Cabin Fever Page #2

It was in Brighton, right?

That's probably why it was|called Brighton Bowl.

We used to go there|for birthday parties

or with my dad|for the weekend.

This one time, I asked|my dad if we could go.

He's like, "No.|The bowling alley's closed."

This marshmallow's so burnt!

It turned out there had|been a break-in.

All the employees|were held at gunpoint.

After they had been|gagged and beaten,

they were tied to chairs.

The chairs...|they were set in a circle,

so that way everybody|was forced to watch

everybody else.

And then the robber,

this sick maniac,

he goes and finds one of those|little ball-peen hammers.

And then one by one...

he smashed the backs|of their heads open with the hammer.

Everyone had to watch|their friends die,

knowing that they'd|soon be next.

Ball-peen...

The guy doesn't stop there.

He breaks out the fire axe.

The alarm goes off...|he doesn't give a sh*t.

He hacked off|all of their limbs.

The cops found six|bloody torsos

tied to the bowling seats.

Blood everywhere...

Turns out the guy was|some disgruntled employee.

That was|my childhood playground.

Bert, you a**hole,|it's not funny.

Yes it is,|you f***ing slut.

Jeff?

What?

Tell them about|the happy bald guy.

- No, I can't take it.|- He gave us our shoes

and quarters for|the video games.

There was a room with|a pool table,

but my dad wouldn't|let us go there.

The bald guy was always happy,|always smiling.

But the killer|got him too.

When the cops searched|the place,

they found hacked off limbs|at the end of the bowling lanes.

The guy had bowled|people's organs.

Arms, legs, everything.

They found the bald guy's head|in the ball return.

- He was still smiling.|- Oh, no.

I knew you were full of sh*t!|You suck!

No! It was in the paper.|I swear!

I'm laughing because

Jeff is an a**hole|and he's making me laugh.

I swear...

I loved this place.|I still remember the sounds...

the cracking,|the bouncing.

The smell of the shoes,|the sound of the Q-Bert machine...

Holy sh*t!|What are you doing?!

- I'm cool.|- Are you spying on us?

- I'm cool.|- Is your dog friendly?

Yeah, he's cool.

This is Dr. Mambo.|Here, boy.

Come on, Dr. Mambo.

Is it "Dr." like a physician|or a professor?

Yeah, he's a professor...

of being a dog.|Oof! Faced!

Scratch-moded.

It's a positive bonfire.

Got room for one more?

Actually, we were having a private|conversation, if you don't mind.

That's cool.

I guess I'll smoke|all this weed by myself.

All:
No, no.|It's fine.

It's not that private.

Awesome.

Yeah, sit right here.

Bert:
I think he's gonna|f*** her.

Guy:
Awesome.

- Wait, so your name was...|- Justin...

- but you can call me "Grim."|- Grim.

Like Grimace?

"Grim" is my skating name.

I got it in Berkeley while|competing in the X-Games.

Really? Karen's going|to go to Berkeley.

Dude...

awesome.

I love Berkeley.|People there are so wacked.

I met these guys and they had me|f***ed up for five days straight.

They wouldn't let me drink|anything but beer.

Yeah, I've done that,|except I did it with JD.

Karen's got a great idea.

We should only drink beer|for the rest of the trip.

I could probably do that,|but I doubt you could.

I'll bet you. I can only drink|beer the rest of the trip.

If I drink anything else,|you can have the rest of my supply.

All right, you're on.|We only drink beer.

Bert:
You're on.

So, you're a skater?|Is that your occupation?

Oh, crap.

Party's over.

Hey Justin...|Grim...

you want to come inside?

I'd love to, but I left|all this sh*t outside my tent.

It's starting to rain,|if it gets f***ed up,

it's like $4,000 worth|of sh*t pissed away.

How far away is your tent?

- Cool. Bring the weed.|- I will.

Check you dudes later.|Come on, Dr. Mambo.

- Jeff:
Freak.|- Karen: I thought he was funny.

Bert:
|How did it work?

What do you mean "how"?|It had a hose...

a bunch of different settings,

pulse, power...

stream.

And you came every time?

Totally.

You can imagine my disappointment|the first time I had sex.

Tell me about it.

What's that supposed|to mean?

- I've got a better story.|- Paul: I'm sorry,

but no story is better|than Karen and the shower massage.

No, seriously.

One time I was masturbating...

and my dog came up|and started licking my balls.

Right as I came it stuck|its tongue up my ass.

That's serious f***ing|masturbation talent right there.

F***ing good.

He'd better have brought more weed|or I won't let him in.

Relax, pal.|I'm coming.

His name's Grim.

Jesus Christ.

Help me...|please.

I need a doctor.

Oh sh*t.

Man:
Doctor.

Yeah, all right.

Somebody grab a blanket|or something.

You...

you shot me.

No, no, no.

There's no way this contagious|f***er's coming in here.

- He's sick, for Christ's sake.|- You want him to come in here

and touch all of your sh*t,|your f***ing soap...?

Let's throw him|a blanket or something.

- Or your douche?|- Let's drive him to a doctor.

He's not coming in!

We're out of range.|I'm not getting anything.

- F***!

- What's that?|- He's in the car.

What?

- Jeff:
Motherf***er.

- Karen:
Why's he f***ing with us?|- Grab your gun.

F***!

Hurry up!|He's in the car already!

Get out of the f***ing car!

Get out of there.|Get out of the car!

Get out!|Get out of the f***ing car!

F***!

Get the f*** out!|Get out of there!

- F***er!

- You shot the car!

What was I supposed to do?

Oh my God!

F***!

Paul:
Sh*t!

Sh*t!

Oh!

- Get him!|- He's coming towards us.

Stop or I'll f***ing|stab you!

Stop! Stop!

Back off.

F*** off!|Leave us alone!

F*** off!

I know. I know.

What else were we gonna do?

First he gets his sh*t|all over the car,

and I don't want him|touching me, you, or anybody.

I think the rain will|put him out.

He's dead anyway.|You saw that sh*t on him.

He looked like he was|skinned alive.

We have to tell the police|it wasn't our fault.

I think we should tell them now.

Calm down.

There's nothing we can do.|The car's f***ed.

We need a mechanic. We'll find|somebody who knows one,

and then we'll report|the accident.

That's the keyword here.|It was an accident.

Paul:
The guy's skin...

holy sh*t.

You should clean up some|of this sh*t while we're gone.

I'll save some for you guys.

- Just stick with the girls.|- What's that supposed to mean?

It means you're|a f***ing p*ssy.

That's f***ed up.

What's f***ed up is you beating|the sh*t out of my truck.

What about the jag-off|with the rifle?

Did you forget about him?

We all f***ed up that car,|don't just put it on me.

Good morning, boys.

Are you going|to kill each other now?

Where are you going?

To get help.

So...|Bert and Jeff are gone.

I know.

Last night was|a f***ed up situation,

- and I think...|- That guy asked for our help.

We lit him on fire.

Can you understand if I'm not|in a particularly social mood?

I got scared.

I was...

I was just trying to help.

Karen...

I'm sorry, Paul.

Every time I close my eyes|I see him.

It was an accident.

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