Rob Smith peeked around the corner. Good, the coast was clear. He ran down the hall, spine tingling as if it expected to be hit with... Rob didn't want to think about what.
Ever since those two morons stopped trying to drive each other batty and fixated on him as the cause of all their little irritations, Rob's life had been a living hell. It had seemed like a neat idea at the time. Introducing KDAmery and CWBorysowich had certainly gotten them out of his hair for a while. But that time was most definitely over.
Now he was trapped in a house that seemed to go on forever being chased by the weirdest things the Markham Madmen could think of. Sweat still rolled from his armpits after escaping the Superstitious Killer Mosquitos in some gargantuan dining room.
A noise! Quickly Rob ran to a door and rushed into... a sound studio. In the midst of it was a heavy metal band, one so blatantly bestial, even KDAmery hadn't gotten around to listening to them. The masked faces turned towards him, and Rob Smith stood in the mercy of... Gwar!
The Satanic ritualists looked him up and down. They seemed to smirk at his outlandishly plain dressing style. The lead singer dropped an axe on the neck of a muskrat and the band proceeded to envelop Rob's presence. Putting their arms around him, they hauled him over to an antique water wheel, and proceeded to lash his ankles and wrists to the spokes. Upon releasing the water, the wheel began to spin around. Then, as a prelude to the ritual sacrifice, they began to tune up.
Rob screamed.
The vocalist listened, then copied the scream exactly. He brought the microphone up to Rob's lips just as the guitarist experimented with a few scales. This time, the scream was recorded for sampling purposes; Gwar had been taking a few lessons from Skinny Puppy.
But the vocalist stopped. Thinking for a very brief second, he wondered. 'Why use the sampler if they've got the real thing?' A sadistic grin crossed his face but before it reached the other side, the vocalist ate it.
Rob paused between screams to look puzzled.
Suddenly, the amps were silent. The band looked about in rage for the reason. There, in the production booth, was the answer.
KDAmery grabbed the mic and said, "Guys, I know you're having fun, but we're going to have cut in."
Gwar released a cacophony of growls.
"Because if you kill him now it'll be over too soon," said CWBorysowich. "We haven't even filled half a videotape yet."
The vocalist rasped into his mic, "We don't want to kill him, we just want to torture him for a while."
"I know, guys," said KDAmery. "But you know how it goes. First a little torture, then some heavy mutilation, next thing you know, it's Zip Lock time. Sorry dudes. We'll get him back to you for your next tour, honest."
"Can we just get one more sample?"
CWBorysowich looked over at KDAmery with a grin and said, "Sure."
Then the drummer jumped up from behind a kettle drum, yanked out what looked like a gun and fired a flare right into Rob's chest. Rob's face contorted into writhing expressions of pain as the screams were recorded by a smiling band.
Cut loose, Rob took off, still trying to put out the flames on his clothes.
KDAmery picked up the Handi-Cam. "C'mon, we don't want to miss this. He's headed towards Muffy."
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