Whoa! I just saw the Ring. Well, not the ring that they talk about in the movie, the Ring, but the movie the Ring itself. Damn that was creepy. Really Creepy. And so was that big fat blubbering bitch on my right who wouldn't shut the fuck up about how the ring was going to get her. Not the movie the Ring but the ring in the movie. Get me?
It goes a little something like this. There's this video tape with images from what looks like somebody's nightmare on it. Horse eyeballs, centipedes, a scary woman brushing their hair in a mirror (the woman is in the mirror, she's not just looking into one), ladders (trust me, after this movie you will have nightmares about ladders too), flies, and of course the ring. Whenever somebody watches this videotape they immediately get a phone call telling them that they will die in seven days. Then they do. But only after they see "the ring". Personally, that right there would be enough to scare the shit out of me if I was in that movie, and one time I almost was. I was digging through a bunch of tapes at the Wolfman's place when I found a blank one. I was bored like always, so I put it in the VCR and watched the most macabre masterpiece of messed up malevolence I had ever witnessed in my entire life!
First there were strange shots of people sitting and staring at decapitated chicken heads around a campfire. Then the camera turned to some guy in a Zorro mask and cape (and nothing else) sodomizing a cow. There was a quick cut to a candle dripping wax on somebody's ass, and then there were scenes of lots of insects (mostly maggots) getting eaten and then regurgitated by some unlucky freak. After the scene of the monkey having sex with the poodle (that lasted a loooooong 30 minutes), the tape abruptly ended with Ed Asner flicking off the camera and then giving it a good punch with some brass knuckles.
Right after the tape was over the phone rang! I waited ten rings and then I slowly picked up the receiver only to hear a low voice on the other end tell me that I was going to die in seven minutes!! I asked, "Why 7 minutes?" and the voice told me that it was because it would take him seven minutes to find an ax, break in the door and carve my face open like a dozen turkey's in Oprah's house on Thanksgiving Day. It was then that I realized that it was the Wolfman on the other line and that he was watching me go through his private cult tapes from the window after I locked him outside of the house and told him that his house was now mine by decree of the Royal Queen Victoria III of Rossman Land. Ironically enough it took the wolfman only 5 minutes to break into his place, but I snuck out the front door and made it to my car in only 2 and a half, so that prophecy at least never came true.
(Note from the Rossman: Kuni's not really dead, and he never even saw the movie. I just told him that he would die in seven days so that he could be the placebo in my "The Ring- Home Experiment" Dr. Dave and I are trying to perform.)
Science. Gotta love it. Hell, I'm not even sure if I'm really even a medical doctor, but I still love to perform experiments on people and things. Mostly dead things. And those dead things being mostly people. You get the idea.
Anyway, right after watching this movie the Rossman came up with an idea to see if it truly was possible for people to die of fright. He would first test a couple of pussies that he knew by simply telling them that they were going to die in a week. Kuni fainted and still believes that he really died even after he was revived. Carl punched the Rossman in the nose and threw him off of a cliff again. And Angry Amy dumped a pot of 350-degree coffee on his lap... though honestly I don't think he ever got to perform the experiment on her. That was just her typical Monday morning ritual before she goes to smoke a pack of Marlboro's in the Rossman's office in the hope of giving him the cancer (she says that it'll be worth it if she gets some juicy lung tumors too just knowing that the Rossman suffers more than a Metallica fan stapled to the stage during a Cher concert because of her efforts).
Then we tried the actual experiment to find out about the fatalness of human fear. First we left a VHS tape (of the Rossman taking the loudest and messiest dump I've ever had the displeasure of witnessing) out for some poor schmuck to find. We left it in the bathroom at the Sea Wench Pub and watched the unlucky Chi-Chi pick it up and stuff it down his pants. We then followed him home as he ran faster than we possibly could while loaded down with all the dead animals and bags of eggs that we could carry... I just like to travel with my babies whenever possible, that's all.
So, we got to Chi-Chi's place and we were able to peek in through his window just in time to witness him witnessing the Rossman clutching the seat and kicking his legs in the air in triumphant craptitude on the TV screen. Just when the tape went black, we called Chichi up on the Rossman's portable telephone and told him "In seven days you will DIE!" But all we could hear from the other end was some throaty retching sounds. We thought that we had succeeded and that Chichi was dead from fear! We were very excited about proving our theory correct without even using the flame-thrower or the pound of back-bacon grease we were convinced we would need. But in the end it just turned out that Chichi was puking his innards out after sitting down with a bunch of microwaveable burritos for what he thought was going to be an evening of "lucky found porn" or something. Honestly, I don't know what (if anything) this proves, but this mess is all for the best considering I don't know how to write up a paper for the New England Journal of Medicinal Garbage and shit anyway. Fuck 'em.