the morning, the three finished their task. Friends before, they now looked at each other as strangers. No amount of time nor good deeds could make right what they did nor heal the rift wrought by this crime. Partners before, any solidarity now was the result only of mutual guilt and fear. Never again would they regain the carefree bond built that summer. Never again would they be the same.
Just then, Uwe Boll popped out from behind a tree and pointed at the three. "Ha, I saw what you guys did. Now you'll have to be in my movie BloodRayne or I'll call the cops and tell them what you did."
The three: "Dangnabit."
[My review of BloodRayne: Although Boll's movie isn't nearly as atrocious as I was hoping, I laughed enough while watching it that I considered it an overall enjoyable experience.]