REASONS I’D TAKE THE DAY OFF:
1: I’ve been replaced by a robot.
2: Either I’m stopping a serial killer, or becoming one.
3: New video game.
4: New erotica.
6: Some bizarre combination of those two things.
7: I’m a dick, and fuelled by pettiness.
8: I physically can’t stand up, without the help of trained hummingbirds.
9: Everything’s on fire.
10: IT IS MOTHERFUCKING HALLOWEEN.
TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN.
TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN.
TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN.
TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN.
TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN.
TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN.
TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN.
TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN.
TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN.
TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN.
TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN.
TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN.
TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN.
TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN.
TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN.
TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN.
…
Did I mention tomorrow is Halloween?
IT’SONLYTWODAYSTILLHALLOWEEN.
IT’SONLYTWODAYSTILLHALLOWEEN.
IT’SONLYTWODAYSTILLHALLOWEEN.
IT’SONLYTWODAYSTILLHALLOWEEN
IT’SONLYTWODAYSTILLHALLOWEEN
…
Sorry, sometimes I get overexcited. Anyway, Omegle lets me connect with random people, they ask me questions, I mock them. You get the gist. Don’t ask any questions, just lie back and think of England.
Ahem!
You horny?
No, me scaly.
People say God is all good and a father but say He uses sickness to teach.If that’s true a parent runs their kids over with a car to teach them to stay out of the road,should they called a good parent
… All I took away from that is that I need to hit more kids with cars.
And I have no problem with that!
HAPPY NEW YEAR
Goddammit, who told the time travellers about Omegle?!
14 year old guy looking to flirt with literally anybody
Literally anybody?
…
So, for example, you’d flirt with… (deep breath), Hitler, Stalin, Davros, a plank of wood, a spambot, plankton, a pane of glass, Michael Jackson’s corpse, Hilary Clinton in a clown suit, low room temperature, pocket lint, the sun itself, yourself from the past, some bizarre combination of all those things?
I’m going to kill myself, how should I do it?
Load yourself in to a cannon, and fire yourself at a cannon full of wild coyotes!
Morality test. If you saw your neighbor and your dog drowning and you were to save only one who would it be?
I’D SAVE THE WATER.
FOOLPROOF.
tell me something about you?
Well, I haven’t told anyone this before, but one night, in a Bangkok prison, I took a knife and a small boy and- my lawyers have instructed me not to finish this sentence.
Need a little whore to get me off.
Wouldn’t you want a bigger whore? I mean, just pound for pound? My anaconda don’t want some, ‘less you got buns, hun, and all that?
This man is bad at whores.
Pretend to have sex
“I’m sorry, honey, I’m just not in the mood tonight. Maybe next time?”
(Am I doing this right?)
The stranger you are talking with is trying to kill you, what is your next course of action?
Profess my love to him! It’ll make my final moments REALLY awkward for him!
“Um. Call you later?”
Welcome back to Freshly Riffed, the only web series where IT IS ONLY THREE DAYS TILL HALLOWEEN!
“Really? We couldn’t tell.”
According to the Halloween store I’ve holed up in, Freshly Riffed is where I make fun of the titles of Freshly Pressed blog posts. Also, you’ll never take me alive, retail workers! MWA HAH HAH HAH!
Each title will be linked to the original author, and remember; All mockery is for mockery’s sake only.
Ahem!
“Dude.” – Mr. Reeves. Truly, a man of many words. And all of them are “dude”.
The Line Between Madness And Magic
It’s a thin line, composed entirely out of squirrels and buttons.
“Take Nothing But [Fill In The Blank]”
Take Nothing But My Virginity.
Dammit! If only you had said “inconceivable” instead, I could has made a beautiful Princess Bride reference!
“Not making a Princess Bride reference? INCONCEIVABLE!“
I Was Questioned By The Police
Oh, it’s the wacky new game show that’s sweeping the nation!
The first person who says “he’s climbin’ in yo’ windows, he’s snatching your people up” gets a swift kick to the groin.
20 Signs You Really, Really Hate People
18: You’ve killed a baby.
19: You’ve set bamboo traps inside funeral parlours.
20: You’re secretly Hitler.
Oh my god, I get so much mileage out of this picture!
… says the man to the hungry cannibal.
Ah, what a lovely day! A fine mist is in the air, the sun is shining in the sky, and- OH FUCK THE MISTS ARE FULL OF SPIDERS.
The System’s Out Of Order, And The Fire Hasn’t Even Started Yet
Wait for it…
…
Wait for it…
…
Wait for it…
…
Okay, there we go, everything’s on fire!
My work here is done!
…
…
…
[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…
You know, I see a lot of movies die halfway through, but it’s rare for the entire thing to die before you’re done saying the title. And on that note, The ABCs Of Death!
One of these is the utter personification of death itself… and the other one’s holding the book.
The idea was simple: An anthology horror film, with one segment off of each letter of the alphabet. Annnd therein lies our problem! With a running time of 123 minutes and 26 letters, that means we can only devote 4.73 minutes to each segment! You couldn’t cook an egg in that time, never mind tell a compelling story! And if we assume V/H/S 2 was correct in it’s assumption that it takes at least 15 minutes to create a comprehensive short, then we’d need 390 minutes of film, or, in simpler terms, a six and a half hour runtime!
…
And yes, I took the time to calculate that! Shut up! Let’s get this over with!
Ahem!
The film opens with a screen explaining the premise, including the fact that each piece has a different director, a word starting with their letter, and full artistic freedom. Great, so it’s not a film, it’s 26 art students whacking off for two hours.
We then cut to a random shots of what I’m pretty sure is supposed to be blood (but looks like chocolate sauce) oozing through a house, including through alphabet blocks, until they spell out the title. I’m assuming they had to flood a house with blood half a dozen times before they did that.
We cut to a man in a bed, eating some bread. Then, his wife enters the room with a knife. “You’re hogging the sheets again, you bastard!” She starts stabbing at him, and manages to slice his hand in half and get him in the neck before she leaves. “You know, most people just say hello, sweetie!”
She leaves, and comes back with a frying pan full of oil to throw at his face. The oil, I mean, she doesn’t just throw the frying pan at him! No no no, she whacks him with that!
What is this, “A is for Attack Of The Housewives”?
It finally seems like he’s dead, so the woman tearfully admits that she’s been poisoning him for a year now, but because of what she’s seen on the news, she’s had to resort to this. FOX NEWS: THE HORRIBLE TRUTH.
She cuddles up beside him as the window suddenly turns bright red, and we cut to the title card, ‘A Is For Apocalypse’. So… what, the world’s over now? Why was she trying to kill him? Why was the world ending? Why was it so red? Why was he so hard to kill? Why wa- OOPS NO TIME FOR QUESTIONS ON TO THE NEXT SHORT.
(I hope you can see the problem here.)
We cut to the next segment, with two people making out on the couch. A little girl walks in and complains that she can’t sleep. Ooh, cockblocked by the nine year old!
They discuss how taking care of the girl was apparently a condition of his parents… or her parents… look, they’re speaking in Spanish, we’re lucky I’m picking up any of this.
To calm the girl down and get her to sleep, they talk about the Snowman of Mexico, and how he’ll tear out her heart if she’s not in bed at night. And how he has a wagon and rings a bell and screams. (They’re not very good storytellers when they’re horny.)
So while they sneak off to fuck, the girl starts tossing and turning, and we see a creepy garbage collector stop by. One jump cut later, and they’re missing their hearts… only for him to suddenly leave, ’cause the girl is counting sheep. And we get our title, ‘B is for Bigfoot’.
…
First of all, that wasn’t Bigfoot. Second of all, that wasn’t fucking Bigfoot. And third of all… what the fuck was that?!
“We’re dead! Or maybe not! Man, that 4.73 runtime is a bitch, huh?”
No time for questions! Onward to segment three! A guy, Bruce, is watering some plants when he sees some blood on the ground. Annnnd that’s enough of that scene! We cut to Bruce being woken up by his girlfriend to check out a sound. He finds nothing… and that’s enough of that scene!
We cut to the next morning, with his girlfriend waking him up to check something out. He can’t find her, and instead finds the hose leading in to a hole in the bush. And… cut to him waking up outside! What the hell? Is the editor drunk, or is the writer silently rebelling against having to write this crap?
Bruce walks in to the house, only to find himself sleeping, along with the girlfriend. He freaks out and hides behind the couch, only to hear this past iteration of Bruce also go out to try and find the mysterious voice, and also failing. Oh, so it’s a mystical time travelling bush? Not to be confused with the hedge of destiny, of course.
The next morning, the girlfriend walks in to the bush, and while Our Bruce is investigating, Past Bruce sneaks up behind him, kills him with a garden hose and shoves him in to the bush. Which is when we go back to the beginning, with Our Bruce now becoming that bloodstain at the beginning! And we cut to “C Is for Cycle”.
You know, they keep boasting about how this movie has 26 different horror directors. Well, maybe that would have worked better if they hired some actual FUCKING WRITERS!
I see the directing credit, but the writing credit is mysteriously absent…
On to the D! We see a man getting ready for a fight in a dark fighting ring. I swear, if this turns out to be “D is for Don’t Talk About Fight Club”, I’m shutting this damn thing off.
It turns out the man’s opponent is a dog, and the two of them fight in slow motion for a while. And a while. And a while. And a while. And a while. And a while. And a while. And a while. And a while. And a while. And THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE THE ABCS OF DEATH, NOT THE ABCS OF MICHAEL VICK.
Eventually, the dog take him down and gets his teeth in to his throat, a fact that everyone involved is apparently perfectly okay with! The man takes says a single muted word, and the dog stands down. Turns out he was the dog’s owner, and when the dog was stolen to fight in this ring, he decided to infiltrate it. And we cut to later, when the duo have apparently murdered everybody in the ring.
…
This is a… happy ending?
After our expected “D is for Dogfight”, we cut to a CGI red spider walking up a wall. A man walks over to his computer and starts reading something that is most decidedly not “A Very Strange Place”, when he notices the spider. And so, he squashes it. Wow, this segment is even shorter than the others!
No? It’s still going? DAMMIT.
END! WHY WON’T YOU JUST FUCKING END!
The spider somehow manages to escape that and chomps on his delicious, delicious neck, and we cut to a couple days later. In the morning, he’s rubbing his bite mark on his neck, and at night, the spider crawls across his face and bites him some more. Wow, this spider is a dick.
Over the course of the week, we see our “hero” talking to his family, watching internet videos, masturbating (great, now I’ll never maintain an erection again, thanks for that), all while more and more spider bites appear. Finally, he sees the spider again… and finally squishes it!
WHY WAS THAT SO HARD?!
He suddenly starts twitching, and just before “E is for Exterminate” appears, a hoard of baby CGI spiders crawl out of his ears. Oh god, I’ve seen better spider effects from Eight Legged Freaks!
Next, we cut to Japan, with a Japanese schoolgirl explaining her views on gods… and then she farts.
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[Editor’s Note: Erik? Are you okay?]
Yeah, I just… I just need a minute.
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Okay, lets go.
She talks in her narration about how wonderful her school teacher, Miss Yumi is, and how she makes her feel yearning in her breast, and wondering if Miss Yumi can also fart- OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE.
Suddenly, a toxic gas erupts through the city (“I wonder if it’s a black gas from the ass of god.”) and the schoolgirl and Miss Yumi hide, as the schoolgirl admits how she wants to taste Miss Yumi’s gas.
And… she says yes.
…
It looks like this just got DANGEROUSLY EROTIC.
Oh god, I can’t believe this is happening.
So, as the city around them succumbs to the toxic black gas, Miss Yumi farts in the schoolgirl’s face with a cloud of sparkly cheeto covered farts as they both get off and choir music plays in the background until Miss Yumi sucks her in to her butt.
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WHAT.
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WHAT.
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WHAT.
Inside Miss Yumi’s golden shiny butt and now naked, they talk about going past the boundaries of good taste (YOU PASSED THAT TEN FUCKING MINUTES AGO) and start making out. Then they start farting bloody farts, we get the title card, ‘F is for Fart’ and fuck you, we’re fucking leaving, and if anyone brings up this fucking thing ever again, I’m burning the fucking site down and collecting the fucking insurance.
Don’t tempt me, matches are cheap.
We open to a POV shot of somebody grabbing their surfboard and heading down to the beach. He leaps in to the water and starts paddling. Soon, after much splashing, he ends up in the water. Great, we went from nightmarish to dull as fuck.
After the entire runtime just floating underwater, we cut to the title card: “G is for Gravity”.
…
That is fucking cheating, and you know it.
Our H opens with a CGI shot of a nightclub, when we cut to a dishevelled bulldog in an aviator uniform, watching a fox woman in a navy outfit dance onstage. Shouldn’t we have saved this for F? You know, “F is for Fucking Furries”?
It’s clear from his baring of teeth that he’s in to her, as well as his cartoonish stretching of eyeballs to examine her ass as she’s moaning and rubbing her tits, and said eyeball stretching carries him across the room on to the stage just as she pulls her top off and reveals her tits and if it seems like I’m trying to get this out of the way as fast as possible, it’s only because I am. There’s only so many times I can scream “what the fuck”!
Although, speaking of which… WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK.
Now with her ‘foxy tits’ out, the bulldog is fully distracted… which is when it turns out she’s a Nazi anthropomorphic fox! Of course, a classic maneuver! She grows claws, and a tiny tank rolls out from backstage with stops beneath the dog’s legs, which is when it punches the bulldog in the crotch so hard his balls fly out of his mouth so the fox can grab them and wrap them around a nearby periscope and it’s here that I have to remind you that I am making absolutely none of this up.
She pulls out a giant lever with a control board attached, and pulls it, causing the periscope to electrify. and a trap door full of electrified water and spikes to open, and a collection of tanks with bear traps to snap at him, but looking at his locket with a picture of his daddy dog fills him with the passion needed to stick his feet in the trap tanks, roll over to the stripper fox, punch her in to the water, hit the switch to cause the periscope to drop in to her vagina and kill her by electrifying the water and explode her and OH GOD WHERE IS THE ABSINTHE! LET ME DRINK THE PAIN AWAY!
Finally, we get our title card, “H is for Hydro-Electric Diffusion”. Now, one might reasonably say, “but hydro-electric diffusion has nothing to do with World War 2 era furry snuff porn”, but I’m sure if you pointed that out to the director, he’d just say, “hey, you should just leave me and my incredibly specific fetish alone!”.
If you’re still here after all that, then we cut to a man sitting on the toilet with a needle and a red bottle. Dude, it’s a lot simpler if you get an iPhone while you poop.
He walks over to the bathtub and pulls aside the curtain to reveal a tied up woman who starts narrating vague exposition, because that’s just how you roll when you’re kidnapped, homeboy.
He injects her with the needle and runs off, which results in her scratching open wounds in herself. Hey, look, it’s the first mildly disconcerting scene! Who wants to bet it won’t last!
“Grab on, quick! I’m the only interesting character!”
After vomiting through her gag, she manages to drop the shower curtain on her head. Oh, yeah, that accomplished a lot.
Finally, she’s dead, and with out “I is for Ingrown” title card out of the way, we cut to a Japanese man in a white headband straining at nothing, when we cut to a different Japanese man looking surprised. Why do I have the strange feeling this segment won’t be big on plot?
The first guy starts contorting his face is various ways, some special effects, some him just looking like a jackass, while the second guy sweats and looks scared. Eventually the first guy’s eyes fall out of his head and they start clacking together like desk balls.
[Editor’s Note: They’re called a Newton’s Cradle.]
THEY’RE CALLED WHAT EVER I WANT THEM TO BE CALLED.
SUCK MY DESK BALLS.
This has apparently scared off the second guy, who is about to run of when somebody offscreen tells him to hold still. It turns out that, not only is the offscreen guy no actually there there, but the first guy has been committing seppuku the whole time, and it’s the second one’s job to make his vorpal sword go snicker-snack.
Presumably all those faces where in his head, but we just have to guess on that part, because after the “J is for Jidai-Geki” title card, we’re moving on! No time to questions, just lie back and think of England.
Our new segment is animated (oh my!) and opens with a woman in a party dress… pooping.
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I hate this so much.
Turns out her poop refuses to flush no matter what, and after using all the toilet paper and flooding it, she’s stuck with no way to get her apparently Flubber poop in the toilet. I’m sorry, was I confused, or IS THIS A FUCKING HORROR MOVIE?!
I’ve reviewed a lot of horrible horror movies before, but this is like an experiment by the world’s worst directors to create the world’s LEAST WATCHABLE MOVIE EVER.
After several minutes of the world’s worst slapstick, she finally uses her bra to bunch up her poop and flush it again. Annnnd of course it doesn’t work. Why would it work? That would just be proof of a loving god.
It sneaks on to the ceiling, so while she’s on all fours and her dress hikes up, her poop takes the opportunity to fall back in to her butt and drill through her entire body, killing her instantly.
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Still better than that fart one.
After our “K is for Klutz” title card, we cut to two burly sweaty men strapped to chairs while a collection of people in animal masks look on. I’m assuming this is the gritty “What Does The Fox Say” remake?
(Yes, this is to make up for not making that joke with the Nazi fox. I apologise for nothing.)
A naked woman walks in front of them as “stage one” appears on the screen. The men start shaking and groaning until one of them orgasms, which is apparently the cue for a spike to fire under his chair and skewer him. Okay, is it just me, or are these fucking things getting worse and worse?
They go through 12 rounds of this, with our guy surviving all of them, and a new guy thrown in every time one of them dies. A woman in a wheel chair is rolled up, and starts masturbating with her prosthetic leg. Annnnnd congratulations! You’re going to hell for writing this fucking thing!
And I’m going to hell for watching it!
The Chinese woman in the corner spreads her legs, so our hero finally starts whackin’ it, even when it’s revealed that she has an eye in her vagina. You know, in most circles that’s considered unhealthy!
She tries to get the machine to kill the other guy for… some reason, but after kicking it too much, it ends up skewering her AND him!
And nothing of value was lost.
Annnnd welcome to round 13! It’s a lovely day for a match, the sun is shining, and two grown men have been strapped down and forced to watch a man fuck a little boy! Fortunately, the partner this time around happens to be identical to that Indonesian cult leader from V/H/S 2, so he’s naturally willing to wank to that!
So, and I’m just spit ballin’ here, but am I allowed to slit my own wrists, or do I have to find a professional first?
Fortunately, our creepy friend finally finishes, which means WE DON’T HAVE TO WATCH THAT ANY MORE! Oh, there ARE such things as miracles! Our hero falls asleep, and gets to wake up having sex with one of the Asian women as a prize! Or, at least, it’s a prize until he realizes he’s the current target of two masturbating captives. And it gets slightly worse when she starts hacking at him with a chainsaw, killing him.
She’s still having fun, though! And really, isn’t that what really matters?
(No. No, it is not.)
Apparently that one was “L is for Libido”, and we cut to… a woman flushing the toilet.
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WHAT IS IT WITH THIS MOVIE AND WHAT COMES OUT OF WOMEN’S ASSES?!
Her, in her horn-rimmed glasses and pointy high heels, verrrrrrry slowly struts to the kitchen, and then she veeerrrrrrrrrry sloooooowly wobbles to the garage, and finds the plunger. Oh, I swear, if you make me watch this woman perform plumbing, I will find some way to make you pay. Slowly. With a wrench.
Then, she finally gets back to the toilet, only it’s filled with blood. And we slowly zoom in to the red mess at the bottom…
And we get our title card…
“M is for Miscarriage”
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Oh, YOU CAN JUST FUCK RIGHT OFF.
THERE’S A SPECIAL LEVEL OF HELL FOR WHOEVER WROTE THIS.
Alright, we’re exactly halfway through, and we’ve had miscarriages, rape, pedophilia, murder, mutilation, poor story telling, violation of causality, references to Fox News, animal abuse, orifice violation, fart play, furries, kidnapping, poop jokes, awful slapstick, and desk balls.
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So, come back tomorrow! I’m going to make this review of The ABCs Of Death in to a two parter because I like you that much, and not because if I try to finish this in one sitting, I’m gonna gnaw through my own fucking tongue!
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Oh, tomorrow is going to hurt.
You: Smashed on the grill of my Warthog, screaming and firing a plasma rifle at me.
Me: Face contorted in grim malice, stuck with a plasma grenade, swinging at you with a golf club.
You had nice eyes.
