ND10's Entry into the Writing Competition
Sept 15, 2015 15:45:13 GMT
Nova Prime X and DSkillz like this
Post by ND10 on Sept 15, 2015 15:45:13 GMT
The day Friday the 13th came to Nowhere
(Jason Voorhees vs Courage the Cowardly Dog)
Within the depths of Camp Crystal Lake, New Jersey, a terrible burden had been placed upon all foolish enough to visit the campgrounds. This burden had a name and it was Jason Voorhees. Ever since he appeared back on the scene after seeing his mother's decapitation by Alice Hardy, Jason's slew anyone unfortunate enough to be having a good time within the boundaries of the lake and even beyond it at certain points. But at the end of the day for all of Jason's strength and his seeming immortality, he's been defeated every time. From getting a machete stuck through the shoulder, an axe to the forehead, getting mutilated with his own machete and so much more.
Despite all of the punishment inflicted upon him, the legend of Jason Voorhees grows with every new victim. But even then there are still people who wish to exploit the camp for their own purposes. Either considering the story of Jason to be a series of murders blown way out of proportion by the media or that Jason's been dead all this time and someone's just kept up the kills in his name. Either way, it helped give Camp Crystal Lake a infamous reputation. But there was still a niche that appealed to everyone right? Serial Killer memorabilia had to be one of said niches! Which is why two brothers, one of whom was named Sean and the other Wes were exploring the woods of Crystal Lake, armed with only pistols and flashlights.
"You sure this is a good idea, Wes? I left the car running so not too late to turn back." Sean started only for Wes to continue to trudge forward as if he hadn't even stopped to consider what his brother had told him. Holding up one of his hands to the sky, Wes sighed. "You just gotta grasp the bigger picture here, Sean! This hockey mask wearing menace has been plaguing camp goers and skinny dippers for over thirty five years! Taking into account how many people's he killed and you can ask all over the country who Jason Voorhees is and I bet you'll get an answer! Not one you may like but still the point is Sean, that nobody escapes death. Not even Jason Voorhees. So all we're gonna be doing is finding this cabin of his and getting out because Jason's dead and he sure as hell isn't going to get up just because some young entrepreneurs wanted to carve out a spot in the dog eat dog world of shilling merchandise." Sean still didn't seem fully convinced but he supposed his older brother had a point. There was no way that Jason actually was some kind of undead serial killer, right? It had to be some guy pretending to be Jason!
"Aha, found the treasure chest of slasher merchandise! C'mon Sean, I can't look through this place by myself!" Wes called over to his brother as they had finally stumbled upon the cabin that Jason had constructed for himself while hiding out in the woods for who knows how long. Feeding on the local wildlife to sustain himself and Sean had to admit that for someone who was apparently mentally-disabled, the place was cobbled together sure. But for him alone to be able to construct this seems like it'd have taken a lot of work. But Sean was shaken out of his silent admiration for the shack as Wes yelled to him from a fair distance away.
"Hey Sean, take out your phone and take a picture of me walking past Jason's shack! We can frame it and put it out on display! Man walks aside Jason's Shack and survives! We'll be big and the headlines will be all about us!" Sean wasn't one to argue with Wes over things since Wes usually did the thinking for both of them but something just didn't feel right about this. This almost felt shameful in a way. To be disgracing the terror Jason's victims went through when they saw this place before he murdered them. "Sean! I'm not going to ask again! Take the picture already so we can go inside!" Stumbling with his phone, Sean dropped it on the ground and sighing, he knelt down to pick it up only to pause as he noticed a peculiar reflection on the screen of his phone. It seemed like it was quite a distance away but there seemed to be some kind of mess of debris and one of the diamonds on Jason's mask could have been seen poking out through it. But that couldn't be right could it?
"SEAN! What is taking you so long?! I could have walked to Manhattan with all the time you're chewing up!" Wes roared as Sean gulped and quickly prepared his phone's camera. He guessed he'd just have to tell Wes once they were inside. That was all and Wes could prove that his eyes were just deceiving him. But first he had to take the photo that his brother had been requesting for the last few minutes.
*click*
Smirking as the picture was taken, Wes quickly ran over to see how it had looked. If his brother had done a good enough job than this could totally be the flagship of their store! Jason's Shack right front and center mounted on the wall as people walk in.
"Yeah, yeah! I can totally get behind this picture, Sean! The fact that you managed to catch the trees in the frame helps to emphasize just how much of a wildman Jason was! He didn't care one bit about nature getting it's dirty paws all over his shack. Then you got me walking by with my head slightly tilted to the side to show that 'whoa, this is actually where the infamous Crystal Lake Killer once called home' This is gonna be everyone's reaction once they see this picture atop our wall! Now, let's get inside Sean. So much more to explore!"
Sean couldn't really say that he was too eager to continue. Not after the sight he thought he had seen in the reflection on his phone. But Wes seemed dead-set on going and Sean doubted he'd be swayed just by what his little brother thinks he saw laying under a bunch of dirt and leaves. So following Wes in as they closed the door behind them, Sean quickly cupped a hand to his nose. "Eugh! What the hell's that smell?!" It smelled like something that was long since dead. Wes didn't seemed deterred by the rancid scent one bit and continued further within the confines of the shack. Until he finally reached the source of the smell. With a ring of bodies laying around her a shrine had been made to Jason's mother, Pamela Voorhees. With her head sitting atop her blue sweater.
Barely being able to prevent himself from retching all over the damn place, Sean made his way into the backroom and nearly leaped back as he saw his older brother reach for the head. Rushing forward, he sought to grasp Wes's hand. "Wes, what the hell do you think you're doing? That's Jason's mom right there! You can't take her head!"
Annoyed by his brother's pesky interference, Wes sought to shove Sean aside and smacked Pamela's head off the table. Only so he could grab her sweater it seemed. Tossing it over his shoulder, Wes angrily turned towards Sean and pointed a finger in his direction. "I don't know where you think you can get off telling me what to do, Sean. But that stops right now. I'm the older brother and that usually denotes that I'm the one telling you what's what. I don't want the head. I want the sweater because do you know how many sickos would want to try on Pamela Voorhees's blood-stained sweater? They'd be lining up by the dozen! Now, quit your bellyaching and get up. We need to keep looking."
As Pamela's head rolled along the floor after being swatted aside, outside within the woods a muted thumping could have been heard. This was the sound the black heart within Jason Voorhees's chest made as his mother's words rang out to him, even after her death and while he had laid dormant in the woods for years and mother nature had began to take a toll on him. Still, his dear mommy's voice was clear as it had always been.
"Jason, my special special boy! Do you know what your gift is? No matter what they do to you, you cannot die. You can never die! You've just been sleeping honey! But now the time has come to wake up! Mommy has something she wants you to do. The children have been very bad. Hear my voice, Jason and live again!"
The words cascaded across the depths of Jason's mind like a demented cacophony. The forest was like a crypt with how deathly quiet it was. Not even the occasional chirping of a bird cut through the silence. The comparison of the forest to a crypt might have been more accurate than one would think. For if one took even a single cursory glance around the campgrounds, they'd see trails of blood leading to mutilated corpses of all shapes and sizes.
They were all teenagers and adults who made the mistake of trespassing onto the territory of the ever vigilant guardian who stalked Crystal Lake for as long as people could remember. Who was this guardian you may have found yourself asking? His name was Jason, Jason Voorhees. He was the average age of a child participating in Camp Crystal Lake's summertime activities.
But there was something wrong with Jason. Apart from obvious things like a bloated head, mangled teeth, and mental retardation, he just seemed to have a hard time interacting in general. He never wished to leave his mother's side. For he would be and always was her special boy and nothing would ever change that.
He had been electrocuted, had a house caved in on him, blown up, had chemical waste hurled into his face, nothing would keep the undead spawn of Pamela Voorhees down forever. The one thing that had delayed him the most however was being dragged to Hell while his body resided in the forest. Left to rot away as leaves hid it from sight and foliage began to grow through Jason's exposed ribcage.
Upon hearing his mother's words however, it only meant one thing. The hands of hell would not be able to keep Jason imprisoned if his mother wanted him for something. As his healing factor kicked in, Jason's decayed form rumbled and his blackened flesh began to cover up his organs once again. His black heart began to beat despite no blood having circulated through Jason's body in years. But he still had one last thing to do before he rose up. As his gloved hands tore through the leaves and snapped the vines in half, he'd grip the hilt of his machete which had been laying nearby as his eyes finally shot open.
Pushing himself up from where his corpse had been sitting all these years, Jason threw a test jab at one of the nearby trees. Tilting his head as his fist smashed straight through the bark of the tree, he'd pull it back and watched at the black ooze that had been his blood at one point drip out of his knuckle. Having lost any sensation of pain after becoming an undead, it only made him curious more than anything else. But he was at least confident that even as his soul was tortured down in Hell, his body hadn't grown weak. But there was work to do. Children to punish because his mother was never wrong. They were all sinners and sinners deserved to die. Tightening the grip on his machete, Jason turned and shambled his way off in the direction of where he had heard noise.
Guilty.
They were all guilty
Just like the ones who murdered his mother.
He'd make them all pay.
Back at the shack, Wes was quickly growing aggravated for there didn't seem to be much more for them to take. Pamela's sweater and the picture of the shack seemed to be the only grabs they had gotten for the day. Little did they know of the murderous legend that was about to reveal that he was much, much more than that. "Wes, isn't this enough? Don't you think we should get going before Jason gets here?" It was only after he had spoken that he realized that he hadn't informed his brother of what he had seen until this moment. Quickly cupping a hand over his mouth, he was pressed back into a corner by a inquisitive Wes.
"Until Jason gets here? Sean, Sean, my little brother. I think you're finally starting to grasp the bigger picture I was talking about. Imagination like that is exactly the kind of stuff we're going to try and get out of our customers. They'll see this sweater and believe they really are Pamela Voorhees. But let me set the record straight and say that Jason Voorhees is dead! No ands ifs or buts about it! The guy was hacked to pieces and you're expecting me to believe that all those other murders were him? He's still buried back at the cemetery!"
Before Sean could even think of a good counter-argument and bring up the reflection, he noticed a figure making his way towards the window. Grasping Wes by the collar of his shirt he'd seek to drag him to the ground as the glass was shattered by someone leaping through it. As the figure walked closer into the light, it became obvious to these two who this was. The rotting flesh, exposed bones, and all kinds of damage to the mask. Glancing down at the two with his one good eye, Jason's mouth twisted into a grimace as he noticed one of the sinners had his mother's sweater. It wasn't his to take! It was his mother's! This one would pay a much more painful death.
As Jason raised his machete with his intent being clear, both Wes and Sean rose to their feet and bolted out through the door. Turning his head to face the two as they ran, Jason made no outward gesture to show that he was bothered at all by them running away. All of his victims assumed that due to his decayed body, he wouldn't be able to keep up with them as they ran. Which in most cases they were right. But what they failed to take into account is that due to Jason's undead nature, he'd never tire. So they could run to the ends of the Earth, but Jason would still be following behind. The same went for these two as they raced back to their car with him slowly trodding after them.
"This isn't him, this can't be him! Jason's dead!" The sight of this was just too much for Wes to bare as his facade finally shattered. He was the one afraid now as Sean was desperately reaching for his seatbelt to clip it in so they could get going. But Wes was leaving with the sweater and that was the end of that! Reaching for his pistol, he'd turn the safety off and proceeded to unload upon Jason. But for every bullet that impacted him, it was another one wasted as the lead buried itself within Jason's undead body. But even as the sickly looking black blood ran out of the wounds it made, Jason wasn't slowed one bit and he continued forward. Not seeing any point in wasting anymore bullets if they weren't gonna stop him, Wes buckled himself in and helped Sean do the same. "Get us the hell out of here, Sean!"
Slamming his foot down on the gas, the car quickly swerved past Jason and away from Camp Crystal Lake. They had managed to escape from his punishment for now. But as long as one of them continued to hold his mother's sweater as if it were his own, they'd never be truly safe and so Jason followed in the direction that the car had blasted off to. Sure, he'd never be able to keep up with it. But that didn't matter. He just had to be patient was all.
As for the brothers after their run in with Jason, the idea of being serial killer merchandise buffs didn't seem as appealing. As they drove, Sean turned attention briefly to Pamela's sweater which had been idly tossed in the back seat as they burned rubber out of Camp Crystal Lake. "Wes, you do know that he probably won't stop until he gets the sweater back right? I say we burn the damn thing. Are you listening, Wes?" Sean asked as it seemed his brother had yet another idea swirling in his head. "Alright, so getting merchandise from Jason's shack turned out to be a less than stellar idea. But what about this? We pawn off the sweater to someone else. Let them deal with Jason." The mere thought of 'siccing' Jason on some poor unfortunate soul was enough to make Sean's stomach do a series of twists and turns. But he also didn't want to risk coming face to face with the undead mass murderer when he least expected it due to his brother's greed.
"..Who did you have in mind?"
"A little family out in the middle of Nowhere, heh.."
While Sean was initially confused by what his brother meant by nowhere, it became clear all too soon upon arriving at their destination. It was indeed right dab smack in the middle of Nowhere, Kansas with dirt as far as the eye can see and only the house and this windmill being anything worth noticing as they pulled up to the front of the house. Stepping out of the car with Pamela's sweater over his shoulder, Wes started to make his way towards the door and gave brief knock on it. This knocking was disturbing the farmer of the home, Eustace who just wanted to read his paper.
"Oh for pete's sake! Go and answer the door, you stupid dog!" Eustace growled as he gave the sleeping pink beagle on the rug a kick in the rear. The dog was sent flying through the air until he impacted into the door. Sliding down it, he'd whimper as he rubbed at the new bruise on his head while opening the door. Seeing Wes standing before him with the sweater, Courage took a whiff of the new smell approaching his nose and turned green with disgust. The smell of that sweater was awful! Glancing down at Courage, Wes flashed a smug smile as he reached down to pet the dog on the head only for Courage to growl at him.
"Aww, now that's no way to be. I just want to drop off a gift to an old associate of mine is all! Now why don't you go and fetch her for me like a good little dog?" Wes asked only for Courage to fold his arms defiantly. Just as Wes was about to punt Courage into next week, a femine Scottish-toned voice broke into the conversation.
"Wes? Wes Cunningham? The same one who took classes with me back in dear ol Scotland?" The voice asked as Courage began flailing his arms up and down and sprouting all sorts of gibberish to indicate that Wes wasn't to be trusted. But as this was the only way to get Jason off their trail, it'd have to be done. So giving a sharp kick to Courage, the dog was sent flying up the stairs as Wes turned towards where the new voice was coming from. "Muriel! Muriel Bagges! I'm so glad you remember me! Yes, that's right. The only American in your class, as a matter of fact!
"It is you, Wes! Oh it's been far too long. Please, sit for a while. I'm almost done with my latest batch of vinegar laden cookies!" Although Wes hadn't been bothered by the smell of Pamela's sweater or Jason's undead body, he knew of Muriel's affection for using vinegar in just about everything and that was far more scary than anything Jason could do to them. Quickly holding the sweater out, Wes shook his head. "O-Oh of course not! I'd really hate to impose on you and your husband, Muriel. I merely came to see if you'd be interested in taking this sweater off our hands. I think it'd look great on you!"
Without even waiting to see if Muriel approved of the choice, Wes shoved the sweater over her head and it was rather small on Muriel's 'hefty' frame. Clasping his hands together, Wes smiled. "It looks beautiful, Muriel! A bit snug I'd imagine but I'm sure you'll adjust to it. Ah, well I can't keep my brother waiting. I'll talk to you again, Muriel!" Wes exclaimed as he turned to quickly head out but only after shooting a glare Courage's way. "Stupid dog."
Picking himself up from where he had been kicked, Courage stuck his tongue out at Wes as he left. Him just deciding to randomly approach Muriel out of nowhere with that nasty smelling sweater didn't sit right with Courage. "Something's fishy here or my name's Nosferatu and it's not!"
Having kept to his paper the whole time Wes was around, Eustace was quietly fuming at how this stranger just up and gave Muriel a gift. Who did this Cunningham think he was?! Giving his wife a sweater! One that smelled almost as bad as that stupid dog! Clipping a clothspin over his nose, Eustace lowered his paper and walked over to Muriel as he began to tug on the sweater, much to Muriel's annoyance and confusion. "Eustace! Have ye lost your marbles?!"
"This sweater smell like wet stupid dog! You're gonna have to get rid of it, Muriel! One way or another!" The farmer exclaimed only for Muriel to thwack him right on the head with a rolling pin. Recoiling, Eustace quickly placed his hands to where he had been bonked. "Ow! What did I do?!" Whimpering as Eustace had lost the battle for the sweater, Courage would just have to keep a closer eye than usual on his two owners as they slept tonight. But Eustace had other plans. Stripping the sweater off Muriel as she slept, Eustace made his way out to the back of the house and quickly tossed the sweater into a garbage can. "Hahahaha! Let's see her wear that!"
Having tracked down the brothers relentlessly, the search finally seemed to have come to a stop at this worn down home. He had been biding his time to strike. But before he could the brothers had escaped yet again and his mother's sweater was now in the possession of someone else who didn't deserve it! Standing behind the windmill, Jason's one eye widened as he saw Eustace chuck what appeared to be his mother's sweater into the garbage! His entire frame shook with unbridled rage as he decided enough was enough. Putting aside his hate for the brothers, Jason started to head towards the backdoor. Meanwhile, Courage had been booted out of the bedroom by Eustace upon his return.
Deciding he'd try to go and sleep on Muriel's chair in the living room then, he could have sworn he saw something approach the back door as he cascaded down the stairs. Gulping, Courage's body was a mess of sweat and fur as he slowly approached the door. "The things I do for love.."
Pulling open the door, Courage would have glanced up to catch all of Jason as the undead killer's body shook with every ragged breath he took. Courage had seen zombies before. But those were easy to fool and he had just buried them under a lot of dirt! But this guy seemed very different from those two and a lot angrier to boot. So he decided the proper reaction was in order.
"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!"
Ironically for all the brutal murders he had under his belt, Jason couldn't find it in himself to hurt an animal. So all Courage's screaming warranted from him was willful ignorance as Jason walked past the screaming dog. He had seen the man with the hat head back in through this way and he'd tear this entire house apart if it meant finding him. He'd pay for throwing his mother's sweater among their filth and garbage! Courage was frantically hopping from one leg to the other. There was no way he could bring this guy down all by himself. But he was going after Muriel and Eustace no doubt! He had to protect them!
electricferret.freeforums.net/thread/616/courage-cowardly-dog
electricferret.freeforums.net/thread/116/jason-voorhees
"Yeah, yeah! I can totally get behind this picture, Sean! The fact that you managed to catch the trees in the frame helps to emphasize just how much of a wildman Jason was! He didn't care one bit about nature getting it's dirty paws all over his shack. Then you got me walking by with my head slightly tilted to the side to show that 'whoa, this is actually where the infamous Crystal Lake Killer once called home' This is gonna be everyone's reaction once they see this picture atop our wall! Now, let's get inside Sean. So much more to explore!"
Sean couldn't really say that he was too eager to continue. Not after the sight he thought he had seen in the reflection on his phone. But Wes seemed dead-set on going and Sean doubted he'd be swayed just by what his little brother thinks he saw laying under a bunch of dirt and leaves. So following Wes in as they closed the door behind them, Sean quickly cupped a hand to his nose. "Eugh! What the hell's that smell?!" It smelled like something that was long since dead. Wes didn't seemed deterred by the rancid scent one bit and continued further within the confines of the shack. Until he finally reached the source of the smell. With a ring of bodies laying around her a shrine had been made to Jason's mother, Pamela Voorhees. With her head sitting atop her blue sweater.
Barely being able to prevent himself from retching all over the damn place, Sean made his way into the backroom and nearly leaped back as he saw his older brother reach for the head. Rushing forward, he sought to grasp Wes's hand. "Wes, what the hell do you think you're doing? That's Jason's mom right there! You can't take her head!"
Annoyed by his brother's pesky interference, Wes sought to shove Sean aside and smacked Pamela's head off the table. Only so he could grab her sweater it seemed. Tossing it over his shoulder, Wes angrily turned towards Sean and pointed a finger in his direction. "I don't know where you think you can get off telling me what to do, Sean. But that stops right now. I'm the older brother and that usually denotes that I'm the one telling you what's what. I don't want the head. I want the sweater because do you know how many sickos would want to try on Pamela Voorhees's blood-stained sweater? They'd be lining up by the dozen! Now, quit your bellyaching and get up. We need to keep looking."
As Pamela's head rolled along the floor after being swatted aside, outside within the woods a muted thumping could have been heard. This was the sound the black heart within Jason Voorhees's chest made as his mother's words rang out to him, even after her death and while he had laid dormant in the woods for years and mother nature had began to take a toll on him. Still, his dear mommy's voice was clear as it had always been.
"Jason, my special special boy! Do you know what your gift is? No matter what they do to you, you cannot die. You can never die! You've just been sleeping honey! But now the time has come to wake up! Mommy has something she wants you to do. The children have been very bad. Hear my voice, Jason and live again!"
The words cascaded across the depths of Jason's mind like a demented cacophony. The forest was like a crypt with how deathly quiet it was. Not even the occasional chirping of a bird cut through the silence. The comparison of the forest to a crypt might have been more accurate than one would think. For if one took even a single cursory glance around the campgrounds, they'd see trails of blood leading to mutilated corpses of all shapes and sizes.
They were all teenagers and adults who made the mistake of trespassing onto the territory of the ever vigilant guardian who stalked Crystal Lake for as long as people could remember. Who was this guardian you may have found yourself asking? His name was Jason, Jason Voorhees. He was the average age of a child participating in Camp Crystal Lake's summertime activities.
But there was something wrong with Jason. Apart from obvious things like a bloated head, mangled teeth, and mental retardation, he just seemed to have a hard time interacting in general. He never wished to leave his mother's side. For he would be and always was her special boy and nothing would ever change that.
He had been electrocuted, had a house caved in on him, blown up, had chemical waste hurled into his face, nothing would keep the undead spawn of Pamela Voorhees down forever. The one thing that had delayed him the most however was being dragged to Hell while his body resided in the forest. Left to rot away as leaves hid it from sight and foliage began to grow through Jason's exposed ribcage.
Upon hearing his mother's words however, it only meant one thing. The hands of hell would not be able to keep Jason imprisoned if his mother wanted him for something. As his healing factor kicked in, Jason's decayed form rumbled and his blackened flesh began to cover up his organs once again. His black heart began to beat despite no blood having circulated through Jason's body in years. But he still had one last thing to do before he rose up. As his gloved hands tore through the leaves and snapped the vines in half, he'd grip the hilt of his machete which had been laying nearby as his eyes finally shot open.
Pushing himself up from where his corpse had been sitting all these years, Jason threw a test jab at one of the nearby trees. Tilting his head as his fist smashed straight through the bark of the tree, he'd pull it back and watched at the black ooze that had been his blood at one point drip out of his knuckle. Having lost any sensation of pain after becoming an undead, it only made him curious more than anything else. But he was at least confident that even as his soul was tortured down in Hell, his body hadn't grown weak. But there was work to do. Children to punish because his mother was never wrong. They were all sinners and sinners deserved to die. Tightening the grip on his machete, Jason turned and shambled his way off in the direction of where he had heard noise.
Guilty.
They were all guilty
Just like the ones who murdered his mother.
He'd make them all pay.
Back at the shack, Wes was quickly growing aggravated for there didn't seem to be much more for them to take. Pamela's sweater and the picture of the shack seemed to be the only grabs they had gotten for the day. Little did they know of the murderous legend that was about to reveal that he was much, much more than that. "Wes, isn't this enough? Don't you think we should get going before Jason gets here?" It was only after he had spoken that he realized that he hadn't informed his brother of what he had seen until this moment. Quickly cupping a hand over his mouth, he was pressed back into a corner by a inquisitive Wes.
"Until Jason gets here? Sean, Sean, my little brother. I think you're finally starting to grasp the bigger picture I was talking about. Imagination like that is exactly the kind of stuff we're going to try and get out of our customers. They'll see this sweater and believe they really are Pamela Voorhees. But let me set the record straight and say that Jason Voorhees is dead! No ands ifs or buts about it! The guy was hacked to pieces and you're expecting me to believe that all those other murders were him? He's still buried back at the cemetery!"
Before Sean could even think of a good counter-argument and bring up the reflection, he noticed a figure making his way towards the window. Grasping Wes by the collar of his shirt he'd seek to drag him to the ground as the glass was shattered by someone leaping through it. As the figure walked closer into the light, it became obvious to these two who this was. The rotting flesh, exposed bones, and all kinds of damage to the mask. Glancing down at the two with his one good eye, Jason's mouth twisted into a grimace as he noticed one of the sinners had his mother's sweater. It wasn't his to take! It was his mother's! This one would pay a much more painful death.
As Jason raised his machete with his intent being clear, both Wes and Sean rose to their feet and bolted out through the door. Turning his head to face the two as they ran, Jason made no outward gesture to show that he was bothered at all by them running away. All of his victims assumed that due to his decayed body, he wouldn't be able to keep up with them as they ran. Which in most cases they were right. But what they failed to take into account is that due to Jason's undead nature, he'd never tire. So they could run to the ends of the Earth, but Jason would still be following behind. The same went for these two as they raced back to their car with him slowly trodding after them.
"This isn't him, this can't be him! Jason's dead!" The sight of this was just too much for Wes to bare as his facade finally shattered. He was the one afraid now as Sean was desperately reaching for his seatbelt to clip it in so they could get going. But Wes was leaving with the sweater and that was the end of that! Reaching for his pistol, he'd turn the safety off and proceeded to unload upon Jason. But for every bullet that impacted him, it was another one wasted as the lead buried itself within Jason's undead body. But even as the sickly looking black blood ran out of the wounds it made, Jason wasn't slowed one bit and he continued forward. Not seeing any point in wasting anymore bullets if they weren't gonna stop him, Wes buckled himself in and helped Sean do the same. "Get us the hell out of here, Sean!"
Slamming his foot down on the gas, the car quickly swerved past Jason and away from Camp Crystal Lake. They had managed to escape from his punishment for now. But as long as one of them continued to hold his mother's sweater as if it were his own, they'd never be truly safe and so Jason followed in the direction that the car had blasted off to. Sure, he'd never be able to keep up with it. But that didn't matter. He just had to be patient was all.
As for the brothers after their run in with Jason, the idea of being serial killer merchandise buffs didn't seem as appealing. As they drove, Sean turned attention briefly to Pamela's sweater which had been idly tossed in the back seat as they burned rubber out of Camp Crystal Lake. "Wes, you do know that he probably won't stop until he gets the sweater back right? I say we burn the damn thing. Are you listening, Wes?" Sean asked as it seemed his brother had yet another idea swirling in his head. "Alright, so getting merchandise from Jason's shack turned out to be a less than stellar idea. But what about this? We pawn off the sweater to someone else. Let them deal with Jason." The mere thought of 'siccing' Jason on some poor unfortunate soul was enough to make Sean's stomach do a series of twists and turns. But he also didn't want to risk coming face to face with the undead mass murderer when he least expected it due to his brother's greed.
"..Who did you have in mind?"
"A little family out in the middle of Nowhere, heh.."
While Sean was initially confused by what his brother meant by nowhere, it became clear all too soon upon arriving at their destination. It was indeed right dab smack in the middle of Nowhere, Kansas with dirt as far as the eye can see and only the house and this windmill being anything worth noticing as they pulled up to the front of the house. Stepping out of the car with Pamela's sweater over his shoulder, Wes started to make his way towards the door and gave brief knock on it. This knocking was disturbing the farmer of the home, Eustace who just wanted to read his paper.
"Oh for pete's sake! Go and answer the door, you stupid dog!" Eustace growled as he gave the sleeping pink beagle on the rug a kick in the rear. The dog was sent flying through the air until he impacted into the door. Sliding down it, he'd whimper as he rubbed at the new bruise on his head while opening the door. Seeing Wes standing before him with the sweater, Courage took a whiff of the new smell approaching his nose and turned green with disgust. The smell of that sweater was awful! Glancing down at Courage, Wes flashed a smug smile as he reached down to pet the dog on the head only for Courage to growl at him.
"Aww, now that's no way to be. I just want to drop off a gift to an old associate of mine is all! Now why don't you go and fetch her for me like a good little dog?" Wes asked only for Courage to fold his arms defiantly. Just as Wes was about to punt Courage into next week, a femine Scottish-toned voice broke into the conversation.
"Wes? Wes Cunningham? The same one who took classes with me back in dear ol Scotland?" The voice asked as Courage began flailing his arms up and down and sprouting all sorts of gibberish to indicate that Wes wasn't to be trusted. But as this was the only way to get Jason off their trail, it'd have to be done. So giving a sharp kick to Courage, the dog was sent flying up the stairs as Wes turned towards where the new voice was coming from. "Muriel! Muriel Bagges! I'm so glad you remember me! Yes, that's right. The only American in your class, as a matter of fact!
"It is you, Wes! Oh it's been far too long. Please, sit for a while. I'm almost done with my latest batch of vinegar laden cookies!" Although Wes hadn't been bothered by the smell of Pamela's sweater or Jason's undead body, he knew of Muriel's affection for using vinegar in just about everything and that was far more scary than anything Jason could do to them. Quickly holding the sweater out, Wes shook his head. "O-Oh of course not! I'd really hate to impose on you and your husband, Muriel. I merely came to see if you'd be interested in taking this sweater off our hands. I think it'd look great on you!"
Without even waiting to see if Muriel approved of the choice, Wes shoved the sweater over her head and it was rather small on Muriel's 'hefty' frame. Clasping his hands together, Wes smiled. "It looks beautiful, Muriel! A bit snug I'd imagine but I'm sure you'll adjust to it. Ah, well I can't keep my brother waiting. I'll talk to you again, Muriel!" Wes exclaimed as he turned to quickly head out but only after shooting a glare Courage's way. "Stupid dog."
Picking himself up from where he had been kicked, Courage stuck his tongue out at Wes as he left. Him just deciding to randomly approach Muriel out of nowhere with that nasty smelling sweater didn't sit right with Courage. "Something's fishy here or my name's Nosferatu and it's not!"
Having kept to his paper the whole time Wes was around, Eustace was quietly fuming at how this stranger just up and gave Muriel a gift. Who did this Cunningham think he was?! Giving his wife a sweater! One that smelled almost as bad as that stupid dog! Clipping a clothspin over his nose, Eustace lowered his paper and walked over to Muriel as he began to tug on the sweater, much to Muriel's annoyance and confusion. "Eustace! Have ye lost your marbles?!"
"This sweater smell like wet stupid dog! You're gonna have to get rid of it, Muriel! One way or another!" The farmer exclaimed only for Muriel to thwack him right on the head with a rolling pin. Recoiling, Eustace quickly placed his hands to where he had been bonked. "Ow! What did I do?!" Whimpering as Eustace had lost the battle for the sweater, Courage would just have to keep a closer eye than usual on his two owners as they slept tonight. But Eustace had other plans. Stripping the sweater off Muriel as she slept, Eustace made his way out to the back of the house and quickly tossed the sweater into a garbage can. "Hahahaha! Let's see her wear that!"
Having tracked down the brothers relentlessly, the search finally seemed to have come to a stop at this worn down home. He had been biding his time to strike. But before he could the brothers had escaped yet again and his mother's sweater was now in the possession of someone else who didn't deserve it! Standing behind the windmill, Jason's one eye widened as he saw Eustace chuck what appeared to be his mother's sweater into the garbage! His entire frame shook with unbridled rage as he decided enough was enough. Putting aside his hate for the brothers, Jason started to head towards the backdoor. Meanwhile, Courage had been booted out of the bedroom by Eustace upon his return.
Deciding he'd try to go and sleep on Muriel's chair in the living room then, he could have sworn he saw something approach the back door as he cascaded down the stairs. Gulping, Courage's body was a mess of sweat and fur as he slowly approached the door. "The things I do for love.."
Pulling open the door, Courage would have glanced up to catch all of Jason as the undead killer's body shook with every ragged breath he took. Courage had seen zombies before. But those were easy to fool and he had just buried them under a lot of dirt! But this guy seemed very different from those two and a lot angrier to boot. So he decided the proper reaction was in order.
"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!"
Ironically for all the brutal murders he had under his belt, Jason couldn't find it in himself to hurt an animal. So all Courage's screaming warranted from him was willful ignorance as Jason walked past the screaming dog. He had seen the man with the hat head back in through this way and he'd tear this entire house apart if it meant finding him. He'd pay for throwing his mother's sweater among their filth and garbage! Courage was frantically hopping from one leg to the other. There was no way he could bring this guy down all by himself. But he was going after Muriel and Eustace no doubt! He had to protect them!
electricferret.freeforums.net/thread/616/courage-cowardly-dog
electricferret.freeforums.net/thread/116/jason-voorhees
