Ernie collides with me, and I try to catch him, steady him on his feet, but his momentum ends up taking us both down. We land on the ground with an audible thud!
Roll onto our hands and knees.
Eyes locked on the front seat of the disco car…
…where this totally naked dude with a grotesquely-proportioned wang is extricating himself from his totally naked and totally dead girlfriend who’s totally covered in neon goo and who’s totally missing large chunks of her skin.
“Shit on a stick,” Ernie breathes. “Is that dude eating his fucking girlfriend?”
The neon goo cannibal dude steps out of the car and glowers at us, and suddenly I hear myself thinking that all this time we’ve had rogue embers and dosequisvirus on our minds when it’s neon goo drive-in theater cannibal dudes we should’ve been worried about.
Ernie grabs me.
I grab him back.
Nuts to how gay we undoubtedly look.
“I’ve seen this before,” Ernie whimpers.
“Where?” I whimper back.
“Chillerama. 2011 horror film that’s even worse than Turbo Kid—”
“Never mind the critical review! What do we do?”
“No clue. I never saw the ending. I do know one thing, though…”
The neon goo drive-in theater cannibal dude licks his lips, wags his wang, smiles deviously at us.
“…this sure would be the perfect time for a cliffhanger.”
Thanks for reading!