American Monsters (14 page)

The camera focuses on Mr. Motel Chain’s security screen and goes through it, emerging on the other side where Lily trips with her friends. The two Security Guards walk up.

Guard #5:

Miss, excuse me, Miss, the one dressed as a cyclops. We need you to come with us.

NRG:

Can you please tell us what this is about?

Guard #6:

It’s classified, Miss. Step aside and let me take the girl.

Skreem:

Fuck you. She’s not going anywhere without us. All of us.

Security Guard #6 sees the futility in taking on all of these pissed off women. He steps aside and gets out his walkie-talkie.

Guard #6:

Jim, yeah, I need back-up.

Jim, over the walkie-talkie:

Okay, how many?

Guard #6:

Send all of them.

Jim:

10-4 on that.

Guard #6, clicking off his phone:

Wait here. They’re coming to get you, Barbaras.

In a minute the rest of the Security Guards show up, in a pack like before, all slobbery and oozy. Giggling hysterically. The women are all roughly herded up the stairs to Mr. Motel Chain’s tower.

There are always more Hyena Men.

Every so often, a Guard grabs NRG’s ass or Saline’s boobs, and ends up full of silver shards, or has his hand ruined by the tentacles ejaculated from Saline’s implants.

Secrete spits on one of them and burns his face.

Chamelia’s tail trips one down the stairs.

Uteri knocks a bunch out with her fierce smell.

Glamour slices a few with her acrylic nails, and the Security Guards don’t reassemble afterwards.

Chaos threatens a few of the men with castration, scaring off a good number in her low-maintenance way.

The Firebirds fireball a few.

Lily pushes one up against the wall and stones him.

Skreem yells inside one guard's head, and almost knocks herself out as well.

Trip bites one on the ankle and another on the arm. They run away, whimpering.

But somehow, there are always more. They keep appearing — or reappearing.

The camera follows the horde up the winding stairway to Mr. Motel Chain’s tower. It’s like Sleeping Beauty, well, except for the Hyena Men, that is. They arrive at his door, marked with a five pointed star and a mess of symbols. Skulls, books, random scribbles. They are shoved rudely inside the tower chamber. Some are thrown to the floor at his feet.

Mr. Motel Chain, cloaked and masked:

Where is she? Where is she... There, grab that one! Bring her to me.

Lily:

NO!

Mr. Motel Chain:

You are the chosen one, look there to the painting.

He points to the oils on the wall ― a pyramid, with one eye in its point.

Mr. Motel Chain:

It is you. You are the power source. You will perform the ritual.

The wall that was the painting slides away and another small chamber emerges. It is a device similar to an iron m
aiden, wherein the person is placed and her blood is drained. Mr. Motel Chain reminds everyone of Darth Vader with his archaic manner of speech, and his voice muffled by the mask.

Mr. Motel Chain:

You will perform the ritual. Your blood belongs to me, girl. You are mine. Tie them up. They can watch the sacrifice. We will get your power from your blood, and then, the world is mine.

Uteri, Dentata, Wake, Barren, Saline, Dioxin, Console, Trip, Skreem, Lily, Chamelia, NRG, Secrete, Glamour, Chaos, Galactic Canary, Cherry Thrush, and Cerulean Amazon:

No! Fuck off! Get your hands off me, asshole. Stop!

Mr. Motel Chain’s henchmen snatch Lily and begin strapping her into the device. One by one the girls are pinned and it seems as if all hope is lost.

Mr. Motel 6 begins closing the lid, and in that moment, all of the women burst out the energies they had stored. They concentrate and focus, and one by one the air around them begins to glow.

The men around Uteri drop to the floor.

Saline crushes a few with her breastacles.

Trip goes for the jugulars.

NRG is carefully spraying metal pins.

Chamelia tosses a few from the windows — no more of that tongue-killing stuff for her.

Out of the blue, Dioxin implodes from the tampon she was wearing, the toxins and the hallucinogenic substances too much poison for her system, causing it to overheat and spontaneously combust. A couple of guards go with her.

The Firebirds work as a tag team and fire men back down the stairs.

Glamour and Chaos use their kickboxing classes, and their nails.

In the chaos, Dentata, Barren, and Skreem run over to Lily and punch-kick out the Security Guards. They unstrap Lily and pull her out of the grotesque contraption.

Lily:

It’s him! Get him!

Wake has been curled in the corner of the room. She is trying to focus her energies on her pelvis. She can spontaneously detach and regenerate her vagina, and when she does it grows into a huge blob capable of devouring everything in its path. She hasn’t had to protect herself in a while — things have been cool up until tonight — but this certainly calls for regeneration. Wake focuses on Mr. Motel Chain. He is waiting for his dirty work to be done for him. Her monstrous birth is prepared, and easily slips out of her body. It slithers its wayover to him. It attaches to his foot and begins devouring him. The pink bubbly ooze spreads over his legs and up his thighs, past his stomach up his chest and finally, his head. He screams and tries to get it off, but it’s too fast and too late. In a moment, Mr. Motel Chain is covered with the blob, suffocating. Eventually the pink blob dissolves into nothing but a pool of water.

The women look around, stunned and shaken, yet generally okay. The Security Guards back off now that their leader is gone.

Galactic Canary:

What the fuck is going on?! He was going to kill you, dude! What?

Uteri:

It’s okay, it’s over, I hope. He’s gone, what are they going to do now, you know?

NRG:

I guess, but...this is just so strange. What a night, huh? Midnight madness, must be.

Cherry Thrush:

We’re in the middle of the most powerful witching hour of the year. Plus it’s a full moon. What else do you need to know?

Chaos:

You ladies are something else.

Dentata:

I’ll say!

Trip:

Hey, what time is it? Do you think we could still see DJ Fetish? Let’s go, let’s go! We might still be able to see him open!

The women rush back downstairs out of Mr. Motel Chain’s tower, oddly unfazed by the recent occurrences, and begin discussing the various events that caused their unique powers. They are all still rolling and tripping, you must remember. Everything is heightened — their powers, their sense of themselves and each other. It’s perfect, in a way. What is it they say in Casablanca? “This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.” Groups of them hold hands on their return to the party. The camera follows in front as they walk into the foyer, now several paintings short.

Kaleanathi’s time is now. The sky is beginning to open up over the Motel Chain Mansion. The sky glows an iridescent purple, and bits of the roof begin flying into the maelstrom above. The sacrifice for the corruption is now complete. The Mansion emits an unearthly orange glow.

Katie Hernandez:

This is Katie Hernandez, Channel 5 News. We have an emergency weather alert: There is an extremely high level of fog in the Hollywood Hills. Visibility is about two feet. Get off the freeways, stay off the roads, pull over until further notice. It is not safe to drive.

In the bowels of The Motel Chain Mansion, a group of Stoners have wandered into a cave that seems to go through the center of the earth. It was an accident that they found the cave. It was well hidden, and you have to go through a carnival funhouse first. The group don’t even know how lucky they were to get out of that particular funhouse when they did — the monster was right behind them. They’ve been following this path for ages, and it hasn’t brought them to anywhere yet.

Stoner #1:

We’re going down pretty far. I heard that in caves like this if you get down far enough and spend long enough in the dark, if someone were to even spark their lighter for a joint...

Stoner giggles all around.

Stoner #1:

 
...we would all go blind, man.

Stoner #2:

For real?

Stoner #1:

I swear, dude. My friend lives down by the Carlsbad Caves, by San Diego. They tour guide tells them that before they go down into them.

Stoner #3:

Has anyone ever done it? I mean, how do they know for sure that’s true?

Stoner #1:

I would hope no one is stupid enough to risk everyone’s sight to find out.

Stoner #2:

Let’s just walk for a bit longer. This is pretty chill.

Stoner #4:

Peace.

DJ Fetish begins his set a few minutes late. Doesn’t really matter when he starts, it’s all going to end the same way. He begins his first record, and recalls when he first began spinning. He loved this scene so much. He believed in it. Peace, love, unity, respect. That is not the vibe he’s been getting lately. Money, money, drugs, money. That’s all it’s about now. It’s time for it to end. He puts the needle to the record, and the first strains pierce the ears of the listeners.

The large group of victorious women arrives at the dance area just as people begin acting really weird. A few dancers buckle over, some begin convulsing, some start shouting gross profanities. Soon, everyone is screaming. Bodies fall to the ground, wracked by wave after wave of seizures.

NRG:

What the hell is going on?

The camera pulls back from the dance floor and shows the Mansion — the entire roof sucked to the sky — with DJ Fetish’s music playing all throughout the hill. Bodies convulse like fish out of water. The ones that remain unaffected scream and run, covering their ears.

Chaos:

It’s the music! Get that asshole!

The women charge the DJ platform. Simultaneously they all throw their powers at DJ fetish. Poison spit, fireballs, screams, knives, strong potent odors... He crumples down.

Console and Trip try to figure out how to turn the music off. They find the “off” button and press it, but the music has been hardwired into the sound system and can’t be directly accessed from DJ fetish’s turntables.

Trip, shouting over the music:

The speakers! We have to do something about the speakers! Dismantle them or something!

Console, yelling back:

No good, it’s wired into the whole house!

An exhausted Wake manages another, smaller, regeneration and dissolves the speakers surrounding the DJ platform.

Galactic Canary, to the other Firebirds:

The speakers, they’re everywhere! Let’s fire some down.

The Firebirds try to burn some of the ones up in the trees. Most of them fall, but the house is so big... The sea of corpses gets deeper and deeper.