Friday, December 16, 2016

The Nutcracker


A happy scene. Many presents under the tree. Zoom in.

Music: Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite.

NARRATOR: (OS) Do you believe in magic?

Continue to zoom.

NARRATOR: (OS) Do you believe the Nutcracker can come to life?

Continue to zoom. On the Nutcracker.

NARRATOR: (OS) It doesn’t matter what you believe.

Zoom in close on the Nutcracker. Its jaws open.

Nutcracker Suit continues. Gets more and more manic ...

LITTLE GIRL: (OS) Daddy where’s my nutcracker? You said you were going to buy me a nutcracker!

Zoom. The Nutcracker's jaws open wider ...

DADDY: (OS) I did! I put him on your bed!

Wider ...

LITTLE GIRL: Well, he's not here, Daddy.

Wider ...

DADDY: (OS) That’s funny, he was right …

Screams. (OS)

LITTLE GIRL: Oh my God, Uncle Jack!

Continue zoom to impossible grainy closeness.

NARRATOR: (OS) It doesn’t matter where you hide. This holiday season, the Nutcracker's coming for you. 

Music reaches fever pitch ...

The Nutcracker's bloody jaws snap shut.

NARRATOR: And he isn't very sweet.

Fade to BLACK.

Friday, December 9, 2016

John Carpenter’s “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”

Hermey the Elf and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer enjoy a sleigh ride. Then holler in surprise and abruptly stop before a large, perfectly spherical crater in the ice. They peer down from the edge and see ...

Hermey: Look Rudolph! A flying saucer!

Rudolph: Wow, the door's busted open. Hey -- let’s look inside! 

Hermey: I dunno, Rudolph. Looks awful dark in there.

Rudolph's nose lights up.

Rudolph: I'll light the way!

One side of the crater has collapsed, forming a convenient ramp. They climb down and enter the saucer, which is canted at a slight angle. Sleigh won't fit, so they leave it behind.

A Rankin Bass-type swirly snow effect obscures our view.

An ice block slowly emerges from the wrecked saucer door. Gradually, we see the obscure form of a dead alien inside — like a fly in a practical joke ice cube. The ice block seems to magically move out of the door by itself. Once it's nearly free, Hermey and Rudolph emerge — we see they're behind the block, pushing it. The ice block finally tumbles out. Hermey and Rudolph strap the ice block to the sleigh. With red-faced effort, they pull the sleigh up the ramp and keep dragging the sleigh through the icy wasteland.

Hermey: Wait’ll Santa gets a load of this!

Swirly snow effect.

Santa stands expectantly, Mrs. Claus behind him. Rudolph and Hermey flank the workshop door. 

Santa: Ho-ho-ho. You don't need to surprise me, boys. That’s my job.

Hermey: Not this time, Santa. (nods to Rudolph)

Rudolph opens door to workshop ...

Rudolph: Surprise!

Santa confronts a twisted living pretzel made of bloody mutated reindeer bits all fused together.

Alien Reindeer Mutant Thing: Myelleeagghhrrggh!

The Reindeer Thing leaps at Santa.

Santa: Jesus!

Hermey lights it up with a flamethrower. It screams horrifically. Finally dies.

Santa: Hermey? 

Hermey: Uh ... yeah, Santa?

Santa: Where did you get that flamethrower?

Hermey: Oh, uh, back at the workshop.

Santa: Back at the workshop?

Hermey: Yeah. We're cranking 'em out like crazy this year, Santa. Kids love ‘em!

Santa looks at him disapprovingly

Hermey: Am I in trouble, Santa?

Santa: Ho-ho-ho! No, Hermey. We can always get more reindeer.

Rudolph looks pissed.

Santa: I’m sure everything’s all right, now. Right, Mrs. Claus?

Mrs. Claus smiles ... shudders. Her head splits open. Writhing tentacles emerge.

Showing seriously quick reflexes, Hermey roasts the Mrs. Claus Thing like a marshmallow. It screams hideously, takes a long time to die. Santa looks on in horror.

Rudolph: It's OK, Santa. You can always get another ...

Hermey in the background continues to incinerate the fragments of the Mrs. Claus Thing.

Santa: (to Rudolph) Shut up, you dimbulb ... Don't you get it?

Rudolph shrugs, looks puzzled.

Santa: I have no way of knowing who's ... naughty.

Hermey toasts some remaining drops of Mrs. Claus' blood on the ground. The blood sizzles and writhes.

Hermey: Maybe we do, Santa.

Elf: (OS) Hey, what's cooking?

Hermey, Santa and Rudolph turn to look …

At the various Elves who've all joined the party.

Swirly snow effect.

Hermey, holding his flamethrower, faces various Elves tied to chairs.

Santa: Ho! Ho! Ho! There's nothing to worry about, boys! 

Elf: Nothing to worry about? 

Santa: No. Rudolph’s just going to take some blood!

Elf: This is seriously …

Rudolph trots up, pricks one of the Elves. Its face immediately splits open. Tentacles and ichor pop out. The other Elves scream. Hermey raises flamethrower. It sputters, doesn't fire.

Santa: You gotta be f—

Swirly snow effect.


The Burl Ives Snowman rolls into frame, stops.

Burl Ives Snowman: Well, it was a Christmas to remember for Santa and his friends. But things turned out all right.

Unholy screams in the background.

Burl Ives Snowman: Really. Heh. Like I said, things turned out all right. 

More screams. Explosions. The Burl Ives Snowman rolls up to the camera. Extends his snowy hand.

Burl Ives Snowman: Turn that damn thing off!


Title: John Carpenter’s “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”

Coming soon to a theater near you.

Saturday, October 29, 2016

From Russia, with Hate


Vladimir Putin, shirtless on the floor, is doing stomach crunches.

Putin: 558 … 559 … 600.

He shouts triumphantly, leaps to his feet like Jackie Chan.

Putin: 600 crunches! Fuck you, American Psycho!

Aide: American Psycho?

Putin: You are not well read.

Feints punch. Aide flinches. Putin is disgusted.

Putin: Answer this question truthfully. Are you a faggot?

Aide: N-no sir.

Putin. “N-no sir.” Tell you what. Punch me in the stomach.

Aide: What?

Putin: Punch me in the stomach!

Aide: N-no sir.

Putin: Punch me in the fucking stomach!

The terrified aide punches him weakly.

Putin: Harder!

The aide punches him again.

Putin: Harder!

Outside the dacha, two security guards stand impassively while Putin’s grunts and shouts of “harder” emerge from the walls.

Putin: Enough! Turn on the TV.

Aide fumbles for the remote. Turns on ridiculously large flatscreen TV.

Hillary Clinton is speaking. Cyrillic subtitles.

Putin: (snorts) Look at her.

Aide: This woman?

Putin: So-called. This bitch wants to be American President.

Aide: I don’t follow American …

Putin: No. Why should you? I only pay you to fold towels and hand me water bottles.

Aide: I’m sorry, sir. I will begin research starting –

Putin: This soulless bitch thinks the White House is her birthright! White House … you know what this is?

Aide: American seat of …

Putin: Look at her! She calculates her every breath, this bitch. Do I want her to be American President?

Aide: Do you … I don’t know, sir. Do you … What is her ideology?

Putin: Fuck ideology. Go to Fox News! Show me the other guy …

Aide: Other guy?

Putin: Trump, you idiot! Trump! The one with orange face and bad hair!

Aide fumbles with TV controller. Goes through various channels. Finally gets to Fox News. Where Trump is speaking.

Aide: Is this the one?

Putin: Who else? Look at him!

Aide looks.

Putin: What do you see?

Aide: Orange-faced man with bad hair. As you say.

Putin: You see nothing. Look at him, really look! This man Trump is world-class at smashmouth football of American TV, yes?

Aide: Smashmouth?

Putin: American expression. Breaking of teeth. Violent contact sport. That is the meaning.

Aide: Ahh.

Putin: A talented man, in his limited way. But impulsive, hmm? A lousy chess player. Easily manipulated. So. Do I want this man Trump in the White House?

Aide: Of course not, sir!

Putin smiles. Walks up to the Aide, then snaps his neck. Aide drops like a sack of rocks. Putin walks up to a locker, pulls out a cell phone. Punches number.

Putin: Hello. Gufficer 2.0 I wish to speak to? (Beat) Yes. I will hold.