One second we’re talking about the divorce of my parents when I was 4, and the next thing I know, I have feet for hands and Lecter is picking at a plate of my small intestine. This dude would mind-fuck me into oblivion and make me think it was the best time I ever had. Naked, ridiculed, and dismembered. And you wonder why shit like this haunts my dreams.
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I might survive Medusa by simply scratching my eyes out, but how do I survive someone that wants to kill me with my own thoughts? There is literally no way I could NOT think of something the moment she asked me to choose the form of The Destructor. I gave it some thought and, in no particular order, here’s a list of things that would probably kill me: Phoebe Cates’ boobs. A pizza. The 1989 Detroit Pistons. Heart shaped pubic hair. Buzz Lightyear. And the theme song from ‘The Greatest American Hero’.
There’s a naked snake-lady across the room that’s staring at me with her demon eyes and miniature snake corn-rows and I can’t even sneak a glance because I’ll turn to stone and die. Awesome. She’s probably standing right in front of the TV too.
How long do you think it takes before this a-hole strips down and starts fucking with me? I might forget about him for a while but I’d always have this feeling in the back of my mind that there’s an invisible dong an inch away from my eye.
Good God, you might as well kill me. Very few characters have ever got under my skin like this deformed bitch. I’d push her over into the corner and curl up in the fetal position as far away as possible as she called out to me for food. However, if she ever got up and scampered over the way she did in the dream sequence of this film I would literally self-implode with fear. Every hole in my body would leak vital liquid and I would be dead within seconds.
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This little fucker would leave me hanging from my own shoelaces within minutes. As if I’m not socially awkward enough, I have to be locked in a room with a borderline dwarf that talks backwards. And when I finally do decipher what the hell he’s saying – it ends up being shit like that line above. Do your sub-titles have sub-titles, you little prick? What the hell are you talking about?
It would be my luck to get locked in a room with some horny hottie infected with a horrifying flesh-eating virus. Would I hit it? Probably, and that’s why she’s on the list.
I wonder how long we can play this game before one of us dies – Clone-Matthew notices me, I offer up some sort of conversation, Clone-Matthew points at me and emits a glass shattering scream to alert other clone-assholes of my existence. Then he gets tired and takes a nap, wakes up, and starts all over again. I’m not sleeping for shit. The last thing I need is for him to poop some space pod out and replace me with a version of myself with even less emotion. Nobody wants that.
I might humor him for a while – “Ha-ha, do Pac-Man again!” – but things would quickly turn violent. One too many “beeps” or “boops” and I would lock this fucker in an epic sleeper hold while delivering constant knees to the kidneys, hoping to find the off switch.
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There are literally thousands of little kids and/or musical characters I could have put on this list. I decided to jam them all together and out popped this tiny annoying fire cracker. If there’s anything worse than listening to a chatty little princess talk about how cute her puppy is while blinding me with strategically placed dimples and a Sideshow Bob wig – it’s having her sing while doing it.