This is how horror movies start (A choose your own ending blog post)

It was just like any other modern day girlfriend get-together. Two hot young(ish) girls with perky breasts (fine - post-partum breasts in miracle bras) stopping in a tattoo shop for a spontaneous evening of inking that had been planned for months. Giggling over boys (men) who drove them crazy in bed (fine, their husbands), confessing sins and gossiping with wide eager-to-share eyes, loudly, over the zap-zap-zapppp of the needles permanently branding their skin. Loud rock music was blaring, the kind that made you wish for legalization and healthcare reform all at once, stacks of colorful art books that inspired bravery via tattoos sat in every available space and a girl in the corner was leaning over a stool, getting her lower ass cheek tattoo'd while she sucked suggestively on a Tootsie Pop. 

Giddy from hours of the good kind of pain that left us (so much for two youngish girls, huh?) permanently tied and creatively marked, we hopped in our topless Jeep Wrangler (fine, a family Suburban) and hit the nighttime highway for a night of continued debauchery and sin (or sleep - god, it was exhausting all that tattooing), the windows rolled down and the air conditioning turned up, Kanye West asking 'how do you stay faithful in a room full of ho's?' (or was it Elton John referring to some Yellow Brick Road? I can't remember) as Summer roared past us on the windy mountain roads. 

Suddenly, brake lights.

Sirens.

Flashing lights of blue and red and yellow.

Stretchers.

Medics.

Carefully and calculatedly we manuevered our topless Jeep Wrangler (fine, family Suburban) in a decidedly dangerous three-point-turn manuever, just missing falling to our imminent deaths via the steep cliff off the moutainside (or we pulled into a driveway and turned around) to turn back around and find another route out of this one-way-out town. 

In the darkness, I could see her eyes and she could see mine. We knew we were fucked. I mean, THIS is how horror movies start. We both knew this. 

I blurted out, "I'm wearing a tanktop. Girls in horror movies ALWAYS wear tanktops. I'm fucked."

QoS, her eyes fixed on the dark windy road to nowhere ahead of us, replies back, "Yeah? Well I took that quiz on Facebook. The one that asks 'What order would you die in a horror movie?' and I WAS THE FIRST ONE! I'm fucked." 

"I don't have cell service up here. That's why I couldn't tweet more during our tattoos. Fucking T-Mobile!"

"My iPhone battery is dead BECAUSE I tweeted during our tattoos. Fuuccck."    

"All we need now on these back lane roads in the middle of buttfuck nowhere is a flat fucking tire and the next thing you know is we'll be wandering by foot into someone's creepy-ass dark ranch asking for help and..."

And? What happened next? 

Be creative, choose your own blog post ending and write it in the comments section. Winner will be chosen by Queen of Spain and I and receive a $25 Amazon.com gift card AND #suckit stickers from Erin. Enter as many times as you want - each comment = one entry. Contest runs through Tuesday, August 25, 2009 ending at 9:00 PM Pacific Time.

Comments

[Backpacking Dad]

...

"Shut up. Shh. Turn the radio down. No, don't stop driving, Jesus, you never, ever stop driving. Just turn the radio down...do you hear that?"

"Stop it. You're freaking me out now. My new tat may be a symbol of fearless agression toward the world and all who would fuck with me in it, but I don't like creepy noises."

"Listen. What's that squeaking sound? In all my years as a journalist I never, ever heard a sound like that. It's getting closer. How can it be getting closer when we're going 65? My new ink may be a symbol of endless, abiding love, loss, and memory, but it still doesn't change the fact that I don't actually want to see the afterlife at the moment."

The squeaking intensified, but nothing appeared out of the darkness. No terrible Squeaky Monster revealed itself. There was nothing except the squeaking, getting louder and louder even as the Suburban took corners at a speed an Andretti would be proud of.

Then began the thuds on the roof of the Suburban. The squeaking resolved into soft cries punctuated by the thuds. Suddenly the tires lost their grip on the road and the Suburban began sliding around. It careened across the road and over the edge of the cliff.

"Fuuuuuck."

"Fuuuuuck."

As it flipped down the hillside the headlights finally illuminated the cause of the thuds against the roof, and the occupants of the vehicle despaired.

"I fucking knew it! All those goddamned mommy-bloggers talking about how their lives suck and how they just wished that this would happen. Well, I hope they're happy now, because we've just been murdered by their wish."

"I...I can't believe it."

"Believe it. We're dying in a shower of puppies and kittens."

"Fuck."

[Erin]

I'm throwing in #suckit stickers for the winner too

[Erin]

and Backpacking Dad just cracked me up.

And those girls at the tat shop were all hot and ...young.

[VDog]

Then it turned into Harold & Kumar only it was Megan & Erin and you were greeted by a couple of swingin' crackers who fixed the flat tire and offered you beers....

But you decided to hightail it out of there after having seen whips and handcuffs displayed on the wall of their double wide trailer.

Then down the road, Neil Patrick Harris comes out of the mist, high on mushrooms, and scares the shit out of you both. But then you're like, ZOMG!! NPH!! and you pick him up and try to find your way to Pinky's because you could use a hot dog REEEEEAL BAD.

NPH is all cracked out in the back seat while Megan & Erin are all like ZOMG WTF??? And magically out of nowhere Pinky's appears and there's the woman from Legally Blonde & American Pie -- You know, Stifler's mom.

She's owning a big dog like it's the juiciest piece of meat she's ever had down her throat.

NPH is all, "GET ME A WEINER, LIKE, NAO DUDES!!!" and he gets jumped by all the fey fans there.

Megan & Erin get their hot dogs and get back in the Suburban. Destination? Unkown. Ruby ruby ruby ruby so-ho.

Only there's no SoHo in LA so they just decide to head to Megan's place since it's closer to the beach.

The freshly tattoed ladies make it to Megan's house where they toke a huge bongload and pass out together in Megan's bed.

Oh, what a night.

[Claudia W]

the tire blows right there, just as the she spoke that last word. "Okay now we ARE fucked."
"Okay, lets sit here a minute (or second) and get our thoughts together, so we can make a good game plan"
"Game plan? Hell, now we are going to be game, to some crack head, back woods farmer out here. This sucks great big donkey balls."
"You ever change a tire?"
"No...You?"
"Fuuuck!"
So the two newly tattooed hotties (okay, really good looking married women)get out of the Jeep Wrangler and try and figure out how to change that blown tire.
While standing by the tire and saying that one eff word over and over as if it were a chant, a rumbling kind of sound starts. Faintly at first, but growing ever closer.
Then the headlights appear.
"Oh crap, we're toast."
From around the curve comes a truck. A truck that can't be defined by it's make or model or even color in this dark. It pulls up alongside the handicapped Jeep.
"Hey ladies, little trouble there? You know this isn't a good place to be hanging out with a flat tire. Heh heh", the tall man says as he gets out of his truck.
One of the women mumbles something like, "I think I just peed myself." to the other.
The tall man from the truck walks around to the side of the Jeep. The women can't see his face clearly. They can only see that if he wanted he could do some damage. He's looking at the flat and quietly chucking to himself. The tall stranger walks to the drivers side of his truck and reaches behind the seat. He pulls out a long cylindrical looking object. Then he goes to the back of the Jeep and opens the hatch, digs around in the back while the women are silently saying prayers that they will survive this. He pulls out the jack and the spare. He turns on the flashlight that he got from his truck and changes the flat for them.
As they are happily driving back down the hillside, they notice a beam of light coming from a building. As they get closer, they notice it's a Starbuck's and pull up in the parking lot. They get out and go inside to order their favorite hot Starbuck's drink and sit by the fireside to reflect on all they have just lived through.

[Jeremy Pepper]

Erin notices this disheveled man scampering though the woods.

"Isn't that Ryan Jenkins?," says UD (a secret watcher of bad reality TV and TMZ junkie).

"I knew this was all going to haunt me, when the last text message sent from that girl's phone was 'Suck It' and then she ends up dead," replied QOS.

Who knew that the boat and car in Canada was just a smoke screen and he came to hide out in Ojai?!

But, QOS, with her Wu-Tang tiger style ninja skillz, beat the crap out of him, they both collected the big reward, and the kids got $50 T-shirts.

The End

[Jennifer]

…we’ll be toast.”

“LOOKOUT!”

A deer had come from the brush and was standing in the middle of the road. The Jeep (or was it a Suburban?) took a sharp curve to the right, headed directly for the cliff. Eyes closed and arms up in protective mode- trying their best to shield their heads- the hot moms screamed out as they careened over the side of the cliff.

CRACK!
BAM!
WHOOSH-SWISH!
BLOW!
CRAAAAAASH!

They landed 10 feet away from a secluded log cabin. There was a sizzling coming from the car. OMG! Was the car gonna blow?

“Hey! You ok?!”
“I’m ok. You?”
“Yeah, but we have to get out of here, NOW!”

The fumbled and wrestled themselves free of seatbelts and debris that had come in through the windshield and managed to get out of the car.

There was a light flickering from the window of the cabin.

“Great. This is it. This is how we meet our death. You know what’s in that cabin? Some messed up inbred who eats hot moms for dinner!”

“Shit! Wait. There was a jack and some other stuff in the trunk, let’s see if we can find it.”

UD and QoS search the surrounding area for anything they can use as weapons against the monster waiting to tear apart their flesh.

“Here’s an ax! Why did you have an ax in your trunk?”

“Uuuhh, it’s not mine. Shit! We’re dead!”

“We have the ax silly! Let’s see what else we can find. We won’t go down without a fight!”

“Hey! Here’s the snow shovel I bought for winter.”

“Great. Okay. Let’s sneak up, find this SOB and get him, then maybe he has a phone and we can call for help.”

The hot moms tip-toe up to the porch and peek in the window. There isn’t anyone there. QoS grabs the doorknob and turns slowly, inching the door open. UD spots a phone on the wall between the tiny living room and kitchen. But before they get to it they hear a gurgling sound coming from the other room.

Gurrrrrrgle-cckkkggg.

The girls look at each other. They know what they have to do. They creep through the doorway, armed and ready. It’s dark and they can’t see well. UD catches the hump-backed shadow from the corner of her eye and swings.

CRACK!

QoS raises the ax and…

CHOP!

The girls hightail it to the living room and start searching for anything that will give them a clue to their location so they can call for help.

QoS says, “Oh shit. Oh SHIT! FUCKFUCKFUCK!”

“What? What is it?”

“I think we just killed an innocent man. An old innocent man.”

“What?”

QoS points to a photo sitting on the ledge next to a stack of mail. In it is an old man and woman, on the front porch of the cabin. UD picks up the lantern from the table and looks around. Pictures of children and adults who vaguely resemble the elderly couple in the photo adorn the walls.

“Fuck.”

[David K]

(Part 1)
...asking for help and... BAM! Wop-wop-wop-wop-wop. "Fuck! A blow-out!" "Well, at least there's a farm-house down the road (fine, the street was lined with beach cottages). Just go and ask someone to use their phone. You go, and I'll stay with the Jeep (Suburban/Explorer/whatever)." "No, you go." "No, you go." "No, you go."

We both went. We trudged for miles down an unpaved road. (Ok, that BS is funny when Megan does it. Not for me.) Erin and Megan crossed a neatly kept lawn and knocked on the front door of a freshly painted beach house. "Look! It's the Travel Gnome! Aww."

A 79-year-old man answered the door. "What can I do for you young ladies?"

"Our Suburban got a flat tire. Can we use your phone to call the Auto Club?"

"WHAT?"

"WE GOT A FLAT TIRE..."

"Fat Tire? Yeah, I got beer. It's in the basement, next to the phone." And he turned as if to invite them in.

Megan and Erin turned to each other, simultaneously exclaiming, "Beer?!" And they followed the geezer down to his basement.

Like deafening rap music, bright light was blasting from the room at the bottom of the stairs. Erin and Megan squinted, but their eyes couldn't adjust to the blinding light. The old coot led them into the room, where he hit them both in the head with his cane, knocking them unconscious.

Megan came to first and groggily scanned her surroundings. "Erin!" (Slaps Erin.) "Erin!" (Erin began to wake up.) "Where in the hell are we?" "It looks like some kind of old, dried out well or something." (Both scream) "FUUUCK!"

"AAAH! AAAH! AAAH! Go ahead and scream--no one's gonna heeear youuu" yelled the old man. "You girls gotta lose a little weight to loosen up the skin. It's gonna take about two weeks."

Days pass. So does a LOT of bickering and recrimination. Megan and Erin lose track of time. Finally the geezer returns to the well.

"STFU! You two are driving me crazy with all this bickering! I'm going to have to let one of you go just to break it up."

(Simultaneously) "Me! No, me! No, me! Me!"

[David K]

(Part 2)
"Quiet! I'm gonna let you both go, but one at a time. The first one's gonna start walking. When she gets far enough down the road, I'll come back and release the other one. You, the one with the thing on her neck, I'm tossing down a rope ladder. Grab it and climb out."

"Awright!" "Suckit!"

Megan grabbed the rope, but having been starved for two weeks, she barely had the strength to climb. Slowly, laboriously, she pulled herself up the ladder. Erin, mouth agape, followed her with her eyes. The geezer finished extracting Megan when she reached the top. She collapsed there in a heap as the old man snatched the rope ladder out of the well.

"Megan! Megan?"

Megan was strangely silent.

"I'll come back for you in a bit." And the geezer left Erin alone. "Fuck."

A couple hours passed, or four or five, maybe. How would Erin know? She was alone in a hole in the ground, and hungry, and deliriously thinking about a nice, big kielbasa. The geezer returned.

"Ok, Slim, you're next." (Note--See? I'm doing my best to make up for the weight thing earlier.) As he did before, he tossed down a rope ladder, this time for Erin. "C'mon out."

Erin grabbed the ladder and tried to climb. Her muscles were weak, but a voice in her head said, "Pull, woman. Pull!" And then she told it, "Suckit." After an agonizing eternity of pulling hand over hand, pushing step after step, Erin felt the old man grab her by the wrist and lift her from the well. She wanted to collapse, but the old man barked, "Let's GO!" and pushed her ahead of him, out of the room, up the stairs, faster than she wanted to go.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Erin tried to gather her thoughts, which ran to food, freedom, and Megan. Across the room was the front door and freedom, in the corner, dressed and splayed out like a hunter's trophy, was Megan. Cold steel caressed Erin's neck, warmth and wetness spilled down her shirt.

So anyway, I was at Venice beach last weekend and scored a couple of lamps from a street vendor. Fifteen bucks apiece, he wanted, or two for twenty-five. I gave the geezer a twenty and took them both. They look good on the nightstands in the bedroom. The bases are rather plain, in fact, they could have come from Pottery Barn. The lampshades, though, are quite intriguing. I don't know exactly what they're made of, but the designs on them are almost tribal--I'm not sure what the first one is, it could be like a nautilus or something, and the other one has a design with three hearts.

It's funny, but when I turn out the lights at night, just before I fall asleep, I'd swear those two lamps talk to each other. No, no, it's not a conversation or anything like that, just a couple of weird obscenities--"Fuck." "Suckit."

[pamela]

yeaaaah im not even going to attempt an ending LOL

your (and @QOS's) tattoos look awesome!

[lisakandi]

Look out!!! Turn the fucking wheel! (screams…Suburban hits something big…almost enough to stop the behemoth vehicle…series of thuds)
QOS says KEEP DRIVING!
UD says I think we ran over something or someone!
“We can’t just keep driving if it was….SOMEONE, we’re mommy bloggers (among other things) and how would that look to our followers? They might think we’re REALLY mean. QOS-who’s gonna know?! Wonder if we DID run over some backwoods freak right now, I ‘m not getting stabbed to death, besides I’ve had enough pain (albeit good pain) today with those fucking needles at the House of Pain tat shop!”
UD fumbles for flask in the storage compartment, takes a swig and says “I’m turning around.”
“The fuck you are! No you’re not! Keep driving! I am not going back there, I am sure there are some signs ahead that will lead us the hell out of here, IF YOU WOULD JUST KEEP DRIVING!” UD slams on the brakes as they screech to a dead stop. The radio blares Nancy Sinatra These Boots are Made For Walkin’, silence outside the car except for the sound of the engine idling. UD puts the car in park and stares into the darkness. She looks over at QoS.
“I will slap that fresh new tat if you turn this Suburban around!”
“Let’s just get out and see if there is any blood on the car.” “If there’s not, I promise you, I’ll keep driving.”
“Dammit UD! If there’s not, we’ll get back in the car and go home, right?
“Yup.”
The girls get out of the car and tentatively survey the vehicle. A dark purplish, sticky substance is splattered on the hood and both sides of the Suburban.
“It looks like blood! What is it? Touch it.”
“No, you touch it.”
“I think it’s blood. Oh nooooooooooooo, I think we’ve killed someone.”

“WE, you were the one driving!”
“Whatever! We have to go back! Get in the car.”
UD and QoS get back into the car throw the car in reverse and turn around headed for, what, they did not know. They both begin to sob uncontrollably and QoS pulls out the flask downs ½ of it and hands it to UD. UD finishes it off pulls out a wipe from the center console that she keeps for the kids when their hands are all sticky after eating Honey Nut Cheerios and wipes her face and neck. She offers one to QoS, she pushes them away, she prefers unscented for sensitive skin. They drive on in silence.
“Hello?” “Hello?”
Startled by the voice coming from inside the car, the girls look at the dash to see that the Onstar light is blinking.
Terrified, relieved, frantically the girls respond.
“Hello, ONSTAR operator, we’ve been in an accident and we don’t know where we are!” “Help us!!!”
Silence.
“Are you there, are you there, help us!”
“I saw what you did” said a voice from the speaker in the dash.
“What?”
“….I saw what you did.”
“What the fuck…who is this?”
“I saw what you did this summer night.”
“QoS, this is NOT the ONSTAR operator”
“Ya think!” “What the fuck are we going to do now?!”
(screams)
QoS picks up the SIGG water bottle (swiss made-no bad plastic for the kids) and bashes in the dash where the Onstar light mockingly blinks at them. The light stops blinking and there is no more sound.
UD speeds up the Suburban sailing down the mountain road as fast as it will go.
“I’m not going to stop.” “Even if there is something or someone there, I’m gonna just keep going as fast as I fuckin’ can.”
“Don’t stop, it’ll be alright, just keep going, this didn’t happen, noone saw us, just keep going.”
ATV with a man is sitting in the road.
(screams, squealing brakes)
The Suburban spins out and stops at the side of the road in the dirt, dust flies everywhere, the girls are thrown forward, the airbags deploy and sock them in the face.
There is a knock at UD’s window. A little man with a cowboy hat is knocking at the window asking if the girls are alright.
After a few seconds the girls are startled to see that there is a man at the window.
“Are you ladies OK?”
“We’re OK, we think”
“Why were you driving so fast senoritas?” “You could kill someone”
The girls looked over to the middle of the road and saw a giant puddle of the same viscous, dark, purplish substance that they had seen on the Suburban.
The man said “I am sorry to have startled you but some asshole in a Suburban crashed into my vat of grapes earlier and I am trying to get it cleaned up”
“Your what of what?”
“My vat of grapes. I was on my way back to the winery pulling the grapes on my ATV when my headlight went out, it is very dark out here and I don’t think anyone could see me.” “The neighbor’s cow was with me, it got out and I was leading it back to the barn. Poor SOB got killed by the Suburban.” “I had to haul him off the road and back to the neighbor, Freddy. Mr. Krueger was not very happy and he is not the forgiving type. I feel sorry for whoever did this to his cow, Jason. He loved that cow.” “Anyway, can I call someone for you ladies, I have a satellite phone with me.
“Uh, no thanks and thank you for checking on us we have to be on our way, gotta go, bye!”
And quickly into the Suburban the girls went. UD started up the car and jammed it into Drive! They didn’t say a word the whole way home.
Days later at soccer practice while UD was tweeting with QoS she got a call and at that same moment QoS got a call…. The voice on the other end said….”I know what you did and I’m coming to get you in your dreams!”

[Jennifer]

So, not to vote against myself, because I think I'm kinda awesome, but I'm also feeling the lamp shades of skin story... Oh Silence of the Lambs- my fave.

[Dadcation]

UD and QS continued barreling into the darkness when they saw the sparkle of gold teeth on the shoulder of the road. He was holding a 40oz draped in a paper bag. Two seemingly full bottles sat on the pavement next to his Air Jordans.

UD pulled over.

QS: What the Hell are you doing?
UD: Getting directions.

Hitchhiker: Whassup, la-das?

UD: Can you give us directions?

Hitcher: I'm yo man.

UD: Wait...are you...Tupac?

Hitcher: Pipe down, bitch! Don't be blowing my cover up in here. Gimme a ride, will ya?

QS: NO!
UD: Sure!

UD: So, can I have a pull off that 40?

Tupac: Fo shizzle! *hands her an unopened bottle*

*********
Voice: WELCOME TO DEATH ROW!
UD: WTF?

Tupac: You mean you don't remember?
Snoop: Murder was the case that they gave you.

QS: Snoop and Tupac? What the...?

Tupac: All right, it breaks down like this, see: you bitches said you wanted to go with me to a west coast party, despite my stern admonition against such for a couple green assed crackers like y'all, seeing as how them parties don't quit, but your ass kept saying "I'm a good time" or some such shit, so we went. And it was all good...shit was bumping like city of Compton until someone insulted the bloody lower-case roman numerals on your back and you got all bothered, and I kept telling yo dumb ass, "Don't be frontin' on these peeps, bitch!" But, front you did. Next thing you know, out comes a Glock, and out comes your boot, and he's bent over moanin' 'bout his family jewels or something, you and QS jump in your Jeep, and back out, barreling over a couple kids who'd just walked up to try and get an autograph. I started yelling for you to "Stop the fucking car, bitch!" But you pounded another Red Bull and tore off. All I caught was the word "UNDMSTC"on your tag, so when the fuzz came and tried to haul my ass in, I had to narc you out. I figured I'd get to go, but now my ass is in here, too, for faking my death and skipping out on probation and a couple debts to a couple municipalities.

QS: I'm never going anywhere with you ever again.
UD: Step off, bitch!

*Cat fight ensues. Tupac and Snoop step back and pray for ripped clothing. Ripped clothing they got.*

QS (stops clawing at UD): Damn, girl, them's a fine set of titties.
UD: Damn, girl, that's a fine ass you got!

*UD and QS begin furiously making out--kissing, groping, getting nasty in prison*

Warden: Don't you ladies want your phonecall?
UD / QS: Hell no! Our men will try to get us back on their team if we leave this place. We're staying!

Snoop/Tupac: Damn right it's a good day.

*the end*

[Lisa]

hahahahahahahahahahahahaha the muskrat...tooo funnny!lmao.

[Claudia W]

Would it be fair taht I just comment and not do an ending? Did I just void my entry from before? I hope not. There's a book on Amazon I have been looking at!
All the endings have been great. Good luck everyone!

[Muskrat]

Okay, it's midnight. Time for my prize, right, bitches? Are y'all even done making out yet?

[Cheap Air Jordans]

What a great blog! It's a pity that i can't find your rrs address. If you can offer rrs subscription service, i can track your blog easier!