In a different life, we could have amicably coexisted at a horror convention, our rank odors swirling together until Robert Englund found us repulsively indistinguishable. Unfortunately for you, I got to this board game night first, and I’m not about to let some other fat guy in a matching Jason X hoodie steal my shine.
We are not fighting to be the final girl who outlives the rest of her disemboweled, dimwitted friends; rather, we must fight to see who is allowed to remain here, out of breath and derailing conversations like a Cenobite dragging unsuspecting party-goers into a neurodivergent hell of our creation.
Healthy, well-adjusted people do not need two subject matter experts on the Evil Dead universe, especially when considering I know more than you. If you want to party in this garage, you need to at least change your entire personality. I have a fedora in my car you should take for a spin. Go on—put it on, and turn your hoodie inside out while you’re at it. I think you’ll find your new life as a trumpeter in a mildly successful, regional ska band is more rewarding than it seems.
Seriously, man? Just put on the fucking hat. Do you know how discombobulating it is to look up and mistake a person for a mirror? I was merrily explaining how Braindead and Dead Alive are the same movie before you waltzed in and gave me a case of existential dread after realizing just how little depth I possess.
You don’t like ska? Well, I don’t like you. Here, have a pair of sunglasses and pretend you’re a Blues Brother.
I’m assuming both of our worldviews are derived entirely from episodes of The Twilight Zone. Everyone recalls The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street, which served as a scathing condemnation of McCarthyism. Unfortunately, there is a lesser-known episode entitled Mirror Image—which inspired Jordan Peele’s Us, as you’re surely aware— where a young woman realizes her doppelgänger is trying to replace her. You can’t cherry-pick life lessons, big dog. If you don’t fuck off, you’re just a hypocrite who stands for nothing.
You’re not leaving, are you? Turns out you were the real monster all along.
