…
…
…
[Editor’s Note: Erik? Are you there?]
Shhhh! I’m trying to hide!
[Editor’s Note: … Why?]
Because I don’t want to have to finish reviewing The ABCs Of Death! That movie is so bad, I think it gave me cancer! And I’m only at letter M! I still have 13 letters to go! Why the hell would I want to finish when I can just drink the pain away?!
[Editor’s Note: I’ll buy you more absinthe if you finish.]
DEAL.

“On demand everywhere”? The only people who’d demand this piece of crap is masochists and low class internet reviewers!
Okay, lets finish this terrible, nigh unwatchable anthology film! We start on letter N, and open with a man showing off his new parrot to his girlfriend. (And no, that’s not as sexy as it sounds.)
The girlfriend is unimpressed, so he lets it out of it’s cage to walk around on her counter. She is unimpressed, until he gets the bird to compliment her. And then, he pulls out a ring, and the bird proposes to her. I’m sorry, did I put the wrong movie in, or was this a fucking horror movie?!
The music starts swelling as the girlfriend says yes, until the parrot starts narrating his (the man, not the parrot) affair from the night before. Which leads to the parrot orgasming as the girlfriend repeatedly stabs him and blood pours all over the camera. Note to self, never have an affair with a parrot. “N is for Nuptials”, apparently.
…
Moving on.
We cut to extreme close-ups of a woman getting eaten out, inter-cut with close-ups of a cigarette until the woman gasps and a bubble floats out of her mouth which she examines until it pops which is when everything goes red and somebody presses a cigarette in to a Barbie doll and then everything goes back to normal which is when he keeps eating her out so she gasps and lets out a whole cloud of bubbles and then leather gloves cover her all over and pull out her eye and so she gasps more bubbles and there are close-ups and blurs and she orgasms and more gloves and she gets whipped and strung up and glass shatters and a cigarette pops a bubble and “O is for Orgasms” and- and- and- and- and- and- and- and- and- and- and- and- and- and- and- and- and- and-
…
CRITICAL ERROR.
CRITICAL ERROR.
PLEASE REBOOT REVIEWER.
SCANNING DATABASE.
DICK JOKES DOWNLOADED.
OBSCURE REFERENCES DOWNLOADED.
PURPLE DOWNLOADED.
WOULD YOU LIKE TO DELETE CORRUPTED FILES? (Y/N)
(Y)
O IS FOR ORGASMS DELETED.
VALENTINE’S DAY, 2013 DELETED.
WET DREAM, SUBTITLE: “BUZZ LIGHTYEAR” DELETED.
REBOOTING.
– annnnnnnnd where was I? I’m sorry, I just kind of blanked out for a minute.

And why does everything taste like blue?
On to our next letter! We open with a street light, which is hastily cut away for a young girl admiring a bike, which itself is hastily cut away for a woman with little kids in a parking lot. Good god, this is the theatrical equivalent of ADHD.
A shirtless man greets them all, and we cut (GODDAMMIT) to them frolicking in a pool. Which lasts for exactly five seconds before we cut (GODDAMMIT) to them going to bed, Then we cut (GODDAMMIT) to them eating breakfast. Then we cut (GODDAMMIT) to them at the mall. Tell you what, how about the next thing we cut is the fucking editor.
The woman looks at a bike, so we cut (GODDAMMIT) to her counting money and figuring out when the girl’s birthday is. Then, we cut (GODAMMIT) to her sitting across two men, which means we cut (GODDAMMIT) to her in bed with one of them. And in case you think, “oh, so we’ll at least get to watch a full sex scene without edits”, then you clearly suck at pattern recognition!
We cut (GODDAMMIT) to the shirtless man having a drink, then we cut (GODDAMMIT) to him rummaging through the little girl’s house as they sob in the corner, then we cut (GODDAMMIT) to the woman trolling for customers at a nightclub, and a man leaves her a business card, so we cut to her sobbing at home. “Oh god, I just realized what movie I’m in!”
We cut (GODDAMMIT) to the next morning, where the woman pays her rent with sex. Gosh, can’t you just tell this is a horror movie?
We cut (GODDAMMIT) to her at the nightclub, and she decides to call the business card. We cut (GODDAMMIT) to him leading her to a terrarium of mice and kittens. She puts her stilettos on, pulls a kitten out of the box… and stomps on it.
…
…
…
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!

I mean, SERIOUSLY.
Our title card, “P is for Pressure”, pops up, and we cut (GODDAM- oh wait, never mind) to a film crew getting ready while a topless woman snorts cocaine backstage. Great, we’re five seconds in and we’ve already dipped our heads in to the toilet of no class. LET THE FUN TIMES ROLL!
We then cut to a writer and producer discussing how this “is a fucking disaster”, and “none of it is working”. Oh, so at least you know!
They point the camera at the woman as she stands in front of the green screen and starts screaming while the writer and producer look on disapprovingly. Oh my god, they know they suck? Can I leave now?
At a canal, the two discuss how unlucky they are to get stuck with the letter Q, and… holy hell, is that… it is! It’s Billionaire Bot from V/H/S 2! So THAT’S why this segment doesn’t make me want to swallow my own kidney!
They talk about how unfair it is that they’re stuck with Q, and wonder how they’re going to make a movie with only 5000 dollars (Good god, these people got 5000 dollars to play with for their shorts? I could eat that money and crap a better film), until they finally hit upon the idea of killing something in their segment to make it stand out!
Um. Did you watch the last segment? ‘Cause, they had a hooker curb stomping a kitten. Kinda hard to beat that.
In the desert, they’ve dragged out a duck in a cage and are ready to shoot it. They have two gun, a camera, a boom operator, and are ready to murder the duck! Yeah, fuck you, Mister Quackers!
While struggling with the safeties, Billionaire Bot and Mr. Not Ready For Prime Time shoot each other in the chests, signalling the “Q is for Quack” title card. Well, it was dull, not even slightly scary, and still the best segment so far! And it washed the taste of kitten out of my mouth!

Not… not literally. There weren’t actually kittens in my mouth.
God, what a poor movie, where “not offensive” is the best fucking compliment you can give it.
We cut to a bloody lab, with a man tied to a chair with a catheter labelling DVDs. My god, it’s the editor! It all makes sense now!
Two men standing by a receptionist are laughing politely as they watch a train… apparently, and back with the editor, a nurse takes the marker away from him. Yes, finally, somebody is stopping him!
A surgeon in black scrubs looks on disapprovingly as she removes the editor’s bandages, revealing the fact that he’s apparently beef jerky. A surgeon in blue starts cutting flesh off of him, presumably in an attempt to create the world’s best snack food.
Meanwhile, in a dark room, film is being developed by a surgeon. “This is always the hardest part of the job… sir, your photos have AIDS. … How exactly did that happen, by the way?”
Back with the editor, he’s been dressed in a poncho and wheeled outside in to a cage, where cameras and whooping invisible onlookers are ready to leer over him. Then, the cage is opened, and the masses swarm in and start trying to lick him. “Oh god, he IS the world’s best snack food!”
More chunks are sliced off our editor, until he’s left alone with one of the doctors and kills him with a chain and a bowl of pus. Eww, GROSSALITY.
He takes a chunk, treats it in some fluid, turns it in to a bullet, grabs a gun, and murders everyone on his way out. He finds his way to a train yard, where he collapses. Which is apparently the sign for “rain of blood”. “R is for Removed.” And by ‘removed’, I assume they mean they removed all the answers, boom!

“I’ll let whoever can drink this fruit juice live!”
We cut to a woman kicking a barricade down and crawl through, dragging another woman along while holding a gun to her head. A man in leather follows right behind them, but he takes a couple bullets to the head and keeps on walking. Oh no, it’s a walking S&M dungeon!
The woman tosses her captive in to her trunk, and pulls out a flame thrower to toast Senior Leather. That obviously doesn’t work, so she speeds off, with her captive swearing in the trunk.
…
…
…
Wasn’t this a horror movie at one point?
Senior Leather is following behind in a truck, so our heroine pulls over, and offers the captive, in exchange for mercy. He says “no chance, sweatpants”, and he palms away her soul.
… whiiiiiich is when she wakes up in a crack den, and dies.
OH SNAP YOU DOWN RIGHT M NIGHT SHYMMALANANANANED MY ASS.

Pictured: The face of subtlety.
“S is for Speed”, in case you’re curious, and we’re off to… a claymation segment.
Oh, lord.
This horrible, horrible, HORRIBLE claymation family (seriously, this stuff looks terrible) is teaching the son how to use the toilet, while discussing all the people who’ve died on toilets. GREAT PARENTING SKILLS!
They stand there, staring at him as he tries to poop (wow, this got creepy fast) but he quickly runs off, just before it starts flooding green goop. This is, of course, the warm up routine, as it then grows eyes and a mouth. A mouth? You know, taste buds are generally not ideal on pooping appliances.
It starts choking the dad with the chain, and when the mom tries to help by squishing one of the eyes, she gets acid in her face for her troubles, then is chomped in half. Wait, so you’re saying this DOESN’T happen to most people when they try to use the toilet? Weird.
Something weird, possibly involving a tongue, happens to the dad, and he’s turned in to a fine pink mist. Which… is when it turns out to be a dream! So, of course, that means when the kid tries to use it in real life, the toilet bowl crushes him with a single sickening thud.
And nothing of value was lost.

And if you can’t guess what the “T” stands for, I will lose all respect for you and punch you.
U opens with several sickening noises, until some men manage to free our POV protagonist from the black screen. He naturally returns the favour by trying to kill them, and no amount of axe blows can kill him. By the gods… it must be Jesus!
SO I SAID IT, SO IT MUST BE CANON.
A man with a cross runs over and starts chanting something, like all men with crosses are legally required to do, until Jesus runs away in to the forest. He comes across a young woman, and blesses her. By tearing her throat out, obviously. How else would you bless someone?
The whole woods are alight with fire and activity as they hunt Jesus down, until after a firey crossbow bolt to the arm, they manage to hold him down long enough to crucify him, 21st century style. And by that, I mean they tear his fangs out, stake him through the heart, and hack his head off with an axe.
Tut tut tut, and the Second Coming has come to an end once again. What a shame.

“Not the face, not the face!”
“U is for Unearthed”, says the fancy-schmancy title card, and we open with the mean, dystopic, cyberpunk streets of New Vancouver, and wow, I never thought I’d get to say that again! Today’s a good day,
A cell of what appears to be rebels are doing generally rebelly things, when a giant robot and some ninja chick burst in and start shooting up the place. She eventually finds a couple hiding in a shipping container with a baby, and is about to take it away, when the woman plays the Jedi Mind Trick card.
“UM. LADY? YOU DO KNOW THAT DOESN’T WORK ON ROBOTS, RIGHT?”
The robot goes berserk and slaughters them all, which is when the rest of the police file in, and talk about how the rebels were psychic, and the police are planning to siphon out their brains to learn stuff, and the baby was running around killing people, and then the robot shot his head, and police chief was evil, and then the cry of the baby made the chief’s head explode and- and- and-
COULD WE MAYBE HAVE A LITTLE LONGER RUNTIME, PRETTY PLEASE?!

“Editing does not compute!”
“V is for Vagitus”, whatever the fuck that means, and we cut to… you know what, fuck this whole thing. This entire time segment is nothing but utter nonsense, because “W is for WTF”, and this entire thing is nothing but intentional randomness, and I’m not going to justify this with attention.
Our next letter opens with a woman in a subway station. She and a men get on the subway at the same time, and as they sit down, he takes the time to insult her weight. Congratulations, sir! You’re a dick!
As she goes about her day, a collection of the biggest dicks in France make sure to insult her about her weight, presumably because French people have no souls.
When she finally gets home, she immediately decides to prove all those people wrong by eating everything in her fridge, including a bottle of oil and a jug of mayonnaise, all at the same time.
You’re… you’re really not helping your case here, sweetie. Oh, but she does it while a diet show plays on the TV, so it’s alright then.
She strips, heads to the bathroom, and decides to cut away fat the old fashioned way… with a knife! And, after all’s said and done… she dies.
…
I’m sorry, what did you think would happen?

“And the fat just walks away!”
“X” was apparently for “XXL” (oh, dick move), and our next segment opens with a teenagers filing in to a high school. And then we cut to a creepy man getting a little kid to shoot a deer with a bow and arrow. And the first person to make a “touch my long, hard shaft” joke dies in a fire.
Back to the high school, said creepy old man is moping the floor, and creepily stalking the pre-teen basketball game. Annnnnnd the repulsion just keeps RAMPING UP!
He sees the deer creature just before the bell rings, but after all the students leave again, it’s gone. Oh well, I guess that means it’s time to sneak in to the gym and lick up the little boys’ sweat!
…
Wait, no, that’s totally not what that means.
The deer shows up again, and a flashback reveals that he molested the boy after they killed a deer together. So, fittingly, it turns out that the boy was wearing the dear head! He stabs the old man through the head, tosses it through the basketball hoop, “Y is for Youngbuck”, and we can finally get away from this creepy as fuck story!

I HAD TO SEE THIS, NOW YOU DO TOO.
On to our final fucking segment, FINALLY! We open to some garbled narration which I can’t actually understand, over pictures of an eye… and a naked woman holding a gun to some naked Japanese men’s heads as they make sushi.
…
WHAT.
…
WHAT.
…
WHAT.
We see a creepy man in a wheelchair, watching approvingly, and as someone else starts talking about sushi, the woman shoots the naked men. Rice flies everywhere and she’s wearing a Nazi hat, because why the fuck not, the alcohol just kicked in!
A women with a flashlight finds the rice caked corpses and slips, as the wheelchair man talks about their technology as a nigh naked woman skips through a stage, while the naked Nazi comes in with a giant realistic penis which then grows a katana blade and slices the naked women in her vagina, which ’causes her to explode blood and sparks while the wheelchair man talks about race relation and a woman covered in moths comes in so the Nazi pulls out her penis, which leads to a, I swear to god I’m not kidding, a naked kung fu between two women involving moths and razor blade cocks and smacking each other with their tits and launching vegetables across the room with nothing but vagina propulsion only for them to be sliced in half and thrown in a pot by the blade cock only for moth lady to grab the blade and use it to slice the cock in to pieces which fall in to the pot and cause rice to go everywhere so the two start making out as a panel of naked judges with suits drawn on in marker start examining the soup they just made and then the women start rubbing each other all over with sticky rice as they make out and we get a close-up of tits with the Twin fucking Towers on one tit and a plane on the other with the caption “9/11” and an ass with “3.11”, the date of a Japanese earthquake with a Japan also drawn on there and then THE PANEL OF JUDGES ARE WEARING NUCLEAR HATS THAT SAY “LITTLE BOY” ON THEM AS THE NAZI WOMAN IS STANDING THERE WITH LEGS FLOATING BEHIND HER IN THE SHAPE OF THE SWASTIKA AND THE WHEELCHAIR MAN IS YELLING RACIST REMARKS AS THE PANEL AND THE NAZI BLAST OFF IN TO THE SKY AND THE WHEELCHAIR MAN PROUDLY STANDS UP AND DISPLAYS HIS ERECTION AS HE CUMS RICE ALL OVER THE SCREEN AND Z IS FOR ZETSUMETSU AND- AND- AND- AND- AND- AND- AND- AND- AND- AND- AND- AND- AND- AND- AND- AND- AND- AND- AND- AND- AND- AND-
CRITICAL ERROR.
CRITICAL ERROR.
ABORT.
DOES NOT COMPUTE.
REBOOT REVIEWER.
PLEASE CALL TECHNICAL SUPPORT.

Some heavily, HEAVILY censored proof that I’m not just making all that up!
SO. That… was The ABCs Of Death! How was it? Well, I think the only way to properly encapsulate it… is through song! Hit it, Paul!
Ahem!
A is for Assness and Asinine plots,
B’s for Bad acting, Bad writing, Bad shots!
C is for Culling an-y sense of joy,
D is for happiness, slowly Destroyed!
E is for Everyone should be ashamed,
F is for Fuck you all, one and the same!
G is for Go to hell, slowly but surely,
H is for “How’s this supposed to be scary?”
I is for Idiots running this show,
J is for Jacking off, what a way to go!
K is for Killing me slowly with bad,
L is for Losing what mind that I had!
M is for Mindfucks instead of a plot,
N is for Nothing’s as bad as this rot!
O is for ERROR. MEMORY DELETED.
P is for Poop jokes, so often repeated!
Q’s for the only decent segment this had!
And actually, R also wasn’t that bad!
S is for Sucking on global proportions!
And T’s for no Talking in these viewing abortions!
U’s for Under the ground, where this should have stayed!
V’s for the Vengeance the Viewer now craves!
W is for Weeping, which is how this must end!
X is for XXL buckets of amends!
Y is for You, who must surely be tired!
And Z is for blackout, and with that, I retire!
Zzzzzzzz…