Disclaimer: I own nothing....except I do love Freddy...Weird...
"La la la la la, Da da da da da da, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Everything fell silent, as Freddy cackled feindishly flicking the crimson liquid off the blades of his glove.
After thinking about wiping the blade on his sweater, he thought otherwise...
The sweater was dry clean only.
"What to do?" Freddy wondered out loud, watching the blood rush from the wound on his victim, (Some chorus member), he decided to lick the blades clean.
The lights dimmed and a voice directly in front of him shouted:
"Robert?! What the hell are you doing? That is not in the script!" Wes Craven's voice boomed.
'Freddy's' head snapped up quickly, his expression livid.
"What do you mean what am I doing?!...Wes, your stifling my creativity; it's genius!" Robert Englund snarled at the director.
"How is it 'genius'? It's..."
"Sick, twisted, disgusting...Everything Freddy should be! Think about it Wes...I will make this movie a billion dollar success..." Robert soothed.
"No, you won't, because I will!" A gruff voice cut in before Robert could make a deal with Wes.
Robert Englund turned to see who dared contradict him, and his billion dollar decision.
His eyes snapped open and bulged from his head as he realized he was standing in the presence of the Dream Demon himself...The real Freddy Krueger...
Robert dropped his gaze, and glove to search the floor.
"Mr. Krueger, I've enjoyed portraying you so much, and I hope I'm..."
Freddy's icy gazed threw a hush on Robert's pointless speech of suck-uppy-ness.
"Mr. Englund?"
Wes and Krueger's eyes fell on Robert who was uneasily.
He felt nauseous.
Freddy stepped forward.
Robert shuddered and backed away slightly.
Freddy didn't give an inch, he had Robert cornered faster than...something being caught really fast...
(*Give me a break people!?*)
Freddy's face was leveled with Robert's.
The smell of death, and cigarette smoke; What a combination.
It was all thrust in Robert's face as Freddy inhaled and exhaled evenly, unlike Robert's shallow and rapid breathing,
Robert gagged instinctively.
Freddy leaned closer and whispered.
"This, will be your last paycheck..."
Robert reached out with numb fingers and plucked it from Freddy's hand.
Freddy made room for Robert to squeeze by, before clicking his claws together.
"This is the part where you run away never to bother the studio again..."
No one had to tell Robert twice.
He ran as fast as his legs could carry him.
Upon arriving at his car, he realized something...
"He can't beat me at playing him!? The studio needs me!"
Freddy materialized next to the car.
"I said get!"
Robert's car sped off, as Freddy motioned to the shadows against the east wall of the parking garage.
The Horror Gang shuffled forward to flank Freddy as he spat out instructions.
"Jason follow and destroy him; Michael you help Jason...And Elliot,...you bring me a latte....I'm in Hollywood now."