| Humor Script posted June 2, 2009 |
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A Fanstory social event goes wrong!
Camp
by Fleedleflump
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FLEEDLEFLUMP (sounding groggy) Err, hello? Is anyone else here?
OTHER VOICE (equally groggy)
Don’t talk so loud!
FLEEDLEFLUMP
That you, Ray?
DOMINO
Yeah, Mike, it’s me. xx
FLEEDLEFLUMP
Man, I feel like I was head-butted by Jason Statham!
DOMINO
Did you let me loose on the Absinthe, Mike?
FLEEDLEFLUMP
What do you mean? DOMINO
I mean I’m fudgin’ blind, here! Last thing I remember we were in the bar at the camp, rating the passing ladies out of ten, and now I’m blind and my head feels like a cauliflower packed with red-hot drawing pins. I’ve had memory gaps before, but not after only eight pints.
FLEEDLEFLUMP
I don’t think you’re blind, Ray, unless I am too. I think we’re somewhere very dark, and the lights are out.
DOMINO
Oh, that’s not so bad, then.
FLEEDLEFLUMP
Not so bad? You and me wake up in a dark room together with aching heads and no recollection of how we got here, and that’s not so bad? This is feeling more and more like one of Barbara’s stories!
DOMINO
Don’t joke about that stuff, Mike. I’ve … been through things like that before. They change a man. This doesn’t have the feel.
FLEEDLEFLUMP
Do you think anyone else is here with us, asleep or trying to stifle giggles?
DOMINO
Hello? Hello?
FLEEDLEFLUMP
Hey! Anyone else here?
(silence for a few moments, then a floorboard creaks)
FLEEDLEFLUMP
Hitcher, is that you?
HITCHER
Ah, you got me, Mike, I was f_n loving that!
DOMINO
Did you do this, Hitch?
HITCHER
Nah mate, not guilty. I just woke up myself, brain like a walnut in a sauna.
FLEEDLEFLUMP
What the fudge is going on here?
DOMINO (scrambling noises)
Hang on, I think I’ve found a switch.
(there’s an electric buzzing, and fluorescent lights flicker to life, illuminating a decrepit, stained white-tiled room. There’s a guy in each of three corners, and a heap covered with black tarpaulin in the fourth. Each of them has a pad of paper and a pen in front of them)
HITCHER
This place looks like Marilyn Manson’s bedroom!
FLEEDLEFLUMP
Or Satan’s bathroom.
DOMINO
Or Satan’s personal bedroom, in Marilyn Manson’s house. Hang on, the floor is tiled. There’s no floorboards.
HITCHER
So?
DOMINO
So how did Mike rumble your presence earlier when he heard a creaking floorboard.
FLEEDLEFLUMP
Ah yeah, about that. I sort of let one go.
DOMINO
You farted? You smelly bugger!
HITCHER
And you covered it by pretending it was a creaking floorboard and you thought it was me? That’s a bit extreme!
DOMINO
Lucky guess, though.
FLEEDLEFLUMP (tries to crawl towards corner with bundle)
Crap, there’s a manacle around my ankle, I’m chained to the bloody wall!
DOMINO
Kinky. Oh, so am I.
HITCHER
Yep, same here. Hey!
DOMINO & FLEEDLEFLUMP (together)
What?
HITCHER
This is like in the movie, Saw.
FLEEDLEFLUMP
Which one? Aren’t there, like, 14 of them now or something?
HITCHER
Not quite, and I mean the good one; the first one.
FLEEDLEFLUMP (putting on deep voice)
Dare you see saw?
DOMINO
Lol, that suits you, Mike. So, what’s Saw about? Last film I saw was Spartacus!
HITCHER
So we’re either sharing a dream, of the other guys at the summer writing camp are having a laugh with us and making us act out Saw.
FLEEDLEFLUMP
I don’t think so, Hitch. I don’t think this is a game. I don’t think anyone is laughing right now.
HITCHER
Why do you say that?
(Mike points at the blood spreading from under the black tarpaulin in the corner)
DOMINO
Ah, crap! Although, that looks a little bit orange to be blood.
HITCHER
We may be trapped.
FLEEDLEFLUMP
Fudge!
DOMINO
Typical! I was just convincing myself that my Willy was big enough to get me published! I even had a publisher interested in talking shop, and now something like this happens.
HITCHER
I just got a big contract to write poetry for a certain type of ladies magazine for the more mature audience. I can’t be here!
FLEEDLEFLUMP
I just had a publisher ask to see the full manuscript of Bran. Hang on…
DOMINO
Mike, do you think there’s a connection? All of us about to make it big, and suddenly we find ourselves in a room scarier than Fred West’s basement?
HITCHER
Or Harold Shipman’s surgery.
FLEEDLEFLUMP
Or Danny DeVito’s jock strap.
DOMINO
Nice.
FLEEDLEFLUMP (fumbling with his jeans)
Hang on a minute, I think there’s something in my pocket.
HITCHER
Save it for the ladies, Mike.
FLEEDLEFLUMP
Yeah, here it is! It’s a Dictaphone, and it says ‘Lay Me’ on it.
DOMINO
Does it have an appropriate hole? Seems a strange request, lol.
FLEEDLEFLUMP
I think it’s a clever joke; somebody has take the Pee out of it.
HITCHER
That’s a bit of a reach, Mike.
DOMINO
Just play the damn thing, will you?
(Mike presses the play button on the Dictaphone)
TAPE
Oh yeah baby, you doin’ good, oh yeah, yeah, YEAH! Hey, is that thing recording? … BEEEEEEEEEEP …
(Mike, Ray, and Hitch share a glance)
TAPE (extremely deep, threatening voice)
Michael Edward Bell, sometimes known as Fleedleflump Beeblemooer, he who is lacking a belly button, do you want to play a game?
FLEEDLEFLUMP
As long as it’s not Monopoly, cause I am SO bored of that game.
HITCHER & DOMINO (together)
Shhhhhhhhhh!
TAPE
You think you are a funny guy, you think your stories are worth the hard drives they are inscribed on. You spend your life moaning about not being published but do little to remedy the situation. You whine incessantly if you receive a four star rating, but rarely bother with a second draft. You are a poor excuse for a Fanstorian. So the question, Fleedleflump, is simple: How much do you want to get published? The rules of the game are simple. You have one hour to write a story about you, Hitcher, and Domino on a Fanstory-arranged summer camp. Something goes wrong, and you are kidnapped. What happens next? If you fail to complete this task in time, say goodbye to one of your colleagues. Additionally, you will then need to re-write your story, editing out the person who has said their final farewells. To add some spice to the game, each of your colleagues also has a task, contained in-
(Mike stops the tape player)
HITCHER & DOMINO (together)
Hey! That bit was about us!
FLEEDLEFLUMP
Guys, if we haven’t heard all the rules, we can avoid playing the stupid game. We can’t be expected to play if we haven’t been fairly warned.
DOMINO
Mike, do you seriously think the person or people who went to the trouble of doing all this are worried about playing fair? I’ve met people like this in one of my previous jobs, so trust me, and play the tape.
HITCHER
He’s got a point, Mike. Play the rest. I want to know if it’s aliens or a vampire trying to kill us. I’m trying to figure it out from the voice.
FLEEDLEFLUMP
Okay, I guess you’re right.
TAPE
Sqeeaaalicky … To add some spice to the game, each of your colleagues also has a task, recorded on mp3 players about their persons. They alone will know what their task is. Assuming you found this tape the moment you awoke, you have one hour. If you were so dim-witted that you spent time swapping inane banter before you noticed it, then you have less. I bid you Adieu. … BEEEEEEEEEEP … you so big baby, you so big, oh yeah, give it to me, yea- Click
DOMINO
Hey, Mike I was listening to that! It, err, might have been relevant.
HITCHER (Looking at watch)
I reckon we’ve been awake about ten minutes, so you’ve got fifty minutes, my friend.
FLEEDLEFLUMP
The voice said “I bid you Adieu”. Why? Is that a clue?
DOMINO
You think we’ve been imprisoned by the French?
HITCHER
Hardly. They’re about as scary as Will Young in a ballerina outfit.
FLEEDLEFLUMP
Adieu … Adieu … Adewpearl?
DOMINO
Come on, Mike. This isn’t Brooke’s doing. This is some titwank with a weird fetish and a burning vendetta.
HITCHER
And there’s no way Brooke’s a vampire.
FLEEDLEFLUMP
I don’t think this is the work of vampires, Hitch.
HITCHER
But I’ve ruled out aliens; the command of our language by the voice on the tape was too complete.
FLEEDLEFLUMP
No, I think this is something much, much worse.
DOMINO
It’s not your Nan in a bikini, is it? Cause that line really scared me.
FLEEDLEFLUMP (picks up pad and pen)
Guys, I’d better start writing. You should listen to your messages.
(Domino & Hitch pull headphones from their pockets and start listening, Fleedleflump chews pen and stares at a blank page on the pad. Presently, the others pull out the headphones, pick up their pads, and start scribbling, with much pausing and head-scratching)
FLEEDLEFLUMP
This is harder than beating a whale to death with a handful of scrambled egg.
DOMINO
Or having one off the wrist with an image of a naked Ann Widdecombe in your head.
HITCHER
Or watching a romantic comedy when all you want is some full-on violence, my friend!
FLEEDLEFLUMP (punches the air)
That gives me an idea!
(Montage: they all scribble industriously for some time as the camera fades between close-ups of their faces and a full-screen image of Hitcher’s watch, which inexplicably makes a loud ticking noise with a heavy bass undercurrent each second while the camera is on it. Sweat drips from their noses. Suddenly they all look up simultaneously, and stare at each other.)
ALL TOGETHER
Done!
DISEMBODIED VOICE
No. Which of you finished first?
FLEEDLEFLUMP
None of us. We finished at exactly the same time. It’s weirder than ‘Weird Jack McWeird’, winner of Weirdville’s annual “Who’s the weirdest weirdo?” contest.
HITCHER
Or a stag with a rifle, roping humans over the bonnet of his jeep to take home and feed the wife and fawns.
DOMINO
Or a torrential rain of Beef Stroganoff.
DISEMBODIED VOICE
No. This does not compute. You are all anomalies!
HITCHER
No, Anomaly only writes historical sci-fi poetry.
FLEEDLEFLUMP
I’m not sure we can all be anomalies. I mean, isn’t that a contradiction? You know, like ‘he walked forward into yesterday’.
DOMINO
Or ‘one good shag dese-
DISEMBODIED VOICE
Enough! You shall all perish, and your works will become mine, forever to present to the world as mine own!
(the black tarpaulin moves, and the blood, which looks a little orange, is sucked back under it. Then it lifts until it’s the height of a man, and the black tarpaulin is thrown aside, revealing a naked man with a wire running from his behind to a computer in the corner. The man seems uncertain, and still wobbly on his feet.)
FLEEDLEFLUMP
Oh fudge! It’s a synthetic humanoid, made from intelligent nano-machines and run by a consciousness downloaded from a computer!
DOMINO
It gets its consciousness delivered up the bum? Why does it look like Russell Crowe?
HITCHER
Long story, mate, and I don’t think Russell Crowe’s that well hung! We need to get out of here!
FLEEDLEFLUMP
There’s an old hacksaw hidden behind the pipes in my corner. Maybe it’ll cut through my chain, and I can get help before cod-swinger here finishes downloading and kills us.
DOMINO
I’ve got one too, but there’s no way this blade will cut through these chains. That’s about as likely as Eddie ‘the Eagle’ winning the ski jump at the next Winter Olympics.
HITCHER
It doesn’t want us to cut through our chains, guys. It wants us to cut through our feet. It’s like Mad Max has finally caught up with us.
FLEEDLEFLUMP (placing saw blade against his ankle)
I’m damned well gonna try.
(Fleedleflump starts to saw and the other two wince)
FLEEDLEFLUMP (screams in a high pitched wail and stops)
Fudge me, that hurts!
HITCHER
Guess you’re not trained for this, Mike.
FLEEDLEFLUMP
Damn it, Under Siege 2 wasn’t all that bad!
DOMINO
What?
(there is a loud bang, and the door bursts inward. Babylonia and Adewpearl bust in, brandishing shotguns)
ADEWPEARL
Hello, boys.
(the guys look shocked, and the ladies blow the synthetic naked guy to pieces with their guns, then shoot through the chains to free Fleedleflump, Hitcher, and Domino)
HITCHER
Reminds me of my youth. Come on, let’s blow this joint.
(all head out of the room, into dark corridor)
DOMINO
So what’s your story, ladies?
BABYLONIA
We were at the bar in the summer camp, drinking cocktails and marking the passing guys out of ten. Then neither of us remembers anything before we woke up in a room like yours. We managed to escape and find shotguns, then we heard what sounded like a little girl’s scream, and came running.
(Fleedleflump blushes)
FLEEDLEFLUMP
What was that thing, back there?
ADEWPEARL
It was Fanstory. It’s got so big, with so many personalities contained within it, that it’s become aware.
DOMINO
Why would Fanstory turn on us?
BABYLONIA
Ray, think of all the undiscovered gold held on her servers. Fanstory just realised that, if she kept us slaves and writing to tight deadlines, she could become the most powerful publishing house in existence! I guess we know why we were all invited here.
HITCHER
So that’s why my message told me to write the greatest poem in the world before Mike or Ray finished, or my soul would be eaten.
DOMINO
And I had to make Willy even bigger, and beat the other two.
HITCHER
I called it ‘Tribute’.
(They emerge through a trapdoor into bright sunshine next to an idyllic beach. There are tents and a bar visible in the distance. Babylonia’s cell phone rings. She answers it, and her face goes white. She puts it on speaker-phone.)
PHONE (deep, threatening voice)
Barbara, also known as Babylonia, your task is simple.
ALL
Are we still in the game?
----- The End -----
Fanstory Summer Camp! contest entry
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Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. . Obviously, no offence is intended to anybody represented in this story, including Fanstory itself. It???s just a bit of fun :-) The first Saw film was a genuinely intelligent thriller with a great twist at the end. The sequels (done almost completely by different people) are quite entertaining, but they???re pretty standard horror films with the occasional innovative idea. I may have started like the first film, but I???ve left it way behind by the end! I hope you enjoyed :-) Mike . . 
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