Alright guys, shit’s getting bad. Real bad. But let’s get a couple things straight in these couple minutes that we bought by pushing a piece of plywood furniture in front of a hollow core door.
Okay, you, Blondie. Your boyfriend is dead. I know, it’s really bad. We’ve all had people die in our lives. Granted, most of us didn’t see them ground to pieces by a man using twin screwdrivers. I’ll give you that much. You’re clearly distraught, and I’m totally with you on that one. Which is why the only thing I’m asking of you is that you keep your head down and stop interrupting our process of running away here. Seriously. Stop grabbing the gun from other people and firing it wildly into the air while screaming your dead boyfriend’s name. Stop putting your hand over your mouth and crying and pounding on stuff until we have to physically carry you away. I’m not asking you to contribute in any way. Let’s just shoot for not making it worse.
Which brings us to you, Nerdo. There was a time when your somewhat unbelievable and esoteric knowledge was a big help. Like before this monster actually showed up. Or maybe shortly after he showed up but before some fool said magic words or gave him a soul or did whatever he did to activate this guy. This is no longer that time. Adding stuff about how we could kill him if we only had the magic talisman -which we all saw go flying out the fucking car window hours ago- only makes this worse. I get it, we fucked up. Now’s not really the time. So if you could figure out some other way to be a little more productive, I think that you might find yourself clicking better with this group.
Finally,capable hunter lady. You’re the only one who seems to know how to fire the gun. For whatever reason, the monster doesn’t seem to be able to kill you. This is pretty great news. However, I’m going to demand right now that you stop running into every building and darkened garage and everywhere else FIRST. You let someone else go first. And when we have to do some dangerous shit for some reason, STOP AND CALL ONE OF US OVER. Seriously, you’re the only one of us who can shoot, drive the stickshift and get us out of here, and generally function. Stop fucking around. Also, sorry you wore such a revealing tank top today. Probably would have been a better day for something less revealing, what with the knife fighting and crawling in tunnels.
Alright gang, let’s do this.