WELCOME BACK KIDDOS!!

Finger on the button

The clown puts his sweaty fingers to the switch and has a brief moment of pause, thinking to himself in a barely whisper; SOON MY PATIENT LITTLE SICK THINGS, SOON. 

Hmmm... Missed that.

Now that the light has resurged, I look back over the path I took in the darkness. It seems there was a doorway on the other side of the hall. I approach it cautiously and press my ear to the door, trying to hear any noises there may be on the other side.

It seems I'm in some sort of facility. I've seen doors like this on TV, and they're either in submarines, bunkers, or top-secret underground facilities. This one seems to be in the basement of some creepy clown-faced maniac.

WE THE PURPLE

The T.V. screen blips and then cuts to black for a split second. This drastic change causes your body to spam and your mind to draw to immediate attention. Your vision is now consumed with the image of an entire audience of children screaming with excitement. The high-pitch of their fervor is enough to pierce your ears and cause your face to a grimace. Panning into the screen, in an unnaturally close close-up, you see a jubilant face painted like a clown brandishing a large and toothy smile.

“HI KIDDOS!! YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS??”

The children heighten the sharpness of their cheers.

“THAT’S RIGHT … PSYCHO BILLY’S HOUSE OF SLAUGHTER!!!”

As you brace yourself for more audible impact the children’s cheering is nearly unbearable for you.

“OKAY BOYS AND GIRLS, I WANT YOU TO GIVE A NICE WARM WELCOME TO THE PURPLE PLAYER!!!”

The cheering continues its jarring drone and the clown waves the tops of his fingers at you in a coochy-coo manner.

“HEYA PURPLE PLAYER, IT’S TIME TO WAKE-UP NOW … ugh, why do they manage to sleep for so long?”

He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated way.

“WAKE UP!!! BECAUSE YOU ARE MY GUEST ON THE BESTEST GAME-SHOW EVER TO GRACE GOD’S GREEN EARTH. Purple, I always liked purple, you know when I used to play board games I always went for the purple, probably woulda picked purple stuff over Sunny D … WELCOME PURPLE PLAYER!!! WELCOME TO MY HOUSE OF SSSLAUGHTER!!!”

There is calliope music that begins to play in a wonky way as its exasperated and muted notes compete with the hellish high-pitched voices of the youthful audience. The camera pans back now and you can see that this clown is certainly middle-aged but has a certain limber quality to his movements. Around him lie large objects of primary colors set onto a white background.

He takes a great deep exaggerated breath while he makes time for a dramatic pause. Then rapidly leans back to his uncomfortable close up to mumble:

“listen up purple player, it’s all quite simple, quite easy to get really, find those items, find those fucking items no matter what, and you will be free, you will be on course to me, think of those few things as everything, your rights, what you are entitled to have, your LIFE, your LIBERTY, your PURSUIT TO HAPPINESS, and all those other things you gotta get along the way … you want what’s yours, you wanna own what is coming to you, you wanna be all that you can fucking be? ”

“I SURE FUCKING HOPE SO!!! fer yer sssake. I am the one that not only brought you here but essentially created you, I am you’re alpha and I am gunna be your omega so you see you oughta just stick with me and trust me your gunna have a GRAND! OLD! TIME!!”

His face has busted into an intimidating excitement and he inhales again exageratively.

“So yer gunna be a good contestant and stick to the game and give us a good show right?? Yer gunna play this thing through like a fucking Shakespearean comi-tragedy right to the fucking last scene getting them all in stitches, huh?? Yer gunna sing and scream bloody murder all night long??”

It is during this brief pause that you notice the children have stopped their incessant drone but you are not certain for how long it has been dropped.

“ALRIGHT, WERE BACK!!”

The children’s chorus of pain begins sounding again assaulting your ears from either side.

“OKAY, WELL WE HAVE GONE OVER ALL THE RULES AND THERE IS ONLY ONE THING TO ASK …”

The children and the clown scream in an ear-drum battering unison

“ARE … YOU ... READY???”

The final word is left with a pause lasting longer than the previous pauses in this conversation. You have a sick feeling in the bottom of your stomach as you feel you are being watched.

The television has grown silent and motionless besides the clown’s subtle sway and blinks. The pneumatic tube hisses and continues to slide in its downward motion. Your pulse throbs from the center of your chest and outward pressing at the very things strapping you in.

What do you do?

"LET THERE BE NO LIGHT!!!"

... AND WITH THAT THE LIGHTS FROM THE DIODES ON THE PNEUMATIC TUBES ALL AROUND YOU SHUT-OFF. THERE IS A LOUD ECHOING CLICK WHEN THIS HAPPENS. ALL OF YOUR EYES TAKE A MOMENT TO ADJUST IN THE INTERRUPTING SILENCE.

WHITE'S WELCOME

An ostentatious sigh of relief is presented by the clown upon your answer.

“LET THE FUCKING GAMES BEGIN!!!”

The overzealous screams of the children fills your tubular confines with sound forcing your face to squint. You flex at what is strapping you in with great strength and there is not the slightest of a bend. There was, how-ever, a brief pause before your answer gets response. It was difficult to notice but you are going to gather that this ‘broadcast’ is not without delay but all must contained relatively close in proximity. Again you wonder how it is you know any of this.

The face of the clown presses close to the screen which imposes a forced closeness to you.

“HAHHAHAH HA ... YER A FUCKING DEAD MAN!!! A DEAD MAN WHITE, YOU HEAR ME!?!? DEAD!”

And with that you feel your encasement shudder and you feel of a sickly light weight as you feel your blood shift upward.

The T.V. switches back to ‘please stand by…’ and in this moment you feel a great come-down. Like the removal of some awakening force from your body. Perhaps it’s that the clown is gone, maybe those god-awful children, or maybe it’s because for this moment you feel like you are back in some sort of limbo between two worlds.

The quiet returns but this time your mind races with thoughts. It’s as if each moment is the only to cling to so your mind is actively sweeping it till the point of familiarity. The tube around you still shuddering and hissing your ears can barely pick up new music on the radio of this small but imposing television.

Anticipation rises again as you feel new sounds coming from ahead of you and with the television lifting upwards you feel as if you are about be brought out of your confines. There is an instantaneous and overwhelming excitement for the return of your free-will that builds up in your stomach until the rest of your body tingles.

The door ahead of you comes into form with the auto-mechanical rearrangement of objects ahead of you and with a hiss this door too begins to open. And with a sudden violent motion the tube shifts forward slightly and drops you onto the marble floor that stands before you. Lumbering up from your newly assumed fetal position you begin to feel a sudden newness to your being.

The large tube embedded into the wall behind you looks not unlike the décor, which surrounds it. Faded wallpaper and plastered ceiling imply that you are in some sort of building, maybe even a house. Although the stank stale air and general feeling of unease would suggest that this house is not intended for comfortable living.

The hall that lies before you seems very cramped and its wallpaper hangs kind of crooked. The walls are not but five feet apart and its immediate appearance is that of an apartment. But what apartment has marble floors? The hall before you turns sharply to your right and continues fifteen or so feet before breaking off left and into the darkness. The lights of the diodes in your pneumatic tube flash a silhouette of your figure on the wall before you. You are a shadow on the wall. You sort of shrug looking at the average nature of your silhouette and begin to wonder again about the hall.

You are pretty sure you are underground and have been tubed down in that direction for some time. Marble floors, tacky out-dated wallpaper, stale air getting pumped in through somewhere you hear it and almost feel it. The lights of the tube, its gargling hiss and small cramped nature of this hall obscure too many clues but you are sure this is a built representation of a house, a large one possibly a mansion. You are not quite sure where you are but it is certain that you feel a long way from home

A brief moment passes before you realize there may have been a foreign sound bouncing off the walls ahead of you. It sounded like it could have been a voice, but definitely not directed at you for it was too incoherent and distant. Gathered with considerable information you decide your next move.

WILLIAM AND WHITE

The T.V. screen blips and then cuts to black for a split second. This drastic change causes your body to spam and your mind to draw to immediate attention. Your vision is now consumed with the image of an entire audience of children screaming with excitement. The high-pitch of their fervor is enough to pierce your ears and cause your face to a grimace. Panning into the screen, in an unnaturally close close-up, you see a jubilant face painted like a clown brandishing a large and toothy smile.

“HI KIDDOS!! YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS??”

The children heighten the sharpness of their cheers.

“THAT’S RIGHT … PSYCHO BILLY’S HOUSE OF SLAUGHTER!!!”

As you brace yourself for more audible impact the children’s cheering is nearly unbearable for you.

“OKAY BOYS AND GIRLS; PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR THE WHITE PLAYER!!!”

The cheering continues its jarring drone and the clown waves the tops of his fingers at you in a coochy-coo manner.

“HI WHITE PLAYER!!! SORRY TO KEEP YOU WAITING ALL CRAMPED UP IN THERE!!!”

He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated way.

“BECAUSE YOU ARE MY GUEST ON THE BESTEST GAME-SHOW EVER TO GRACE GOD’S GREEN EARTH. Games games games, everything is a game ... yer gunna do your typical white-thing ‘cause that’s yer game … WELCOME WHITE PLAYER!!! WELCOME TO MY HOUSE OF SSSLAUGHTER!!!”

There is calliope music that begins to play in a wonky way as its exasperated and muted notes compete with the hellish high-pitched voices of the youthful audience. The camera pans back now and you can see that this clown is certainly middle-aged but has a certain limber quality to his movements. Around him lie large objects of primary colors set onto a white background.

He takes a great deep exaggerated breath while he makes time for a dramatic pause. Then rapidly leans back to his uncomfortable close up to mumble:

“When I say everything is a game I mean that EVERYTHING IS A GAME!! Your life is a game, my life is a game, and no matter what, NO MATTER FUCKING WHAT we play the GAME!! So my part of the game is that I got to give you rules and bull shit, blah, blah, BLAH!! All I really care about is that you gather those scavenger items, then I can meet the THORN IN MY SIDE, FOR THAT LAST TWO THOUSAND TIMES, WHITE PLAYER!! So … you gunna do this so we can do that and get yer shit together for our final fucking show down?”

“I SURE FUCKING HOPE SO!!! fer yer sssake. I am the one that not only brought you here but essentially created you, I am you’re alpha and I am gunna be your omega so you see you oughta just stick with me and trust me your gunna have a GRAND! OLD! TIME!!”

His face has busted into an intimidating excitement and he inhales again exageratively.

“So yer gunna be a good contestant and stick to the game and give us a good show right?? Yer gunna play this thing through like a fucking Shakespearean comi-tragedy right to the fucking last scene getting them all in stitches, huh?? Yer gunna sing and scream bloody murder all night long??”

It is during this brief pause that you notice the children have stopped their incessant drone but you are not certain for how long it has been dropped.

“ALRIGHT, WERE BACK!!”

The children’s chorus of pain begins sounding again assaulting your ears from either side.

“OKAY, WELL WE HAVE GONE OVER ALL THE RULES AND THERE IS ONLY ONE THING TO ASK …”

The children and the clown scream in an ear-drum battering unison

“ARE … YOU ... READY???”

The final word is left with a pause lasting longer than the previous pauses in this conversation. You have a sick feeling in the bottom of your stomach as you feel you are being watched.

The television has grown silent and motionless besides the clown’s subtle sway and blinks. The pneumatic tube hisses and continues to slide in its downward motion. Your pulse throbs from the center of your chest and outward pressing at the very things strapping you in.

What do you do?

"HELLO!!! WHITE PLAYER!!! ARE YOU THERE!?!"

GREEN LIGHT

“HOO HOO, WOULD YOU LOOK AT THIS GUY, COOL AS A CUCUMBER?!?!?”

The overzealous screams of the children fills your tubular confines with sound forcing your face to squint. You flex at what is strapping you in with great strength and there is not the slightest of a bend. There was, how-ever, a brief pause before your answer gets response. It was difficult to notice but you are going to gather that this ‘broadcast’ is not without delay but all must contained relatively close in proximity. Again you wonder how it is you know any of this.

The face of the clown presses close to the screen which imposes a forced closeness to you.

“WELL THEN GREEN PLAYER, THIS IS WHAT YOU WERE BORN FOR!!!”

And with that you feel your encasement shudder and you feel of a sickly light weight as you feel your blood shift upward.

The T.V. switches back to ‘please stand by…’ and in this moment you feel a great come-down. Like the removal of some awakening force from your body. Perhaps it’s that the clown is gone, maybe those god-awful children, or maybe it’s because for this moment you feel like you are back in some sort of limbo between two worlds.

The quiet returns but this time your mind races with thoughts. It’s as if each moment is the only to cling to so your mind is actively sweeping it till the point of familiarity. The tube around you still shuddering and hissing your ears can barely pick up new music on the radio of this small but imposing television.

Anticipation rises again as you feel new sounds coming from ahead of you and with the television lifting upwards you feel as if you are about be brought out of your confines. There is an instantaneous and overwhelming excitement for the return of your free-will that builds up in your stomach until the rest of your body tingles.

The door ahead of you comes into form with the auto-mechanical rearrangement of objects ahead of you and with a hiss this door too begins to open. And with a sudden violent motion the tube shifts forward slightly and drops you onto the marble floor that stands before you. Lumbering up from your newly assumed fetal position you begin to feel a sudden newness to your being.

The large tube embedded into the wall behind you looks not unlike the décor, which surrounds it. Faded wallpaper and plastered ceiling imply that you are in some sort of building, maybe even a house. Although the stank stale air and general feeling of unease would suggest that this house is not intended for comfortable living

The hall that lies before you seems very cramped and its wallpaper hangs kind of crooked. The walls are not but five feet apart and its immediate appearance is that of an apartment. But what apartment has marble floors? The hall before you turns sharply to your left and continues fifteen or so feet before breaking off right and into the darkness. The lights of the diodes in your pneumatic tube flash a silhouette of your figure on the wall before you. You are a shadow on the wall. You admire your size, only magnified in a black shape contrasting the wallpaper.

You are not quite sure where you are but it is certain that you feel a long way from home.

GEE YELLOW, I DON'T THINK WE ARE IN KANSAS ANY MORE!!

“THEN WE ARE ALL READY THEN, RIGHT KIDDOS!?!”

The overzealous screams of the children fills your tubular confines with sound forcing your face to squint. You flex at what is strapping you in with great strength and there is not the slightest of a bend. There was, however, a brief pause before your answer got a response. It was difficult to notice but you are going to gather that this ‘broadcast’ is not without delay but the signal all must be contained relatively close in proximity. Again you wonder how it is you know any of this.

The face of the clown presses close to the screen which imposes a forced closeness to you.

“WELL THEN YELLOW PLAYER, GOOD FUCKING LUCK!!”

And with that you feel your encasement shudder and you feel of a sickly light weight as you feel your blood shift upward.

The T.V. switches back to ‘please stand by…’ and in this moment you feel a great come-down. Like the removal of some awakening force from your body. Perhaps it’s that the clown is gone, maybe those god-awful children, or maybe its because for this moment you feel like you are back in some sort of limbo between two worlds.

The quiet returns but this time your mind races with thoughts. It’s as if each moment is the only thing to cling on so your mind is actively sweeping it till the point of familiarity. The tube around you still shuddering and hissing, your ears can barely pick up new music on the radio of this small but imposing television.

Anticipation rises again as you feel new sounds coming from ahead of you and with the television lifting upwards you feel as if you are about be brought-out of your confines. There is an instant and overwhelming excitement for the return of your free-will that builds up in your stomach until the rest of your body tingles.

The door ahead of you comes into form with the auto-mechanical rearrangement of objects ahead of you and with a hiss this door too begins to open. And with a sudden violent motion the tube shifts forward slightly and drops you onto the marble floor that stands before you. Lumbering up from your newly assumed fetal position you begin to feel a sudden newness to your being.

The large tube embedded into the wall behind you looks not unlike the décor that surrounds it. Faded wallpaper and plastered ceiling imply that you are in some sort of building, maybe even a house. Although the stank stale air and general feeling of unease would suggest that this house is not intended for comfortable living. If you had to guess by the floor, wallpaper and general structure you would say that this ‘house’ is probably more like a ‘mansion’ from the early fifties. But with the tubes and stale air you are most definitely underground. So, could this be some sort of ritzy bunker built during the early Cold War era?



The lights from the pneumatic tube light a hallway ahead of you that is roughly fifteen feet apart and they stretch thirty feet away from the base of the tube and further into darkness. Just at the darkest edge of each wall you can see a door of sorts. It looks large, rounded and metal something like what you would have seen in a submarine movie. Yes, you remember DAS BOOT, if for only a second. It is hard to make out any details about them from this distance but these doors are certainly shut.

You are not quite sure where you are but it is certain that you feel a long way from home.

"OH YOU GUYS ARE GUNNA LOVE WHAT I HAVE IN STORE FOR YOU!!!"

HELLO YELLOW!!

The T.V. screen blips and then cuts to black for a split second. This drastic change causes your body to spam and your mind to draw to immediate attention. Your vision is now consumed with the image of an entire audience of children screaming with excitement. The high-pitch of their fervor is enough to pierce your ears and cause your face to a grimace. Panning into the screen, in an unnaturally close close-up, you see a jubilant face painted like a clown brandishing a large and toothy smile.

“HI KIDDOS!! YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS??”

The children heighten the sharpness of their cheers.

“THAT’S RIGHT … PSYCHO BILLY’S HOUSE OF SLAUGHTER!!!”

As you brace yourself for more audible impact the children’s cheering is nearly unbearable for you.

“OKAY BOYS AND GIRLS, PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR THE YELLOW PLAYER!!!”

The cheering continues its jarring drone and the clown waves the tops of his fingers at you in a coochy-coo manner.

“HI YELLOW PLAYER … HEYA … HOWS MY YELLOW PLAYER HOLDING UP?? I HOPE YOUR NOT CLAUSTROPHOBIC!!”

He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated way.

“BECAUSE YOU ARE MY GUEST ON THE BESTEST GAME-SHOW EVER TO GRACE GOD’S GREEN EARTH. We got guns, knives, grenades … we got robbers, jocks and fighter pilots … we got so much for you to play with … WELCOME YELLOW PLAYER!!! WELCOME TO MY HOUSE OF SSSLAUGHTER!!!”

There is calliope music that begins to play in a wonky way as its exaperated and muted notes compete with the hellish high-pitched voices of the youthful audience. The camera pans back now and you can see that this clown is certainly middle-aged but has a certain limber quality to his movements. Around him lie large objects of primary colors set onto a white background.

He takes a great deep exaggerated breath while he makes time for a dramatic pause. Then rapidly leans back to his uncomortable close up to mumble:

“this is a game show where you are a contestant and so in order to make it to the final round all you gotta do I collect the six items on your scavenger list that are hidden somewhere on the playing field below… should be easy right, should be a walk in the park?? Well you gotta ask yerself if you have what it takes… go ahead ASK, DO I the FUCKING YELLOW PLAYER have what it takes to see THIS THROUGH??”

“I SURE FUCKING HOPE SO!!! fer yer sssake. I am the one that not only brought you here but essentially created you, I am you’re alpha and I am gunna be your omega so you see you oughta just stick with me and trust me your gunna have a GRAND! OLD! TIME!!”

His face has bursted into an intimidating excitement and he inhales again exageratively.

“So yer gunna be a good contestant and stick to the game and give us a good show right?? Yer gunna play this thing through like a fucking shakesperean comi-tragedy right to the fucking last scene getting them all in stitches, huh?? Yer gunna sing and scream bloody murder all night long??”

It is during this brief pause that you notice the children have stopped their incessant drone but you are not certain for how long it has been dropped.

“ALRIGHT, WERE BACK!!”

The children’s chorus of pain begins sounding again assaulting your ears from either side.

“OKAY, WELL WE HAVE GONE OVER ALL THE RULES AND THERE IS ONLY ONE THING TO ASK …”

The children and the clown scream in an ear-drum battering unison

“ARE … YOU ... READY???”

The final word is left with a pause lasting longer than the previous pauses in this conversation. You have a sick feeling in the bottom of your stomach as you feel you are being watched.

The television has grown silent and motionless besides the clown’s subtle sway and blinks. The pneumatic tube hisses and continues to slide in its downward motion. Your pulse throbs from the center of your chest and outward pressing at the very things strapping you in.

What do you do?

COMMERCIAL BREAK

"WE WILL MEET YELLOW PLAYER AFTER A WORD FROM OUR SPONSORS"

*CLIP FROM OLD COWBOY AND INDIAN MOVIE, HORSEBACK GUN-BATTLE*
*GUNSHOT SOUNDS*

"CAN YOU PUT A PRICE ON HUMAN LIFE?
HOW ABOUT ONE BULLET??
ONE BULLET IS ALL IT TAKES TO SAVE A LIFE.
ONE BULLET CAN MEAN THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH
WHY RISK RUNNING OUT?
WHY EVER RUN AT ALL?
YOU CAN NEVER HAVE TOO MUCH AMMO
IF YOU NEED SOME AMMO AND YOU NEED IT PRONTO
THEN LOOK FOR THE VENDING MACHINE NAMED 'EL BANDITO'"

*CLIP FROM DIRTY HARRY*
*GUNSHOT SOUNDS*

*WORDS ON SCREEN: 'EL BANDITO'*
*MUSICAL JINGLE ON OUTDATED KEYBOARD WITH FEMALE POP VOICES RE-ITERATING THE NAME*

"A WOMAN THINKS A MAN'S GUN SURE IS NEATO
SO GET YOURSELF A BIG ONE AT 'EL BANDITO'"

WELCOME GREEN PLAYER!!

The T.V. screen blips and then cuts to black for a split second. This drastic change causes your body to spam and your mind to draw to immediate attention. Your vision is now consumed with the image of an entire audience of children screaming with excitement. The high-pitch of their fervor is enough to pierce your ears and cause your face to a grimace. Panning into the screen, in an unnaturally close close-up, you see a jubilant face painted like a clown brandishing a large and toothy smile.

“HI KIDDOS!! YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS??”

The children heighten the sharpness of their cheers.

“THAT’S RIGHT … PSYCHO BILLY’S HOUSE OF SLAUGHTER!!!”

As you brace yourself for more audible impact the children’s cheering is nearly unbearable for you.

“ALL RIGHT KIDDOS, BRACE YOURSELVES! AND GIVE A BIG WARM WELCOME TO THE GREEN PLAYER!!”

The cheering continues its jarring drone and the clown waves the tops of his fingers at you in a coochy-coo manner.

“HI GREEN PLAYER … HEYA … pft … LOOK AT THIS GUY, ASLEEP BEHIND THE WHEEL, HE HAS NO IDEA WHATS GOING ON!!”

He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated way.

“WAKE UP!! YOU’RE HERE, ON THE BESTEST GAME-SHOW EVER TO GRACE GOD’S GREEN EARTH. No need to dream my friend, all that you were meant for is right fucking here … WELCOME GREEN PLAYER!!! WELCOME TO MY HOUSE OF SSSLAUGHTER!!!”

There is calliope music that begins to play in a wonky way as its exaperated and muted notes compete with the hellish high-pitched voices of the youthful audience. The camera pans back now and you can see that this clown is certainly middle-aged but has a certain limber quality to his movements. Around him lie large objects of primary colors set onto a white background.

“WE WILL BE BACK KIDDO’S AND WE WILL SEE IF WE CAN FINALLY AWAKE THE GREEN PLAYER!”

He takes a great deep exaggerated breath while he makes time for a dramatic pause. Then rapidly leans back to his uncomortable close up to mumble:

“only gunna say this once green player, so LISTEN THE FUCK UP!! This IS the end times my friend and your very soul is at stake, you are a PAWN on the very CHESS BOARD OF THE GODS!!! And if you wanna get through this you are gunna have to finish your chores, OTHERWISE YOU’LL BE GROUNDED … like for life, IN A BOX!!!”

“deep in your pocket you have a list. each item on that list is somewhere down the the hell you are heading towards. Get those items and I will set you free. Get those items and I will bring you to me. AND FOR THE GODS SAKE DON’T DILLY-DALLY!!!”

“WANNA CLAIM WHATS YOURS?? YOUR VERY FUCKING BIRTH-RIGHT FOR BEING THE BEAST THAT YOU ARE?!? LIKE THOSE ONE-THOUSAND FOOLS WHO FOLLOWED THE BATTFIELD, TO! THEIR! ENDS! AND THE END OF ALL!! THINGS!!!?!?”

“GOOD!! I SURE FUCKING HOPE SO!!! fer yer sssake. I am the one that not only brought you here but essentially created you, I am you’re alpha and I am gunna be your omega so you see you oughta just stick with me and trust me your gunna have a GRAND! OLD! TIME!!”

His face has bursted into an intimidating excitement and he inhales again exageratively.

“So yer gunna be a good contestant and stick to the game and give us a good show right?? Yer gunna play this thing through like a fucking shakesperean comi-tragedy right to the fucking last scene getting them all in stitches, huh?? Yer gunna sing and scream bloody murder all night long??”

It is during this brief pause that you notice the children have stopped their incessant drone but you are not certain for how long it has been dropped.

“HEH HAH!! WE FINALLY GOT THE GREEN PLAYER AWAKE!! ALRIGHT, WERE BACK!!”

The children’s chorus of pain begins sounding again assaulting your ears from either side.

“OKAY, WELL WE HAVE GONE OVER ALL THE RULES AND THERE IS ONLY ONE THING TO ASK …”

The children and the clown scream in an ear-drum battering unison

“ARE … YOU ... READY???”

The final word is left with a pause lasting longer than the previous pauses in this conversation. You have a sick feeling in the bottom of your stomach as you feel you are being watched.

The television has grown silent and motionless besides the clown’s subtle sway and blinks. The pneumatic tube hisses and continues to slide in its downward motion. Your pulse throbs from the center of your chest and outward pressing at the very things strapping you in.

What do you do?

MEET BLUE PLAYER

The T.V. screen blips and then cuts to black for a split second. This drastic change causes your body to spasm and your mind to draw to immediate attention. Your vision is now consumed with the image of an entire audience of children screaming with excitement. The high-pitch of their fervor is enough to pierce your ears and cause your face to a grimace. Panning into the screen, in an unnaturally close close-up, you see a jubilant face painted like a clown brandishing a large and toothy smile.

“HI KIDDOS!! YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS??”

The children heighten the sharpness of their cheers.

“THAT’S RIGHT … PSYCHO BILLY’S HOUSE OF SLAUGHTER!!!”

As you brace yourself for more audible impact the children’s cheering is nearly unbearable for you.

“WE GOT A HELL OF A SHOW FOR YOU KIDS BECAUSE TODAY WE ARE MEETING THE BLUE PLAYER!!”

The cheering continues its jarring drone and the clown waves the tops of his fingers at you in a coochy-coo manner.

“HI BLUE PLAYER … HEYA … pft they are always a little scared at first like this …”

He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated way.

“CHEER UP!! YOU’RE HERE, ON THE BESTEST GAME-SHOW EVER TO GRACE GOD’S GREEN EARTH. Seriously, we gotta great fucking show for you man, yer gunna love it … WELCOME BLUE PLAYER!!! WELCOME TO MY HOUSE OF SSSLAUGHTER!!!”

There is calliope music that begins to play in a wonky way as its exasperated and muted notes compete with the hellish high-pitched voices of the youthful audience. The camera pans back now and you can see that this clown is certainly middle-aged but has a certain limber quality to his movements. Around him lie large objects of primary colors set onto a white background.

“WE WILL BE BACK KIDDO’S AND WHEN WE RETURN WE WILL FINALLY GET TO SEE THE BLUE PLAYER IN ACTION!!”

He takes a great deep exaggerated breath while he makes time for a dramatic pause. Then rapidly leans back to his uncomfortable close up to mumble:

“just like anyother game show we gotta bunch a rules around here but unlike any other game-show we love cheaters, hah, so listen, or don’t listen, I don’t fucking care, HAH!, now okay you are basically for all-intents-and-purposes my little play thing only I give you an element of free will, OKAY!?!, so you oughta really take a moment and appreciate that …”

“TIMES UP, thank you and I gotta say you may be my slave but I will let you free all you gotta do is gather the items from your scavenger list and I mean just six items can’t be that hard you can easily do that in a lifetime, RIGHT?!?”

“GOOD!! I SURE FUCKING HOPE SO!!! fer yer sssake. I am the one that not only brought you here but essentially created you, I am you’re alpha and I am gunna be your omega so you see you oughta just stick with me and trust me your gunna have a GRAND! OLD! TIME!!”

His face has bursted into an intimidating excitement and he inhales again his mannerisms chalk full of exaggeration.

“So yer gunna be a good contestant and stick to the game and give us a good show right?? Yer gunna play this thing through like a fucking shakesperean comi-tragedy right to the fucking last scene getting them all in stitches, huh?? Yer gunna sing and scream bloody murder all night long??”

It is during this brief pause that you notice the children have stopped their incessant drone but you are not certain for how long it has been dropped.

“GOOD, BLUE PLAYER GOOD FOR YOU!! ALRIGHT, WERE BACK!!”

The children’s chorus of pain begins sounding again assaulting your ears from either side.

“OKAY, WELL WE HAVE GONE OVER ALL THE RULES AND THERE IS ONLY ONE THING TO ASK …”

The children and the clown scream in an ear-drum battering unison

“ARE … YOU ... READY???”

The final word is left with a pause lasting longer than the previous pauses in this conversation. You have a sick feeling in the bottom of your stomach as you feel you are being watched.

The television has grown silent and motionless besides the clown’s subtle sway and blinks. The pneumatic tube hisses and continues to slide in its downward motion. Your pulse throbs from the center of your chest and outward pressing at the very things strapping you in.

What do you do?

"OHH I CAN HARDLY TAKE THE ANTICIPATION!!!"

PSYCHO BILLY'S HOUSE OF SLAUGHTER

"HI KIDS!! DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS?? THAT'S RIGHT!! TIME FOR EVERYONE'S FAVORITE...

PSYCHO BILLY'S HOUSE OF SLAUGHTER"

*APPLAUSE*

"WE ARE STILL WAITING FOR CONTESTANTS. SO, IF YOU ARE 18 AND OLDER, AND LIKE VIOLENCE, MADNESS, AND HARROWING TALES OF SURVIVAL THEN GET YOURSELF THE PSYCHO-BILLY-EVALUATION-TEST AND FILL IT OUT NOW!!! DON'T FORGET TO SEND IT WITH A SELF ADDRESSED ENVELOPE SO WE CAN REPLY!!!"

*MUSIC*