Moon Stomp Awesome

Films of Awesomeness

Good evening. My name is Fitzwilliam, and I shall be your narrator. That's right. All you have to do is picture a South Park adult with a red silk fancy rich-like housecoat on in front of a fire with one of those South Park funny English accents. There you go... Now just imagine it. Now make it so that I'm holding a pipe, or perhaps a glass of fine red wine. Do I have black leather shoes or do I have burgendy slippers? Am I sitting in a soft arm chair, or on top of my monkey slave with an especially large right testicle? It's not my choice, but it is you, the viewer's. I'll let you imagine it now. Don't continue to read until you have suited a perfect narrator... And make sure you imagine the narrator is speaking ONLY when you see the text in bold italics.

Very good. Now let's get this story begun, shall we, mnyes? Mnyes, indeed...

One afternoon in the chilly mountain town of South Park, Colorado, it was Friday. And you all know what Friday nights mean! Movies! In fact, every weekend the 'Bijou Cinemas' had the most business from children 8-18. Kids would come in with money in their pocket just itching to see the new slasher. There was only one show showing every week, so anyone who lived there had to make it count. Normally the boys, Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Eric Cartman, wouldn't see a movie like the one that was in this week, but it was an especially boring and shitty rainy day, so they had no where else to turn for any source of entertainment.

The boys are shown running on their way to the 'Bijou' in the pouring rain.

"Slow down, you guys!" Cartman shouted at the back running his chubby little legs off.

"We can't slow down, Cartman!" Stan called back. "We're almost there!"

"Guys, I'm serious, here! You gotta wait up!"

"We're getting soaked, fat ass!" Kyle shouted, not willing to get even more wet to help someone he barely liked.

Finally they got to the theatre. They all ran underneath the lights, away from the rain.

"Can I help you?" The clerk asked in his windowed box.

Stan walked up to the box and stood on his toes handing the man twenty dollars. "I need four tickets to 'As the Rose Pedal Falls,' please."

The clerk stared right into the 9-year-old's little face. "You... You what?"

"I wanna see the movie."

"Are you positive?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You realize that 'Rose Pedal' is a chick flick."

"It is?" Stan asked realizing they had run in the rain for a chick flick.

"Ya... You still wanna see this movie?"

"I dunno. Kyle?"

"I don't care, dude," Kyle responded.

"NO!" Cartman shouted. He ran up to the box and grabbed the clerk's shirt from under the glass and pulling so that his face was right up against the glass. "I did NOT come all this way to be told that a movie is for girls! I am bored as FUCK right now, and if I don't get my entertainment..." He closed in the the clerk's face; whispering almost. "... I will feed you your own shit... personally."

The clerk pushed a button and 4 tickets pushed out of a slot.

"Why, thank you very much," Cartman thanked normally, taking the tickets.

Inside the theatre, viewers from all over the town are getting set in their seats ready to watch the newest film. What lie in store for these four brave adventurers? Only time shall tell.

The movie began to roll. The screen went black. The words "Sundance Film Festival award winner" slid across the screen.

"... What?" Cartman asked in confusion.

"Dude, what's wrong?" Kyle asked.

"Sundance Film Festival? ... Sundance BUTTHOLE Film Festival?!"

"What's the Sundance FIlm Festival?" Kenny asked.

"They're all a bunch of independant films. They try to be deep and meaningful with their shaking cameras and their black and white dramatic shots of the main character walking on the beach or sitting in a lawn chair or autumn leaves falling!"

"I think that's pretty cool." said Stan.

"Yeah." Kyle agreed.

"Maybe not all indie films are the same, Cartman."

"You think so?" Cartman asked, angrily. "Wait, you'll see."

The screen was black and white. A character was lying in bed naked with loose white sheets across her body. She has rose pedals all over her body and the bed and she is tracing her face with the stem of the rose. The thorns slit the surface of the skin letting small black beads of blood trickle down her cheek along with a tear. "Without him... I am nothing... There is nothing."

"Oh, you see?" said a man to his friend. "She doesn't care about cutting her face because she has obviously lost the love of her life."

"Wow," responded the friend. "That's deep."

"Do you see?" asked Cartman. "DO YOU SEE?!"

"Dude," Stan began. "What the hell is this crap?"

"I need color... It's bugging me." Kyle commented.

The lady pulled the sheets to her breasts as she walked along her hardwood floor. She twisted a dial on her stereo delecately and layed on the floor next to one of the speakers. The stereo plays soft piano; the music is sombre. "I listened to this song 57 times exactly, this being 58. I listen to this song because there are no words. No soul. No heart. Yet... so much more." Another tear rolled down her face.

"This movie reminds me of my hardships in love," a woman said to her husband. "It's so touching, I must continue to watch. Hold me, darling." He did.

"Dude, screw this!" Kenny shouted.

"Yeah!" Stan and Kyle agreed.

The four boys hoped off of their seats and walked out of the door.

"Dude, that sucked ass!" complained Stan.

"I know, right?" Cartman asked.

Kyle stood in front of the box where the clerk was. "Excuse me?"

"Yes?" the clerk asked.

"Umm, I'm sorry to say this, but, um. That movie sucked balls. Like, REALLY big balls."

"What?!" The clerk shreiked. "How could you say that? That film won awards!"

"Oh yeah? What awards?!"

"Well... You know... Those awards that you never hear about... I'm pretty sure they're legit, though..." His voice trailed.

"Sir," Kyle began. "Coming from ME, this will mean a WHOLE lot... That was a gay, faggy, dick-bashing queery heap of anal puss..."

Stan smiled. "Dude!"

"There..." Kyle said walking away, rejoining his friends. "I said it."

"Ah, screw him, Kyle, let's go." Stan said. And they did.

On their way back to their houses, it didn't get any more rainy. They boys had to result to pulling their jackets over their heads.

"Man, this rain sucks." Stan said.

"Totally." Kyle chimed in.

Cartman began to laugh. The others looked back at him. "What's so funny?" asked Kenny.

"I was just thinking," Cartman chuckled. "This could be the perfect setting for one of those movies."

"Yeah?" Stan asked.

"Totally." Cartman said. "We could record it starting from the street light." His voice began to become delicate. His hands were his imaginary view of the camera, capturing every shot with his glove-covered palms. "The image slowly crosses from the stars to the streets and into the sewers... And we hear a voice saying... softly... 'The waters of my life flow ever so gently across the river and into the stream of light... As time goes by the rocks of love erode... As does my time... My precious... precious time.'" He looked back at the boys who were staring.

"Dude," Stan said. "How many people see those stupid films?"

"Millions." Cartman said. "Millions of snobby people who sip black coffee in New York city in their fancy lofts with exposed brick. People who wear unneeded glasses with thick brims on the tip of their noses and wear brown turtle necks and sit in bean bag chairs and bring lap tops to Starbucks to write novels!" Cartman was getting angry.

"Dude!" Stan shouted amazed.

"What?" Kyle asked.

"We could totally pull this off!"

"We could?"

"Of course we could! Millions of people watch this shit! If we can amp up the romance and the modern furniture and the Starbucks part, we could totally rake in millions of dollars!"

"Dude, that's an awesome idea!"

"What do you say Kenny?!"

"Whatever." Kenny responded.

"Cartman?" Kyle asked. "You in?"

Eric stood there; stone-faced. "I am in like a fag in a Cher concert."

"HEY!"