Story 412: The Real Haunted House

 (Friend 1 and Friend 2 park in the overflowing lot at the multi-purpose farm, then head over to the main entrance to stand on the extremely long line for tickets)

Friend 2: (At the sign reading “Line Wait Time: Approx. 40 Minutes”) This place had better be worth the admission price, especially after last year’s debacle.

Friend 1: Hey, we both wanted to do something different then – is it my fault their only employee was an actual werewolf?

Friend 2: Keep your voice down: do you really want everyone here to know about that?

Friend 1: (Whispers) Oh right.  (Back to normal volume) You have to admit though, we were never in any real danger except what we inflicted upon ourselves.

Friend 2: I’d agree, if the place had been more upfront about the whole thing.

Friend 1: Where’s the scary fun in that?

Friend 2: (After a few moments of the line inching up and them staring out at the eerily twilit corn maze, eerily shadowed farmhouse, and eerily distant highway) So, this haunted house is just the usual actors jumping out at us and hidden speakers playing Halloween’s Greatest Hits and impressive decorations and screams all around, right?

Friend 1: (Stares at the farmhouse a bit longer, then turns to Friend 2 distractedly) Huh?

Friend 2: I said, this place just has regular human beings banging the walls and getting up in our faces in a less-than-30-story building, right?

Friend 1: Oh sure, sure.  (Stares at the farmhouse some more) Surrrrre….

Friend 2: (In a flat vice) What aren’t you telling me?

Friend 1: Oh nothing, nothing; this place just caught my eye `cause the ad said it was a “Real” Haunted House – they forgot the quotes around “Real,” though – I was tempted to call the newspaper’s advertising department but then realized it was this place that’d created the ad so they’d have to be the one to fix it and it’d be too late by now so, yeah.

Friend 2: (Staring at Friend 1) I’m going to remind you of this conversation after tonight’s certain disaster.

Friend 1: No need.

(An hour later, an employee leads Friend 1 and Friend 2 into the farmhouse with four other guests.  The employee is dressed as a lazy witch: half a hat, a shawl thrown over a sweater and jeans, and a fake wart threatening to fall off a cheek)

Employee: (Addressing the group inside the farmhouse after closing the front door) All right: this was a working farm in 1840-whatever; you can read all about the soul possession and nightly raves the family here had on the large sign you passed on the way in; follow the glow-in-the-dark arrows on the floors to navigate through the house and exit out the back; don’t touch anything; if you break any of the property you will be recorded on camera and billed starting at $200; I am legally required to remind you that any and all of the ghosts, goblins, ghouls, demons, monsters, trolls, zombies, etc., etc. you may or may not encounter are real due to the current property owner’s securing them for your entertainment, the effort of which is reflected in your ticket price; that purchase indemnifies and holds harmless said owner and all ghosts, goblins, etc., etc... that’s about it, have a spooktacular time, bye.  (Pushes through the group to exit the front door and lock it)

(The farmhouse is suddenly plunged into darkness when all the faint hall lights go out, save for the glowing arrows on the floor leading to a kitchen; a muted cackling is heard through the ceiling directly above their heads, a rattling chain speaks close by, and a neon digital clock on a wall buzzes to life and begins counting down from 30 minutes.  Most of the group pull out their cell phones and activate the flashlight app, illuminating their faces)

Friend 1: So, who’d like to go first?

Friend 2: That sounds like a volunteer.

Guest 1: All that stuff about the ghosts here being real was just a joke, right?  It’s just a bunch of teens and sound effects, right?  Right?!

Guest 2: You are not wimping out on me again this year!

Guest 1: I’m not wimping out!  It’s just sometimes people get carried away at these things – I’m only being sensibly cautious!

Friend 2: Supposedly, this is a really real haunted house.  As in, really-real.

Friend 1: Real is such a subjective term.

Friend 2: Is it?!

(Employee unlocks the front door and leans inside, knocking the half-hat even more askew)

Employee: Clock’s ticking, people, get a move on!

Guest 1: But –

Employee: No refunds!  (Slams the door and locks it again)

Guest 3: Guess that’s that, then: we have no choice but to go forth into the terrifying unknown.

Friend 2: Technically, we always have a choice –

Friend 1: No we don’t!  Onward!  (Leads the way to the sinister kitchen)

(As the group enters the room, there is movement by the low-lit fireplace; approaching, they see several trolls playing cards on the hearth)

Troll 1: King of clubs?

Troll 2: (Checks hand) Go fish.

Troll 3: (Sees the humans) Hi there!  Want us to deal you in?

Group: AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

(They flee the room, making sure to follow the arrows)

Troll 2: (To Troll 3) I keep telling you, don’t bother being friendly to them, they simply don’t appreciate it.

Troll 3: Can’t help myself.

(The humans run across the hallway to a family room, where cursed children are playing marbles and destroying the furniture)

Cursed Children: No grown-ups!  No curfew!  No rules!  Wheee!!!

Group (Except for Guest 4): AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Guest 4: What a bunch of brats!

(The cursed children simultaneously stop, turn to stare at the guests, and open their mouths)

Cursed Children: Waaaaahhhh!!!!

Friend 1: Oh no, crying children, my worst nightmare!

(The group run out of the room and are stymied by the arrows pointing in two directions, one set up the staircase and one set toward the open basement door)

Friend 1: Wanna split up?

Guest 1: Are you kidding?!  We’ll never be seen again!

Friend 1: How about we do the basement first and upstairs after?

Guest 1: Are you kidding?!  I don’t even do regular basements!

Guest 2: Wimp!

(Ominous banging and moans are heard from below)

Friend 1: Maybe we should take a vote.

Guest 1: Are you kidding?!

(A nearby speaker on the wall crackles)

Speaker: Keep moving, folks!  Don’t make us come in there and kick you all out!

Guest 3: Was that a ghost?

Guest 4: Nah, probably just the lazy witch again.

Friend 1: Executive decision!  (Runs full speed ahead down the basement stairs while the others stand and stare; within a minute, Friend 1 runs back up the stairs and slams the door shut, out of breath with an ashen face)

Friend 2: What was down there?

Friend 1: Bothing – noring – I mean bothering – let’s go upstairs!  (Runs up the stairs to the second floor)

(After hesitating a moment, the others run upstairs and they all follow the arrows to the master bedroom; upon opening the door, they see several vampires surrounding a pal drinking from a steaming goblet)

Vampires: Chug!  Chug!  Chug!  Chug!

(The group quietly closes the door and proceeds as a clump to the attic stairs)

Friend 1: Maybe the twist’ll be it’s just bats up there.

Friend 2: Not another word out of you.

(They creak up the stairs slowly; at the top, they see a variety of monsters gathered around a table that has a boatload of candles – a decaying ghoul is attempting to blow them all out.  Guest 1 points a shaking hand at an overhead banner that reads “HAPPY 4,287,633,815,990^TH BIRTHDAY!!!!”  After blowing out all the candles, the Birthday Ghoul is given a wrapped present by a banshee)

Birthday Ghoul: Aw, you guys, this really is too much!

Friend 1: (To Friend 2) Think we can ask for a piece of cake?

Friend 2: I doubt it’s meant for our digestive systems.

(Guest 2 is tapped on the shoulder and turns to see a smiling demon)

Demon: Howdy, sinner – you can come with me now.

Guest 2: (Steadily increasing in pitch) Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa – ?????!!!!!!

Guest 1: Oh go on – don’t wimp out on me!

(A human wearing a shirt that reads “SECURITY” bounds up the attic stairs and quickly squirts the demon with a spray bottle that has a cross printed on the label)

Demon: (Wiping face) Ow!  Right in my eye!

Security: No souls here, how many times do we have to tell you?!  (To Guest 2) You all right?

Guest 2: Whaaaaaa – ?!

Security: Good.  (Turns and heads back downstairs) You all have less than five minutes on the clock so exit the farmhouse immediately when you’re back on the first floor.

(The group starts to run downstairs; Friend 1 peaks back into the attic)

Friend 1: Happy Birthday!

Birthday Ghoul: (Waves the unwrapped present, which is a hand-knit shawl) Thank you!

(Friend 2 yanks Friend 1 down the attic stairs, and the group huddles together to run down the main stairs and head to the back door.  Before they reach it, a zombie hand pops up from the broken floorboards in front of them)

Group: AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Zombie: (Crawls up out of the floor and stands while brushing off dirt; small limbs also fall off) Am I too late?  Are you all on your way out?  (They nod in terror) Darnit – I snuck away for a quick break after the last group and lost track of the time.  Still, guess it won’t be a total loss.  (Clears throat and straightens up) Brains?

Group: AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

Zombie: (Takes a tally sheet out of a rotting pocket and makes a mark on it) Good, good – at this rate I’ll reach my quota by 11:00.

Group: AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Zombie: Oh sorry, you can go now. 

(The zombie steps aside and the group run out the back door, screaming all the way.  A figure suddenly blocks their path and they stop running but continue screaming)

Property Owner: Hiya, folks!  (They stop screaming) Thanks for visiting my Real Haunted House tonight, where everything you came across in there is an ab-so-lutely, 100%, genuine spook, straight from the afterlife! Would you mind taking an exit survey about your experience?  (Guests 1-4 resume screaming and run into the corn maze) Typical reaction.  (To Friend 1 and Friend 2) You two interested?

Friend 1: We get paid for it?

Property Owner: Free admission for another tour through the farmhouse – outhouse included this time.

Friend 2: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

Friend 1: This one’s easily spooked.  (Is faced with grinding teeth)

Property Owner: Maybe I’ll catch you folks later.  (Heads back to a trailer to continue watching the house’s security cameras while eating popcorn and laughing)

Friend 2: (Glaring at Friend 1) How do you keep finding these places?!

Friend 1: (Watching the lazy witch fly a motorized broom artfully across the full moon) Just lucky, I guess.

Story 340: Cooking by Substitution

[Online video titled “Remember to Insert Title Later”; currently has 5,372 views and two likes]

(In a home kitchen, Chef pops up from behind the counter)

Chef: Hello, culinary world, and welcome to the first episode of my new show, “Home Cooking Fancy Meals” – hold up, doesn’t sound right when I say it out loud – “Fancy Meals Using Home Cooking”?  “Fancy Cooking for Home Meals”?  “Fancy Home Cooking Fancy Meals”?  Whatever; I’ll figure it out later.  Now – (Heaves up a 16-quart stock pot from a lower shelf and drops it loudly onto the counter) let’s begin, shall we?

(Jump cut to Chef surrounded by vegetables, spices, and knives)

Chef: Our soup recipe calls for kale, but the store was all out when I went there and I am not going back again, so we’ll make do with chard – close enough, and soup’s not gonna complain, am-I-right?  (Begins chopping wildly; chard flies everywhere; this goes on for some time) 

Chef: (Wipes brow) Whoo, that was a workout – if any of you folks out there are ambidextrous, you can multitask by making dinner and having your arm day at the same time.  And on to the beans!  (Starts opening many cans) If the recipe calls for low sodium beans but your local store insists on only stocking triple-digit milligrams of the stuff, just run them under the water for a bit and wash all that heart-clogging salt down the drain, yippee!  (While rinsing beans in a colander, Chef picks up a can and reads the label) Huh, this was a low-sodium one after all – I retract my previous slander.  (Begins dumping beans into the pot) By the way, don’t feel obligated to get the exact type of bean listed in the recipe – when it comes down to it, a bean’s a bean’s a bean, know-what-I-mean, heh-heh-heh?  All the flavor’s gonna be cooked out of them anyway, so who cares if it’s kidney or cannellini?

Off-Screen Voice: That’s the same thing.

Chef: I told you earlier – you don’t exist in this video!

(Jump cut to more can-opening)

Chef: (Struggling with an opener on a small can) Now, you may find that when you start making your fancy meal, you picked up one item by mistake when the recipe calls for another – is it your fault you read “tomato paste” on your shopping list when your smudged handwriting actually said “tomato puree?”  (Finally removes the lid) Well yes, it is, but one makes do.  (Dumps tomato paste into the pot and stirs with resistance) Honestly, I think they just market different ways of chopping up the same vegetable to get you to buy more, don’t you agree?  Comment below!

Off-Screen Voice: Comments’ll say tomato’s a fruit.

Chef: Troll.

(Jump cut to Chef pouring broth into the pot)

Chef: Recipe says “12 ounces of chicken broth”; I got a quart of vegetable broth.  (Leans towards the camera to whisper) I won’t tell if you won’t.

Off-Screen Voice: You just told the world.

Chef: Oh for –

(Jump cut to a line-up of spices)

Chef: Right: fresh garlic, fresh basil, fresh parsley… don’t exist in this kitchen, so we’re using these handy-dandy dried-up versions.  (Begins sprinkling a bit of each into the mixture in the pot, which is now on the stove) And folks, don’t let little things like “teaspoons” and “cloves” and “liters” and whatnot scare you off: let your eye and your heart be the judge – cooking is by feel, dagnabbit!  (A lid on one of the containers falls off into the pot, with a bunch of the spice falling in after) Oops.  Reverse, reverse!  (Begins scooping out the lid and some of the excess spice with a spoon)

(Jump cut to closer view of Chef stirring a reddish mixture in the pot) Doesn’t really match the picture – but it never does, am-I-right?

            Off-Screen Voice: It should at least be close.

            Chef: Nobody asked you!

            Off-Screen Voice: You literally just did.

            (Chef throws a towel at the camera; jump cut to Chef turning down the heat on the stove)

           Chef: So, since it’s reached boiling, we’re now going to turn down the heat to let it simmer for… (Looks at a cookbook) four hours?!  That can’t be right; I’m hungry now!  (Looks closer at the page) Oh, this was supposed to be for a slow cooker.  Well, since I don’t have one, simmering on the stove for half an hour should be just as good if not better, don’t you agree?

            (Jump cut to Chef sitting at a table with a bowl of the soup and a spoon)

          Chef: And now, to taste the final results of all our hard work today!  (Eats a spoonful and smacks lips) Hm.  A bit bland, and more of a stew than a soup, but there you have it!  Fancy meal with all the self-contained trimmings, right in your very own home!  Thank you for watching; if you enjoyed this even a tiny bit, please hit “Like” and “Subscribe” below so I get sponsors and can embed commercials for them, thanks much, I love you all!

            Off-Screen Voice: You forgot the cheese topping.

            Chef: Turn off the camera.

Story 337: Television Test Studio

           (In an office, a television studio executive and an assistant are seated at a desk across from a potential showrunner)

          Showrunner: Thank you so much for meeting with me today – I’m very excited to pitch this series to you.

            Executive: Yes, we can tell.  The premise does sound intriguing, so I, too, am excited about all the money we stand to make off of this thing.

            Showrunner: Well, this has been a labor of love for the past 10 years of my life –

            Executive: None of that matters if no one watches past the first 10 minutes of Episode 1; now pitch it to me.

       Showrunner: [Pitches high-concept, epically worldbuilt, complexly characterized, subtly philosophical, soulfully resounding series]

            Executive: (Leaning back with wide-open eyes) Wow.

            Showrunner: You’re darn right “Wow”: this whole thing’ll blow everyone’s minds and change the landscape of television forever, again.  So, yeah, that’s how the series ends; I think it should take about 15 episodes to tell the story properly.

          Executive: Whoa-whoa-whoa, back up a second there; all that was just for one season?

           Showrunner: Well, yeah; I mean, it’s a pretty tight story that can be told in a short period of time – wouldn’t want to end on a cliffhanger and get cancelled, am-I-right?

            Executive: With that kind of attitude, you will be!

            Showrunner: Oh.  OK, I guess you could split the series over two seasons with about seven or eight episodes each.

          Executive: With all due respect to our cousins across the pond – what do you think this is, British broadcasting?!

            Showrunner: Ummm, sooo, what exactly do you want?       

            Executive: Five seasons minimum.

            Showrunner: (Laughs hysterically, then stops abruptly) Oh, you’re serious?

            Executive: I’d actually prefer the series to be extended indefinitely, but my experience in this business has taught me to manage my expectations.

            Showrunner: But – but – that’s completely unsustainable!  Do you know how long it took me to lovingly craft this exquisite work of art?!

            Executive: Ten years, and yet I don’t care: either figure out how to stretch the story out over five seasons of 20-plus episodes each using however many clip shows you need, or figure out what shenanigans the characters can repetitively get into after the ending you currently have.  Find a way to make it work, or you have no show.

            Showrunner: (Pulls hair in despair) I can’t just add to a finished story; it’s complete as it is now!

           Executive: Tell that to the sponsors – they’re not gonna invest in a one-off that builds an audience of consumers just to drop off suddenly in less than a year.  The viewers will tell you the same: I can see the comments now on how they wasted their precious leisure time and brain power on an immersive fantasy world and realistic characters that all up and vanished when one measly season’s over.  The fan fiction alone will eat you alive.

          Showrunner: But the story is over, don’t you get it?!  Anything past that will be a disgusting shadow of its former glory!

           Executive: This is TV – nothing is ever over.  You want it to end on your terms, you should’ve written a novel.

            Showrunner: But none of the cool people I want as fans would read it!

            Assistant: If I may interject?

            Executive: Oh, forgot you were here; go ahead.

            Assistant: This show may be the perfect opportunity to use the Test Studio.

            Executive: Oh, right, forgot that was here, too.  (To Showrunner) Interested?

            Showrunner: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

          Executive: You heard in the news about the mini-black hole discovered right here on Earth recently, yes?

            Showrunner: Yeah, it’s messed up literally everything – so?

            Executive: Well, our studio bought it and –

            Showrunner: What?!

            Assistant: We decided to utilize it to create a Television Test Studio, sort of like a test kitchen without the disastrous consequences.  (Takes out a computer tablet and displays convoluted diagrams) Turns out the black hole leads to an alternate universe with an Earth just like ours in every way, except not everyone there’s left-handed for some reason.

            Executive: It’s a real drag.

           Assistant: So, we can produce your show on that Earth for five seasons and judge the reactions of that audience to see if it would work here, without any of the risk or potential loss of profit on this end.

          Showrunner: (Stares at the diagrams) This is a life-altering, universe-impacting discovery, and you’re using it to test a TV show?!

            Executive: I know, isn’t it great?!  It’ll save us a fortune!

            Assistant: And time: there’s some kind of temporal dilation once you cross the event horizon, so we can do the five years over there and then come back here with extremely minimal loss of time on this end.

            Showrunner: But we’d get older!

            Assistant: Over there, yeah, but we’d supposedly get the years back when we come over here again, kind of like changing time zones or what-not.

            Showrunner: I don’t think that’s how it works.

            Assistant: What can I tell you: I don’t science, I television.

            Executive: So, are you in?

            Showrunner: I don’t know, this is all so weird….

            Executive: You want your series baby see the light of day or not?

            Showrunner: Where do I sign?

FIVE YEARS LATER

        (In an Alternate Earth office, Executive and Assistant are seated at a desk across from Showrunner)

            Executive: So!  Reviews for last night’s episode are in.

            Showrunner: (Slumped in the seat) I know, and I don’t want to read them.

            Executive: Oh come on, it’s gotta be a little flattering to read all those embittered fans saying you’ve lost your way – means they loved you at some point!

            Showrunner: They called the show a dumpster fire and wondered how I could’ve written such a great first season if all the others are such obvious money-grabs!

            Executive: Yes, but those same people still give us their money to watch it, so that’s really on them.

          Showrunner: They said the show should’ve ended after Season 1!  I told you this would happen – they hate it, and now they hate me, not you!

          Executive: Calm yourself: they’re still buying the other seasons en masse; I fail to see why you’re letting a few trolls get you down.

            Showrunner: They’re the same fans who loved Season 1!

            Executive: Audiences can be a fickle crew.

         Showrunner: And you even lost money when you made me write Season 3 to take place entirely in the characters’ minds!  The CGI was eye-bleedingly terrible, and all the actors wanted higher salaries because they were practically doing one-person shows!  In pantomime!

          Executive: Yes, I did hate giving into the divas, but we’d’ve lost half the audience if any of those guys had walked out before we got a chance to kill them off between seasons.

           Showrunner: That’s another thing!  You knew the lead villain was supposed to die at the end of Season 1 because the story was over, but you said the audience loved him too much so I had to keep resurrecting him even though it made no sense!  The actor’s been begging me to kill the character for years because he can’t make it believable anymore!

            Executive: Well, then he clearly does not take his craft seriously.

            Showrunner: Whatever.  Series finale is next week and it can’t come soon enough; I just won't read anything about how much everyone hated it, that’s all.

           Executive: Yeah, about that: the show’s still trending in the top 10, so I’d like at least two more seasons to maximize our returns – three, if I can be greedy.

            Showrunner: (Stares in horror) It has been bled beyond dry.  The critics are right: I have been making this up as I go along, for years!

            Executive: True, but they don’t need to have that theory confirmed, do they?

          Showrunner: What am I gonna do with these characters for another 20 episodes?!  They’ve already saved the world 100 times, plus they’ve all hooked up with each other and had 15 babies with three more on the way; what’s next, they colonize Mars?!

            Executive: (Starts writing on a notepad) Ooh, that’s a great idea –

           Showrunner: (Slams hand on the desk) No!  No-no-no!  You’ve already warped my beautiful creation into an unrecognizable mass of rubbish; this madness ends now!

            Assistant: If I may interject?

            Executive: Oh, sorry, forgot you were here; go ahead.

           Assistant: I think our testing phase is complete and has effectively demonstrated that this show should only have one season.

          Executive: Oh, right, also forgot that’s what we’ve been doing here.  (To Showrunner) All right, you win: the viewers have clearly spoken and want just the one perfect season, so we’ll go back to our universe now and go do that.

            Showrunner: (Bleary-eyed) I don’t even remember why we came here.

APPROXIMATELY FOUR YEARS EARLIER

        (In the Prime Earth office, Executive and Assistant are seated at a desk across from Showrunner)

            Executive: Well, well, well!  It’s not often that I’m wrong, but I do admit when I am – the show was a smashing success, the viewers are sad that it’s over but continue to rave about how awesome it was, and our ratings have never been higher, all thanks to you!

            Showrunner: Wow.  Thank you for saying that: this past year’s been an immense relief, let me tell you, and fulfilling on a deep, personal level, if I might add.

            Executive: I wish you wouldn’t.

            Assistant: If I may interject?

            Executive: You always do.

          Assistant: Now that this show is completely over, we have been looking at the possibility of at least 10 spin-offs –

            (Showrunner face plants onto the desk)

            Executive: Oh, don’t be so glum – we have a whole alternate universe Test Studio to try them out in first!