The game is more entertaining than it might sound, promise. You'll figure it out as you read if you don't understand it.
Anywho, this is just a collection of Tremors snippets of the Dialogue Game. Mostly rather funny. Also kinda like little prompts, if you would like to view them as such. And just so y'all know (since I'm uploading this on my account instead of the RV account - I logged into the wrong one and didn't feel like logging back out, sue me), V is me, R is Rumpy.
Since this is a game that goes by quickly, uploading each one separately would be SO MUCH POSTING, so I'm uploading every time we get a set of 15.
*DISCLAIMER* RV makes no claim to own Tremors or its characters. They are the property of S.S. Wilson and ScyFy Entertainment. No profit is made from this writing.
V-
Tyler took one, two, three more swings with the sledge hammer, breaking through the cement wall and into the space beyond. He dropped the hammer and quickly crawled through the hole. He didn't have time to look where it was leading, he just hoped there wasn't more trigger-happy shadows.
Shadows, no. Happy, definitely not. However, there was a very pissed-and-confused Burt Gummer standing in his living room with his Desert Eagle trained at Tyler's chest.
"What. The. HELL, Tyler?!"
Tyler looked back at the hole behind him. He'd broken through Burt's gun wall, destroying quite a few in the process. Woops.
"Uhhh..." Tyler looked back at his partner in puzzled innocence. "Sorry?"
R-
Harlow hammered the last stake into the ground, wiping sweat from his brow. The desert sun had been baking on him all morning and afternoon and he was very ready to return to the ranch and call it a day.
The ranch-hand turned away from the new fence, starting back to his truck when a strange but too-familiar noise sounded behind him.
Fip. Fip. Fip fip fip fipfipfipfip.
He turned around as it started to grow closer and faster. Every post within his vision was falling to the ground, moving to the one he had just ended with. He just watched as all but that final wooden stake hit the ground.
El Blanco reared from the ground a few feet from Harlow. The Native American man held up a hand. "I'll get that for you."
He kicked over the post and walked off towards his truck, E.B. taking off in the opposite direction.
V-
The tourists gathered around the windows and the two women in the store, confused and slightly worried. None of them understood what was so funny about the camo-painted truck pulling into town. Or why the women were stuttering, "Pink! It's pink!" over and over again as they gasped for breath, as if it was so entirely odd that a woman would have pink-camo paint. Or why the Latina getting out of the truck looked so downright smug and sinister. Or why their tour guide, currently helping the previous group unload, quite literally fell off his jeep when he looked up.
The driver sauntered her way inside, throwing the tourists a sly smile as they stared at her.
"You painted it pink!" the store owner gasped, tears streaming down her face, still unable to stop laughing. "Pink!"
The Latina just shrugged. "He shouldn't've used my cattle for bait."
R-
Jodi heard her door slam open and someone skid into the store in an obvious frenzy. "Morning, Larry," she greeted without looking up.
"Jodi!" Tyler instead responded, sounding vaguely out of breath, so she looked up in surprise.
"Tyler, are you okay?" the store owner asked worriedly, seeing him lean heavily on the counter.
He took a deep breath, nodding.
"What's the matter? Is there another creature in the valley?" she demanded. He shook his head. "What is it then?"
"Did you know that Burt owns a boat?" he asked.
"Um, yeah, but what happened?"
"Burt owns a boat!"
"... That's it?"
Tyler nodded vigorously. "Burt owns a boat and he has never brought me fishing!"
V-
"A boatyard."
"Yes, Tyler. It's a boatyard."
"Why the hell is a shrieker terrorizing a boatyard?"
Burt let out an exasperated huff. "How should I know? We're here to kill it, not figure out its motive." Tyler hummed, but didn't argue. Burt turned back to the lot owner, who was looking between them with a raised eyebrow. "Now where did you say you last saw it?"
The man pointed off to one of the far corners. "Over by our two deep-sea fishing rigs. It was tearing through the hull of one, but I scared it off. Dunno where it went."
Burt nodded, peering thoughtfully over the boatyard. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Tyler interrupted him with a quiet, barely distinct whisper.
"Maybe it wants to go fishing."
"OH MY GOD, WOULD YOU LET THAT GO?!"
"No."
R-
"Albino graboids don't metamorphose," Nancy told the tourist that had randomly decided to follow her around, asking countless questions and never letting up.
"How do you guys KNOW for sure though?" the woman prodded. "There hasn't ever been any other recorded graboids with albinism."
She sent the woman a look. "We know because he hasn't, and he would have already if he was going to."
"But what IF? Just hypothetical. What would you guys do if your graboid turned into shriekers?"
"We would kill the shriekers so they wouldn't kill everyone else, then we would have to leave the town and tourists wouldn't be allowed back. HYPOTHETICALLY, I would, sadly, never have to see you again."
V-
Tyler came to in complete and utter darkness with something heavy draped across his back. He didn't remember having been knocked out, but going from the throbbing in his head, it wasn't unexpected. He tried to move and groaned. Whatever was on top of him was poking him rather painfully in the side.
"Stop moving," Burt hissed.
Tyler grunted as his partner's voice triggered his memory. They'd been following what appeared to be another graboid on the monitor before the "worm" had suddenly popped out of the ground, spread its leathery wings, and took off, knocking the truck over and sending its occupants flying. Tyler guessed they had fallen down the hole it had popped out of.
"Was that a butterfly?" Tyler asked.
Burt paused in his wiggling with a slightly disgusted sound. Tyler heard him wiping his hand on his pants. "Looked like. I think it had just metamorphosed. There's something like cocoon skin down here."
"So that's what I'm lying on…it feels gross."
"Just stay still. There's a bunch of loose dirt above us, but a tunnel behind. I'm trying to get to it."
"If I end up buried alive again, I'm going to kill you."
"Duly noted."
R-
"That's not how my mom made grilled cheese," Larry commented as he watched Jodi at the stove.
She glared his way. "I don't CARE, Larry."
He shrugged. "My mom made the best grilled cheese."
"Okay, how did she make it then?" the store owner asked with a huff.
"Lots more butter," he replied. "And hers would be thinner and more melted."
"Well, why don't YOU make it then, instead of asking me?"
"You don't let me behind the counter."
V-
"Hey Tyler, what time did you say the-" Rosalita froze mid-sentence when she entered the garage, staring at Tyler bent over the engine of her car, his hand in a large tub of butter.
Tyler looked back at her, his eyes slightly widened. "H-hey!" his voice came out slightly squeaky and he cleared his throat. "This...this is not...what you think...I..." Rosalita's eyebrows rose slowly as he stuttered. "I ran out of oil."
Her gaze went back to the tub of butter.
"J-jodi wouldn't give me her bacon grease..."
Rosalita opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to find something to say before giving up and turning around, her expression a mix of confusion and I-could've-gone-my-whole-life-without-seeing-that. She hurried away, leaving Tyler red-faced and his hand still in the butter.
R-
Casey shook her head adamantly. "No, it's okay, Jodi. I just don't like sweet potatoes, I told you." She slid the plate back towards the Asian woman.
Jodi pushed the plate back towards her encouragingly. "Come on, just try it for me. It's my new recipe for sweet potato fries. I think you might like them, trust me."
The scientist sighed, taking one of the curled, orange fries and tried it. After a moment, she smiled. "Hey, this IS actually good! How did you make them? They are so crispy and... just wow."
Jodi beamed triumphantly. "I fried them in bacon grease. I'm going to serve them to the tourists."
Casey laughed. "You managed to make the healthiest kind of fry completely bad for you. But why did you have me try them?"
"Because if I could get you to like them, I could get anyone to like them."
Casey nodded. "True, true."
Jodi tried one herself. "I was thinking of cutting them very long and advertising them as graboid tongues," she added.
Stopping midway to eating another, Casey looked down at the fry. "Hm. I'm not sure if I like the, anymore."
V-
"Hmm, how 'bout...~Graaaboids, graaaboids, nothing says summer like...gra-aboids!~"
Tyler scrunched up his face. "What's that tune from?"
"Can't remember," Larry admitted. "But it sounds cool!"
"I guess...but..."
Larry looked up suspiciously. "But what? It's good! It'd go perfect for Jodi's ad."
"Larry, it's November."
"...Oh."
R-
"What is this?" Tyler asked flatly.
"It's... snow," the local, a cop, said in confusion.
Tyler kicked at the fluffy, white ice. "It's not even November," he said in disbelief. "There is, like, three inches of snow. What is this?"
The guy have him a puzzled look. "Umm... October snow? That happens."
"No, no way. I refuse to believe it," the tour guide said, starting to walk away. "Snow in October? That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"
Once he was a bit further away, Burt sighed. "Sorry, he really doesn't like the cold," he apologized before following his partner.
V-
"Tyler!" Burt called, knocking on his bedroom door. "You awake?"
A low moan answered him. He opened the door to look at Tyler buried under the blankets of his bed. Burt pulled the covers back to look at him. Tyler stared bleary back, looking pathetic.
"Your bed smells like gun powder," he mumbled.
"Don't complain," Burt said. "It wasn't my idea to have you camped out in my bunker, blame Nancy. How're you feeling?"
"Fuzzy as peaches," Tyler grumped sarcastically. "What do you want?"
"Just wanted to know if you were hungry. Nancy made her 'Cold Cure' soup."
Tyler groaned at the mention of food and buried himself under the blankets again. "Go away."
R-
"¡A Díos mio!" Rosalita almost shouted. "Look at that! Burt actually brought something this time!"
The girls watched from the front porch of Nancy's house, waiting for the boys to arrive for their potluck. Tyler had just shown up with Burt, the former carrying his normal case of beer while the survivalist brought a covered pot.
Nancy laughed. "I didn't even know you owned a pot, Burt!" she called, recieving an annoyed look in return.
"I didn't even know you could cook," Jodi said. "What did you make?"
He walked up, setting the pot down on the table set up on the porch. "It's cactus soup," Tyler answered for him as he came up behind Burt. All three girls made faces. "Hey, don't knock it til ya try it. I had some, it's actually not bad."
V-
"Maybe it's flying toads. Or flying cows. Or flying earthworms. Or flying shriekers!" Larry got more animated with each suggestion, practically hopping alongside Tyler. The tour guide raised an eyebrow at the last comment but decided to ignore it.
"What's with you and flying?"
Larry shrugged. "I just want something that flies. It'd be so cool!"
"And likely more dangerous and/or harder to contain," Tyler pointed out.
"Yeah, but...maybe it's a flying plant!" The idea exploded out of the younger man with a force that startled Tyler and literally made Larry jump a foot in the air. He ended up going a little sideways as well, his feet hitting the edge of the ravine they were walking beside and tumbling down the small hill. He reached the bottom with a pained scream that had Tyler wincing, followed by dead silence.
"Larry...you okay?"
There was a small whimper. "I have needles in places needles should never be."