By Alex Lemonds.
This is a prequel to Party At Pammy's.
VAs (mental casting): Padget Brewster as Poison Ivy. Yuri Lowenthal as Mark. Bumper Robinson as Patrick. Crispin Freeman as Hank. Troy Baker as Gus. Tom Kenny as Marty. Linda Hamilton as Proto-Susan. Melissa Rauch as Harley Quinn. Frank Welker as Pumpkin Beast.
We open to a dense, forested area. Nearly nothing but trees, bushes & shrubs for miles with a couple of meadows ahead to break them up. First one is situated above a stream. It's sundown. We hear rustling sounds. Two, caucasian hands come parting through a bush, a young man walking out into full view. He's dirty blonde, brown eyed, muscular build, wearing a buttoned up green flannel shirt, black cargo shorts, brown boots & carrying a hefty looking backpack. This is Mark. His four, emerging companions are similarly dressed. Black, svelte guy with a Peace symbol headband is Patrick. Skinny, fair skinned, bird nosed red head with blue eyes is Hank. Chubby, bald Native American gent wearing a Gotham University Ravens cap is Gus. Blonde, bespectacled, green eyed schmuck with braces is Marty. Mark checks his compass, needle points north. Mark:"Yep, definitely the right direction."
Hank face palms.
Hank:"Ugh! You've been saying that for 3 hours!"
Mark:"I'm telling you, we're close to intersecting with the trail."
Turns towards the others, who've stopped to breath, hands on knees.
Mark:"Look, guys, I know. We're all exhausted, irritated, but, I promise we'll find our way back to the hiking trail. This is my fault, leading us off course. My curiosity, my mistake to fix. Alright? Now, I figure…"
Points at yonder meadow & stream adjacent.
Mark:"We make camp, refill our canteens, then by morning we'll be reinvigorated enough to continue on to finish this. Sound good?"
They sigh, shrug, then lumber off towards the awaiting meadow. Hank walks next to Marty, whispering into the former's ear.
Hank:"I say, we ditch Captain Misdirection around midnight."
Marty:"You'd rather add to our lost status by making us lost from the others too? Because, that's what'll probably happen if we stray."
Hank:"Better than following the lead of a wandering eyed twit with a questionably working compass. I'm thinking, we leave, recounter to the trail, send help, everybody's grinning at the end. Sound good?"
Marty:"What if WE can't find the trail by ourselves, Hank? Then what?"
Hank:"Hey, whose dad was a Kaznian War veteran?"
Marty:"Well, yours, but, you & Mark're brothers."
Hank:"Half-brothers. Ugh. Besides, I actually bothered to listen to dad's old army stories. Mark? Relying solely on boy scout training. Pfft! I ask you, what's more credible wisdom to call on?"
Walks away, Marty rolls his eyes. They both stroll past a shrub. We see a familiar, flashing red light, the faint sound of a camera lense whirring as it zooms in. Smash cut to Pamela Isley in the alcove section of her greenhouse, sitting in her sunflower recliner, wearing a green tank top, black pants & orange socks her hair tied into a ponytail. Shirt has the Chez Gerard logo. There is a sewing machine on the coffee table. We see her stitching together a costume bearing a certain emblem set against a yellow shield. Lap top is lying on the loveseat. Screen begins flashing red. Pam rises up, strolls over to it & presses the "C" key. It displays our youthful fivesome pitching tents, setting up a fire pit. She smirks wickedly.
Pamela Isley:"Mmm, company. Wonderful…"
Fade to black. Fade back in. Five tents in a circular arrangement, tiny campfire pit in the middle. We see Mark, Patrick & Gus roasting s'mores contently whilst Hank scowls cross armed & Marty is playing with a handheld video game device. We hear owls hooting, crickets. Night is alive. Mark tilts his head up, staring at the star studded night sky.
Mark:"Anybody up for playing Spot The Constellations?"
Gus grins, laughs, scooting closer to Mark.
Gus:"Haven't done that since summer camp!"
Patrick:"Wait! Hang on…"
Reaches into his pocket, fetching a black cigarette lighter & fat joint.
Patrick:"Lemme slide into the right headspace."
Lights it up, takes a deep inhale & thoughtlessly blows the smoke at Hank, who coughs furiously.
Hank:"Ackh! Goddamnit! Cabin flashbacks setting in!"
Gets up, dusts his legs off, heads towards his tent returning with a pink aerosol can, spraying generously. Patrick, red eyed, chuckles dumbly, patting Hank on the chest. NOTE: Mark is so caught up in stargazing he doesn't notice initially. For those wondering why he didn't kibosh the spraying sooner.
Patrick:"Environment, man. Hehehe. Give a shit, don't piss on it! Please, hehehe, minimal air pollution, dawg. Trees need more love."
Sits down, sprays a little more, glaring at his stoner chum.
Hank:"At least my air pollution is agreeable."
Blows another thick cloud of MJ haze at him, Hank responds by shoving a cackling Patrick onto the ground then covering his nose via his forearm. Sprays fervently in every direction. Mark grabs him by the wrist, snatching it from him.
Mark:"Whoa, too close to the fire. Don't wanna start a group sized Viking funeral. Guys, chill. Let's just sit, watch the sky in peace. Okay?"
Hank complies, grumbling under his breath. Smash cut to Pamela exiting her greenhouse. She's carrying two jam jars filled with green goop. One is marked:"Susan Strain MK-002." The other:"Beast Strain MK-457." Isley bends down, busts out a foldable gardening trowel, digs two small holes, dumps the goopy jar contents into one each, buries them & finally pours a tiny amount of bottled water onto the dirt piles. Stands up, taking a few steps back as the ground starts rumbling. Two very differently shaped figures come rising up from the soil. One is curvy, long haired, feminine. The other is towering, bulky with an inhumanly squat, squarish head, long bull like horns jutting from it's sides. Both appear as dark silhouettes with creepy white eyes.
Pamela Isley:"Children, mommy needs you to entertain her guests while she gets ready. Sound fun to you?"
They both grin maliciously, their sexy maker joining in.
Pamela Isley:"I thought it would."
Fade to black. Fade back in. The fire's been extinguished. Everyone is sleeping within their respective tents, save Gus, whose curled up next to the doused fire pit, his face smeared with chocolate. We see Hank sneakily leave his, tippy toeing past Gus whose snore talking.
Gus:"Zzz… No… No, Coach Fulger… Zzz… She's my sister… It'd be wrong…"
Smash cut to Hank entering Marty's tent, latter fast asleep. Jostled by the shoulder the forest eyed dweeb opens his eyes so very, very slightly. Very, very half awake.
Marty:"Whuh?…"
Hank points back with his thumb.
Hank:"Midnight. Time to book it."
Rubs eyes, still semiconscious.
Marty:"Whuh… Oh… Yeah. Be right with ya."
Hank withdraws from sight, Marty yawns, settling back into bed, snoring resumed. Is suddenly struck on the chest by a backpack, knocking him awake. Skip ahead to several hours later. Hank & Marty are jogging through the woods, flashlights in hand. Hank has a determined face whilst Marty just looks cheesed.
Marty:"We've been walking since forever, dude. Ready to admit this was a lousy plan then try retracing our steps back towards camp?"
Hank:"And what? Stomach Pat's gross ass roach stank untill we're forced to die from self given asphyxiation? Pfft! to that tune."
Marty:"I'm just saying, Mark knew what he was doing."
Hank turns around to poke his chest.
Hank:"And I REALLY know what I'm doing. There's a difference. Ugh. Look, if you're going to groan throughout this whole trek then you should spare my ears & go."
Walks away, Marty flips him off. Suddenly a series of dark green tendrils descend, wrapping around the ambushed nerd, muffling his screams as he's hoisted into the trees. Smash cut to Patrick shaking Mark awake.
Patrick:"Dude! Dude!"
Mark:"Whuh… What is it? What's wrong?"
Patrick:"I went to share my shrooms, y'know, as an apologetic gesture, but Hank was most definitely gone, bruh."
Mark:"What?!"
Returning to Hank, still walking without a clue. Stops, sniffs, begins grinning quite stupidly.
Hank:"Mmm! What's that sweet smell?"
Smash cut to him pushing past a bush, still sniffing the air.
Hank:"Mmm! Like sugared honey mixed with strawberries."
Strolls onward until he reaches the base of a hill. Looking up, Hank's treated to a sublime sight: golden hair, jade eyes, heart shaped face, supple pink lips, vase waistline, long perfect legs & plentiful bosom wearing a lilly white strapless swimsuit, sitting on a tree stump in front of another, still intact, tall oak tree, humming softly. Notices him, giggles. Beckons with finger, Hank scrambles up to her.
Proto-Susan:"Hi there."
He smiles wide, teeth showing. Smash cut to Mark, Patrick & Gus flashlights in hand, strolling through the forest.
Mark:"Hank! Marty! You two out here?!"
Gus:"Ugh. Could've been polite & picked another night to runaway. Too full of s'mores for nocturnal tracking."
Patrick:"Your lack of moderation nauseates me."
Takes a lengthy inhale from a roach, smirking.
Patrick:"Yep."
Gus rolls his eyes. We see a large, white eyed shape in the thickets. Watching, following… Fade to black. Fade back in. Panning into frame, Hank sitting on the tree stump, the grinning mystery lady on his lap, arms around his neck. Hank's beaming mug very noticable.
Hank:"So, the circus huh?"
Softly rubs his cheek.
Proto-Susan:"Mmm hmm. Mother was a championship diver. Should've seen her & dad's act. He was King Neptune and she was his mermaid bride. After the folks passed it was my turn. Made the show my very own. Water Lilly! Sea Goddess! Oooh! I still get goose bumpy reminiscing about those taglines!"
Lowers head, stares off, sorrowful.
Proto-Susan:"Then, Malcolm joined up. He was so handsome, charming, nice. Last couldn't stick…"
Shows him her left wrist, bruised. Hank looks shocked, incensed.
Proto-Susan:"I've spent… wasted… the last three years believing him. Every excuse, no matter how crap. He'd dump the usuals at my feet. Flowers, jewelry, puppies. Each following in the wake of another night of drunken blame then blam."
Lifts up portion of her swimsuit, exposing black bruises on the lower part of her waistline. Hank grits his teeth, pissed. Proto-Susan gazes off, tearing up as her mouth quivers.
Proto-Susan:"Yesterday was the final straw. Stumbled into our trailer. One hand around dribbled whiskey, other busy with a 19 year old blonde ditz. That's when it sunk in, that no matter how much I wished for it, he'd never change. Never be who I needed."
Hank cups her chin, turning her towards his concerned face.
Hank:"What you did was brave. Never, EVER doubt it."
She embraces him in a hug, which he reciprocates. Zoom in on Proto-Susan's face. Closed eyes, crying. Opens them. Smiles wickedly… Breaks hug, holding his face in her hands, bedroom eyed.
Proto-Susan:"You've been such a sweetheart."
Gingerly caresses his lips with her finger. Hank's face is completely twitterpated.
Proto-Susan:"I'd enjoy nothing more than to repay you. But how? Hmm?"
Leans in, warm breath on his mouth.
Proto-Susan (breathless):"Any ideas?"
Pulls him into a deep, passionate kiss. Smash cut to Gus, almonds choco bar in hand, alone, passing through shrubs.
Gus:"Crap, now I'M lost. This trip's been a-"
Heavy breathing from behind him. He stops, startled, petrified face.
Gus:"B-bummer?"
Looks around, waving flashlight. Sees nothing but shaded greenery. The breathing continues, getting louder…
Gus:"Uh, Ma-Mark? Pat-Pat-Patrick?"
Breathing gets closer…
Gus:"This isn't funny, guys! Not the time to be pulling this dark woods ambush scare bull! Pl-please just co-"
Turns, walks into a large, dense surface, falling onto his butt, dropping the flashlight. Gus quakes in complete dread. The light reveals a tall, black horn headed outline with glowing white eyes. It salivates.
Gus:"Mother… of…"
The entity shrieks loudly then lunges at him, Gus in turn releasing a blood curdling wail. Then, crunch… NOTE: this creature sounds like the titular giant snake from the cheesy 90s B-flick Anaconda. Goofy movie, creepy monster noises provided by Frank Welker. Smash cut, slide pan into view. Hank & Proto-Susan are on the grass, making out quite fervently. She's on top, grinding into his crotch, sucking on his tongue, he then nibbles on her top lip. Breaks from kissing Hank licking her lips, grinning evilly, giggling.
Proto-Susan:"Mmmmm. Hoping your lips weren't the only thing good genes gave you."
Slides towards his crotch as Hank sits up against the tree stump, using it like a headboard. Tugs on his shorts teasingly then pulls them off, exposing a throbbing, mammoth skin staff she begins palming softly. Cooly blows the tip, Hank moans, leaking pre-cum, Proto-Susan giggles.
Proto-Susan:"Oooh. Looks like my wishes are finally being granted. Mmmm. So thick, so sensitive. So… tasty looking…"
Swiftly envelopes his bubblegum coloured sausage. Pats the roof of her tongue onto his shift, slowly slinking down, then up, then down again repeatedly before swirling around the tip clockwise then counter. Continues for 3 minutes then switches to deep throating. Further, further in until it's all the way in back, proceeding to bob northward to southward, humming, vibrating. A full 20 minutes elapse, before Hank's initiated pulling on her hair tacitly.
Hank:"Ugh… God… Here it… Ugh…"
Face turns lobster shaded, moans. We hear Proto-Susan swallowing. She doesn't stop until he's done. Releases placid boner, sighing.
Proto-Susan:"Yummy."
Lays on his chest, tracing it with her index & middle fingers.
Hank:"This night's done a 180 for me."
Hank tilts his head back, eyes shut, satisfied smirk. Red liquid drips on his forehead, then eye lids. Opens.
Hank:"Whuh? Rain?"
Points flashlight up at the overhead branches, is chilled to the bone by what he gazes at: a human carcass hung up by the ankles via tied tendrils. Drenched bloody, every piece of skin sliced off, the nose, teeth & tongue gone. The empty, green eyes inform it's identity.
Hank:"Ma… Ma… Mart-Marty? God…"
Lowers head, flashlight shining forward. Is stunned silent by what he's next greeted with: Proto-Susan's pupils have vanished, pulsing, spinach coloured veins litter her writhing face. Opens mouth, flashes fangs.
Proto-Susan:"Like your surprises, sweetheart?"
Hank pushes her off, gets up & starts booking it down the hill, looking back, flashlight lit Proto-Susan gradually inching after him, gliding, in no hurry. Smash cut to Mark & Patrick returning to their camp site. It's close to dawn now. Bluebirds chirp. Mark pops a squat next to the extinguished fire pit, poking the ashy, charred wood with a twig, thinking whilst Patrick is rummaging through his tent before emerging with a bag of peyote, pills, tranq darts, etc. Sits Indian style right next to Mark, shaking his bag. Loudly. So, so, so loudly. Gratingly loudly. Wanna kill. Mark:"That uptight sourpuss know it all. All night. Nothing. Ugh. Him & Marty are probably crossing into a nature preserve by now. Won't reconnect with the trail. Wind up bear lunch. Adding to that we lost Gus too. Think there'd have been a trail of candy wrappers to look for. Nope. And, I myself am still lo-"
Shoves a snorting Patrick to the ground.
Mark:"Will you please stop shaking that goddamn bag?!"
Rustling sounds in the distance, faint crunching.
Mark:"Wait… What was that?"
Rises up onto his feet, pulls up Patrick.
Mark:"Come on. Might be Gus."
Smash cut to Hank huddled up inside a bush, trembling as he sees Proto-Susan's legs come into view, right next to him. Covers mouth, stifling his hyperventilation noises. She stands there, legs turn about, walks away. Hank sighs, relieved. Gradually, steadily crawls out before standing up a couple feet from the bush. Stares side to side. Zoom past we see Proto-Susan hanging upside down right behind him. Hank senses he isn't alone. Starts to rotate his head, before scream! Smash cut to our very mismatched duo pushing through the substantial, outstretch of green 're following the crunch sounds. Further in, the louder it gets. They stop behind a thick bush. Mark & Patrick part it a little so they can see forwards. It's quite an unexpectedly grotesque display for them: a 20 foot plant monster, it's bodybuilder shaped physique comprised of black vines twined together. It's tiny head a squarish pumpkin, triangular eyes & nose included, long bull like horns made of blood red wood jut from the sides. Rather than empty sockets they're filled in with the same black material, center is small white, pupil less eyes. It's lips are the traditional jagged, jack-o'-lantern fangs but whenever they part open sharp, crocodile like teeth are exposed. What's this thing doing? Sitting on it's knees, feasting. It has Gus bifurcated cadaver halves in it's dark, ringed fingers, having already devoured the chubby boy's left arm & right leg it latches it's mouth onto his skull, cracking it, a cascading stream of blood staining the grassy terrain. Patrick whispers to Mark.
Patrick:"Uh, bruh. I'm-I'm… I mean, this a-ain't me having a ba-bad trip, right?"
Mark:"Back up quietly."
They start walking backwards but halt when Patrick accidentally steps on a twig, snapping it, alerting the pumpkin headed monstrosity, it drops Gus now headless carcass. Grins malevolently before speaking in a deep, guttural voice.
Pumpkin Beast:"Fresh… Meat…"
Fade to Hank being lifted up by Proto-Susan whose got him by the throat. She slams Hank against a large oak tree. Her hand turns dark green, digits extend, thicken, squeezing 'round his wrists & ankles, binding them together before Proto-Susan snaps them off her hand. Then she lengthens her arm, constricting it tightly 'round his abdomen, holding Hank in place. Hank thrashes about, panicking.
Hank:"Please! No! No! Lemme go! God! No! No!"
Starts caressing his shaking face with her fingertips, tilting head, grinning creepily. Think The Cheshire Cat as a killer model. Proto-Susan then begins speaking in a progressively deeper voice, it ultimately sounds downright demonic.
Proto-Susan:"Awww, dear Hank. Mmm. Our time together's end draws close. Bittersweet, I know, but such is life."
Hank:"Wh-what're yo-you gonna do t-to me?"
Proto-Susan:"Earlier you felt pleasure. So, I'm going to balance the scales."
Her skin shifts to completely green, the swimsuit ripped away to show a leaf covered stomach & chest, her hair falling off then replaced with round tipped, yellow pedals. Proto-Susan presents an open palm. It writhes, changing bright red, skin morphing into a coarse, steel wool like surface. Finger nails extend then sharpen into blades, which she implements to scissor cut Hank's shirt, shorts, underwear. Eventually he's left completely nude sans boots. Proto-Susan retracts nails then starts rubbing his skin, slowly. We hear Hank's flesh sizzle, bubble. Her rubbing leaves a trail of burning, oozing boils.
Hank:"ACCKKKKHHHHHH! FUUUUUCCKKKHHH!"
We see his bright red, agitated hide throb. She tenderly fondles his cheek via index finger.
Proto-Susan:"Awww, fever setting in? Let's remedy that."
Digits mush together, shifting into one, oversized scalpel. She starts cutting his skin off, slowed pace, making it last.
Hank:"ACCKKKKHHHHHH! NOOOOOOOOHHHH!"
Hank's scream echoes as we fade to black. Smash cut to Mark & Patrick hoofing it through a trail, the jack-o'-lantern faced horror hot on their tails, dragging it's knuckles like a gorilla, slobbering as it issues more anaconda like shrieks. NOTE: during this chase the guys drop their flashlights, creature crushing them underfoot. It'll make sense soon enough.
Marty:"Oh no… Oh no… Oh no…"
Patrick:"Can't… Ugh… Die yet… Still wanna… Try… Ugh… Crack…"
Path ahead is sidelined with several bushes, they race through. And that's when we see a certain, gargantuan greenhouse a few meters away. Lights are off, Illusion of abandonment. Mm hmm. Mark notices, points to it
Mark:"In there!"
Him & Patrick amp up the running, streaking towards the old timey, rusted nursery's front door, paying zero looks back. Reach it, open it, storm in, shutting it locked. Pumpkin beast stops, stands in place. Rotates head in time to watch Proto-Susan, coated in blood, casually sashay into frame right next to it. She places a hand on the statuesque, gourd headed abomination's arm. They both exchange nightmarishly fiendish grins. Greenhouse interior: it's mostly black, shades up, preventing all but a little morning light from seeping in. After catching their breath the lads walk forward, gazing at the shadowed outlines of trees on either side as they take their time strolling on the cobblestone floor. However, they aren't see a shapely silhouette in between two trees. Faint green eyes. It follows them. Patrick drops onto the floor, sighing as Mark stands there, cross armed, pondering, planning. Our skunky breathed gent lights up another joint. NOTE: brief instance he does this the bright, orange flame shines, thus we're offered a swift glimpse of Poison Ivy, leaning seductively against a tree right behind the boys. The stoner takes a deep inhale, snorting as he exhales, coughs.
Patrick:"Ahh, man. Hehehe. Nobody can say this wasn't earned today."
Takes another lengthy drag, smoke leaking from nostrils like a dragon.
Patrick:"So, what's phase 2 of the escape plan, big chief?"
Mark sighs, shakes head.
Mark:"I-I don't know. There's no way we can fight that thing. Until I can figure out how we can slip by seed for brains out there, it looks like we're trapped in this creepy old nursery."
Stoner shrugs.
Patrick:"Eh, I've been holed up in worse places."
Brief pan slide: silhouette raises right arm, aiming at Patrick.
Patrick:"Like that Chinese restaurant in Ottawa. Hehehe. Man, should've seen how rocket red the owner's face was when he finally busted through. Yanking me by the shi-"
Click sound, a small arrow hits Patrick square in the left shoulder.
Patrick:"SHHHIIIIIIITTTHHH!"
Mark helps him to his feet.
Mark:"What the hell?! You okay?"
Patrick grits teeth as he pries the bloodied arrow. NOTE: accidentally dropped joint, stomped it out
Patrick:"Ugh… Yeah. Arteries still be solid, bruh."
Mark looks around whilst using a torn piece of his shirt to bandage Patrick, pressing down to stop the bleeding.
Mark:"That garden grown freak must have friends. Stay close to me, listen for movement. All we can do."
Patrick:"Yeah, but what if w-"
Click, another arrow, this one grazes Mark's forearm.
Mark:"Ackh! Fuck! Whose there?! Why're you doing this?!"
Their eyes go buggy upon hearing demented, feminine laughter. It carries throughout the greenhouse, leaving them more uneased. Then footsteps. Somebody's circling them. Followed by a barrage of arrows. Some graze, others miss. Person is just toying with them.
Mark:"Run!"
Patrick:"Where, dude?!"
Pulls him by the arm.
Mark:"In back! Come on!"
Smash cut to them running, footsteps following, arrows dodged. Ultimately Mark & Patrick end up in a furnished, living space. The footsteps & arrows stop. Patrick, outta breath, sinks into a nearby loveseat whilst his amigo stands, eyes darting, anxious.
Patrick:"God… Ugh… Damn… It… This is the… Last trip I ever take."
Mark:"It stopped, whatever, *whoever* that was."
Patrick:"Then why ain't you sounding too relieved?"
Mark:"Because, I think it wanted us here. It-it herded us here."
Patrick:"Why?"
Mark:"Can't say. Probably nothing too fun. Something way, way worse than we can picture. And, given what lead up to this moment, I'd prefer not finding out how it's topped."
Patrick sighs, closes eyes, leans head back, hits a dangling tendril, pushes it away. Familiar squirming sound as it slowly starts to stir. Smash cut to Mark, looking forward, squinting his eyes into the far distance, can just barely discern a curvaceous figure in the shadows. Sudden scream startles him.
Patrick:"AHHHH!"
Turns around. Patrick's wrist is being constructed by the tendril.
Patrick:"Mark! Ackh! Help me! Please! Too tight!"
Mark:"Hang on, I'm com- ACKH!"
Gazes down, his own wrist caught. Toothed end snaps, wolf like growling. Quick shots of more tendrils speedily ensnaring their limbs, hoisting them a couple feet off the ground. We hear the same demented laughter from earlier. Mark scowls.
Mark:"Alright! I've had it! Show yourself!"
Immediately blinds automatically pull open, permitting daylight to flood the interior at last. Patrick stares up, stammering at the giant flytrap above them. Both are startled to hear a soft voice.
Poison Ivy:"My, my. Two young gentleman callers. What's a gal to do?"
Smash cut to a potted tree a couple feet from the lads. Ivy slinks out from behind, leaning seductively against it. Mark & Patrick's eyes bulge in terrified realization. She giggles.
Poison Ivy:"Welcome to my abode. Hope it's to your liking."
Sashays towards them, curvy hips rocking side to side. Walks behind Mark, rubbing shoulders, nuzzling his neck.
Poison Ivy:"Wasn't expecting anyone to drop in. A nice surprise."
Mark:"Wh-wha-wha-wh-"
Caresses his twitching lips.
Poison Ivy:"What am I going to do with you two?"
Nods, she giggles, playfully taps his nose.
Poison Ivy:"Why, finish our game, naturally."
Strolls over to her dresser, returns with two items: an emerald leaf makeup compact & a rusty hatchet.
Patrick:"Wh-what're those for?"
She giggles whilst walking back to Mark.
Poison Ivy:"You'll see."
Flips open compact, puckers lips. Blows a small cloud of pink haze straight at Mark's face. He smiles. Pupils momentarily dilate as his sclera turns purplish pink. He sighs. Pamela snaps her fingers, flytrap releases him. Wraps her arms around his neck, smirking coyly as Mark grins ear to ear, entranced.
Poison Ivy:"Mark, sweetheart, you love me right?"
Mark:"More than anything else in the world."
Kisses his cheek. Patrick stares, dumbfounded.
Poison Ivy:"You'd do whatever I asked?"
Takes her gloved hand, gentlemanly smooching the top.
Mark:"Of course. Name it, it's done."
Pecks his lips, he reciprocates. Caresses chin with her thumb.
Poison Ivy:"Then, my love, please…"
Hands him the hatchet.
Poison Ivy:"Kill your friend for me."
Curtsies.
Mark:"No problem."
Snaps fingers, Patrick is dropped. Mark, hatchet in hand, advances. A cold blooded, determined face.
Patrick:"D-dude! Please! This ain't right! Co-"
Eschews swing. Starts to run away only to be halted by hundreds of tendrils forming a wall. Isley snaps fingers, tendril descends behind, sits cross legged on it like a swing, smirking. Mark briefly smiles back at her. Blows him a kiss. Smash cut to Patrick up against the wall, trying in vain to claw it apart, zero effect. Turns around. Mark is standing right in front of him. Panics. Patrick gets on his knees, trembling, teary eyed.
Patrick:"Du-dude! Pl-please! We've been best friends si-since preschool! My mom u-used to pick us up from soccer prac-practice! Remember when w-we graffitied old man Sculoki's garage ga-gate?! Please! Ple-please! Fight it! Fight her! Come back t-to me, man!"
Ivy giggles.
Poison Ivy:"Afraid it's for not, hon. Mark, dear?"
Glowers contemptuously at Patrick.
Poison Ivy:"Do it."
Patrick covers his face.
Patrick:"NOOOOOOOOHHHH!"
Slide pan away just as Mark starts hacking. Zoom in on Pam's face, grinning very evilly. Cut to several minutes later, a blood soaked Mark, smiling joyfully, kneels before Ivy.
Mark:"Happy now?"
Hops off tendril then pulls up Mark by the chin before giving him a long, enthusiastic kiss.
Poison Ivy:"Mmmmmmmm…"
Releases, begins caressing his cheek.
Poison Ivy:"Very. Thank you."
He leans in for another smooch which Isley rebuffs, pushing him. Wags finger.
Poison Ivy:"Uh uh. Save it for later, handsome. Clean up first."
Smash cut to Mark, wearing an apron, gloves & hospital mask stacking Patrick, Hank, Gus & Marty's corpses into a wheel barrel. Passes by Pam, who ruffles his hair affectionately, patting butt too.
Poison Ivy:"Remember, jar everything after it's been sliced off."
We see him descend into the basement, bumping, struggling to prevent the dead bodies from sliding. Proto-Susan is on the loveseat, filing her nails. Pumpkin Beast lumbers in, dragging the guys tents, free hand holding their backpacks. Trips up, water bottle launches out, striking Proto-Susan on the nose.
Proto-Susan:"Ackh!"
Snarls. Extends arm into a whip then smacks the man-eater on the nose, it whines like a dog.
Proto-Susan:"Watch it, you klutzy dumbass!"
It glares at her, shrieking loudly. She hisses right back.
Pumpkin Beast:"You."
Palms fist.
Pumpkin Beast:"Smashed."
Splays her fingers, turning them bladed.
Proto-Susan:"Bring it! I'll shred you to pie fillings!"
Just before they can collide Isley snaps her fingers. Tendrils entwine the feuding monsters, holding them.
Poison Ivy:"Children, play nice. Mommy'd hate to discipline you."
They both huff, sigh, nod. Snaps fingers, releases them.
Poison Ivy:"Now, help me sort."
She bends down to a backpack labeled MARK in red stitches. Reaches in, pulling out a Dragonheart promotional t-shirt. Smash cut to Pamela sitting on her recliner, out of costume. Now she's wearing a black, transparent nightgown, barefoot, her hair tied into a flat bun. It's night time, radio is playing her favourite tune Plant Muzak on a loop. She's reading a book titled:"Foster Forest by Anton Arcane" whilst sipping on a cup of herbal tea. We hear creaking, footsteps. It's Mark, clothes strained with dry blood, who walks over then kneels next to Isley. She smiles.
Pamela Isley:"Finished?"
He nods, removing hospital mask.
Mark:"They've been cut, jarred & locked up per your instructions."
She rubs his head as if he were a pet.
Pamela Isley:"Good. Thank you, darling."
Shakily inches his hand towards her leg, Pam slaps it.
Mark:"Bu-but you said…"
Taps his nose.
Pamela Isley:"I said clean up first. That includes you."
Mark stares at his filthy clothes. Smash cut to our lovesick zombie sitting down onto the loveseat, a towel draping his shoulder. He's now wearing a grey tank top & dark blue shorts. We see Pamela gliding from the kitchenette, holding two wine glasses & a bottle of red wine. Daintly sits next to her eager slave. Pours their drinks.
Mark:"Where's your other helpers?"
Hands him a glass.
Pamela Isley:"Foraging for moss."
Gives him a quick peck on the mouth.
Pamela Isley:"I wanted us to be alone."
He smirks.
Mark:"Hehe. I'll drink to that!"
They toast then start imbibing. She begins tracing his chest.
Pamela Isley:"So, why camping, hmm?"
Mark:"Childhood past time we never outgrew. Since college we rarely had time for it. I-I wanted this trip to be special since Gus was about to transfer to a different school and we weren't going to see him much anymore."
Caresses his cheek with the back of her hand.
Pamela Isley:"That's a sweet sentiment."
Lowers head, sorrowful.
Mark:"It's my fault we ended up lost. I'm such a screw up."
Kisses his cheek, fondles chin with her index finger.
Pamela Isley:"Don't beat yourself up too much, honey. Could've happened to anyone. Sadly, wrong time, wrong place. Be comforted in knowing their sacrifice benefits my work."
Mark looks up at her. His sclera is beginning to turn blue. Teary eyed.
Mark:"But, what am I gonna tell my folks? Or Marty's? Or Patrick's? All my friends are dead because of me. I don't deserve to live. I-I-"
She shushes his lips with her finger.
Pamela Isley:"Easy, babydoll."
Picks up compact from the table, blows more pheromones at him. Mark chuckles dumbly, grinning like a lovesick teenager. Sclera pink again. Isley rubs his cheek with the back of her hand.
Pamela Isley:"There. Better?"
He nods, tilting head, sighs. Pam resumes tracing his chest.
Pamela Isley:"Good. Now, tell me, do you have a girlfriend back home?"
Mark nods.
Mark:"Yeah. Her name's Courtney. We met last Spring Break."
They share a quick, affectionate peck.
Pamela Isley:"Is she prettier than me?"
He kisses the top of her hand.
Mark:"Nobody is."
Isley giggles, pulls him in for a deeper kiss which Mark returns.
Pamela Isley:"Mmmmmmmm…. Mmmmm…"
Releases with a loud, wet smack.
Pamela Isley:"M'wah! Best answer."
He sighs.
Mark:"This trip was so awesome, because…"
Smiles warmly at her, kisses her neck, Isley moans then starts panting like a dog in heat.
Mark:"Meeting you made it worthwhile."
Pulls her into his lap, Isley grins, giggles. Snakes her arms around his neck, Mark in turn around her voluptuous waistline. They French intensely. Pamela pinballs her tongue, up, down, left, right, stopping each time to caterpillar slink it along. Sucks on his top lip, biting it then stops. Slides hand downard, pulls up his hard blush coloured, organic cum pipe. Gives it a squeeze, then fondles the shaft tenderly.
Pamela Isley:"Oooh! This was building for awhile, huh?"
Rubs the cock tip with her index finger, Mark moans.
Mark:"Y-yes! I thought I'd go in-insane! Ugh!"
She giggles whilst persisting in the phallic hand massage. Brushes the tip against her moist, warm pussy flaps.
Pamela Isley:"Aching to enter this goddess temple?"
He groans, eyes closed.
Mark:"Y-yes! Yes! Yes! G-goddess yes!"
Squeezes prick, stern tone of voice ala dominatrix.
Pamela Isley:"Who do you worship?! Whose your divine mistress?!"
Mark:"YOU ARE! NO ONE ELSE! ONLY YOU FOREVER!"
Smirks, voice resumes Pam's usual, sultry tone.
Pamela Isley:"Good boy."
Undoes her bun, auburn locks wave around.
Pamela Isley:"Hang onto the loveseat. I'm a rough rider."
Slides the twitching knob scepter into her tight, hot, creamy hole. Isley blushes, closes her eyes, bites her bottom lip, shivering, moans.
Pamela Isley:"Oh, god. Fuck! I can't refuse young dick! Ahh! So good!"
Mark closes his eyes, tilts head back, moaning as well.
Mark:"I'm i-in heaven, my goddess! Thank you! Ugh! Fuck! Thank you!"
Pam pushes up her legs so she can start vag bobbing on his warm scrot. Sigh when near the sky, groan when near the ground. I can't rhyme very well. Sue me. She jackhammers his pole with mounting, carnal fury. More sweat, more moans, louder, faster, louder, faster. On & him her womb feels like the softest, warmest vice. In-between rod grinding Isley gives him quick tongue kisses. Mark in turn is preoccupied with her soft, full fair skinned ta tas. Such impeccably formed torso wigglers. Like two, small moons made of smooth, Irish descended skin. Her perfect, rosy nipples are gently licked, furiously chewed on over & over & over. This persists for 3 full hours until finally…
Mark:"Ugh! Pam! I-I'm about to! A-about to!"
Pamela Isley:"Me too! Let's! Ugh! Do it! T-toghter!"
Eyes shut, faces parrot red, heads skyward, they scream as Mark's unclothed third leg explodes within Pam's belly.
Both (unison):"FUUUUUCCKKKHHH!"
We see a thick, white stream leak from Isley as she dismounts. The lovers lay on the couch, panting like they swam The Nile. Pamela pats Mark's shoulder as he smooches her cheek.
Pamela Isley:"Th-thank you. Phew! You were phenomenal."
Smash cut to Pam waking up with Mark's sleeping form wrapped around her abdomen. She carefully extracts him. Isley daintly rises up, sashaying towards her nightstand. Picks up a black lipstick tube with a skull & crossbones. Footsteps from behind, Mark walks up to Pamela, pressing into her back, arms around her waist, nuzzling her soft shoulders. She smiles.
Mark:"Oh, mistress. I'd love nothing more than to continue."
Rotates, cups his chin, stroking it with her index & thumb.
Pamela Isley:"A tempting thought, if we weren't finished."
Snaps fingers. Tendrils descend, seizing Mark pulling him to underneath the giant flytrap. Isley rests her hands on his beating chest.
Mark:"I-I don't understand. Did I fail you somehow?"
She fondles his cheek with the back of her hand.
Pamela Isley:"Very much the opposite. You were everything I wanted at that moment, but not now."
Gives his forehead a loving kiss.
Pamela Isley:"Don't pout. We had fun. I won't forget."
Twists open tube, revealing it's dark pink shade. Isley applies it before grasping Mark's face in her hands, leaning in, bedroom eyed, rubbing noses.
Pamela Isley:"Care to give this lady…"
Brief zoom in of their lips, inches apart.
Pamela Isley (breathless):"A kiss goodbye?"
She smashes their lips together, clamping down hard on Mark's mouth, smooching him passionately. Though taken aback at first the brainwashed lad returns the kiss with equal fervor. This lasts 4 minutes. In that time Pam's passion doesn't ebb, but Mark's does. Slower movement until he stops moving period. Isley bites his top lip, inhaling his final breath through her nose as her body quakes from the onslaught of a second, smaller orgasm. Detaches from Mark, his head drops. Eyes blank, skin ghostly white. No more. Snaps fingers. Flytrap pulls the sagging carcass towards it's drooling maw then swallows it whole. Going torpid to digest. Pamela yawns, stretches then drops face first onto her aloe leaf bed, instantly asleep. Fade to black. Fade back in. We see Isley cross legged in her recliner. She's now wearing a green tank top, red pencil skirt, brown sandals, with a ponytail. She has a mannequin in front of her, it's wearing the replica Bat suit, which is sans boots, utility belt & gloves. Getting close. It's the morning after, she's drinking hot tea. Crash sound! Pumpkin Beast comes stomping into view carrying a certain, feisty jester babe whose kicking, punching, clawing in every direction. Pamela smiles, quietly laughs.
Harley Quinn:"Put me down, ya Halloween Town reject!"
Pamela Isley:"It's fine, she's a friend."
Drops Quinn onto her buttocks then lumbers off. Blows it a raspberry before cartwheeling up to Isley, hugging her.
Harley Quinn:"Hiya Red! Enjoy another night loose from the quack palace?"
She shrugs.
Pamela Isley:"More or less."
Harley sniffs her hair, grins sinisterly.
Harley Quinn:"I'ma say you're way the former. Invite anotha buncha college aged studs in?"
Pamela Isley:"Two. One was a nasty pothead. Smelt like a skunk breeding center lit aflame. That said, I was more offended by the peace symbol headband. Ugh. Hippies. Worthless. Second one though was cute. Magic dusted him into butchering that chatty stink pile then had him butcher my insides."
Quinn clasps her shoulders, shaking them as they both laugh.
Harley Quinn:"Hahahahahaha! Oh jeez, you & young cock."
Somersaults outta sight momentarily, returning with a shopping cart filled with many, many items. Including, but not limited to: Two waterproof security cameras. A pile of classic torch song CDs. Fresh fruit, vegetables & yogurt. A large spool of black thread. And a portable DVD player. Harley reaches into her cap, producing a video disk with the words: "BatmanVPenguinBridgeHostages" scribbled on it in blue Sharpie ink. Hands it to Pamela.
Harley Quinn:"Had to sneak in the backroom for that. Hehe. Gleeson caught me snoopin' so y'know what I did? Clocked that prissy news bimbo in de jaw & booked it! Hahaha!"
Rubs Quinn's arm appreciatively.
Pamela Isley:"Thank you. Every bit helps."
Quinn spies the mannequin, tapping the Bat emblem.
Harley Quinn:"What's all this fer anyways? Dis guy a big voodoo doll?"
She smirks maliciously, caressing her lips. Inside Pamela's mind: audio snippets of Pretty Poison's climax, "sealed with a kiss" standing out the most.
Pamela Isley:"Something special for September."
**THE END.**
