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October 10 2001 at 9:22 AM
Harbinger of Death 

The retired chancellors’ mansion was dark and quiet. It looked as though no one were home. However, everyone was indeed there; they were simply watching a movie in the dark.

“Pass the popcorn.” Nanaea’s eyes were transfixed on the television and she held her hand out.

“Don’t eat it all. We’re almost out of popcorn oil.” Astraea handed the bowl over, without looking anywhere but the small screen.

“This movie is so weird, but I can’t look away.” Hebea also seemed hypnotized by the movie.

“It’s not fair,” said Lady Pegasus. “They’ve got all kinds of female frontal nudity, but none for the guys.” She motioned to her assistants, Kimba and Lonesome Dove. “We need some more soda.”

Lonesome Dove rolled her eyes and headed for the kitchen. Kimba followed.

“What’s the name of this movie again?” Dove asked.

“Eyes Wide Shut.”

“Oh yeah. Really bad flick, if you ask me.”

“I agree. They just like Tom Cruise too much to turn it off.” The two girls jumped as they heard a loud noise from the living room.

“What was that?” Dove asked, frightened.

“I don’t know. Should we check it out or should we run for help?”

“Well, let’s think about this. In the movies, they always check it out, and suffer the same fate as the original victim. If we run for it now, we might make it out alive.”

“It could just be an accident of some kind,” Kimba pointed out.

“But if it isn’t, we’ll be walking into trouble.”

“Plus, if it isn’t, and if they manage to escape, we’ll be flogged to death for having abandoned them.”

“Hm, good point. So the question is, what do we fear more: A gruesome death, or the former chancellors’ wrath?”

They paused a moment in thought. “We’re going back in,” they said simultaneously, and ventured back into the living room, slowly and carefully, wielding butcher knives. There were the four retired chancellors, strapped to their chairs, tape over their mouths.

“MMmmgrff!!!” they all said (or tried to say) to LP’s assistants, who looked around frantically to find the aggressor. Then they too were grabbed, and shortly became similar captives.

The Harbinger of Death stood before them, and inserted a tape into the VCR. Their eyes widened as an image appeared on the screen. No…it couldn’t be…it was! A Pauly Shore Marathon! How could even he be so cruel?

The cloaked figure waved the remote control in the air. “Why, what’s this?” he said. “I have the remote! Imagine that.” He dropped it on the ground. “Oops.” Then he crushed it with his scythe staff. “Oh dear, clumsy me.” He shrugged. “I guess you’ll just have to watch this for a while.” With a sinister laugh and a swoop of his robe, he was gone.

His victims writhed in agony, whimpering helplessly. In the morning they were found there, stiff and cold. It wasn’t hard to see what had happened: They’d been annoyed to death. Six more souls joined the party of the dead.
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