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Oh-ho! Actually venturing out of the Disney and Anime territory and doing something infamous and trendy? Either I’m maturing or becoming more of an Internet panderer…

HOW THE WICKER MAN (REMAKE) SHOULD HAVE ENDED

(Open on a scene of all the cultists gathered around in a meeting of sorts.)

CULTIST A: Our newly-designated human sacrifice is on our way to the island as we speak.

SUMMERSISLE: Excellent. Now, everyone…remember your tasks when he gets here, yes?”

CULTIST B: Right. Everyone give him vague, cryptic, somewhat sinister answers that really don’t answer any questions.

SUMMERSISLE: And if he keeps asking?

CULTIST C: Just keep doing it until he gives up and goes away!

SUMMERSISLE: That’s right! But what important part are you forgetting?

CULTIST C: Oh yeah! Occasional slips, like transitioning tenses between saying someone “will be burned” and “was burned”.

SUMMERSISLE: Now, we all set up everything beforehand, right? Let’s go over the checklist… Everyone has their “Bioshock Splicer Masks”, right?

(Everyone holds one up.)

SUMMERSISLE: Check. Someone buried that doll where the fake girl we’re using to lure him here is, right?

CULTIST D: Uh…I had it too close to the stove and…it got burned before I buried it…

SUMMERSISLE: (Pauses a moment) …Ok, we’ll work with it. Just if he repeatedly asks how it got burned don’t say anything. It’ll make it seem more creepy to not explain it than to say it was held too close to an oven. Sister Rose, you changed the rubric for this week, right?

ROSE: Absolutely. Instead of doing the times tables, we’ve rearranged the schedule to talk in “Zardoz-like” terms about how men are evil. That was originally for the Spring curricula, but I needed the time to get them ready for standardized tests anyway…

SUMMERSISLE: And I’ve got a healthy supply of epipens to ensure I revive him after he’s stung by bees the first time so that he can die the second time when we’re actually sacrificing him.

CULTIST E: Uh, Sister Summersisle? If the bees we raise are aggressive enough to attack on sight, how come none of us ever get stung?

ROSE: I’ve told you a thousand times; they’re trained only to attack phallic objects.

SUMMERSISLE: Moving on… Bicycles, check… Bear costume, check… Map to lead sacrificial victim away from sight of fake bonfire to real sacrificial site memorized by decoy girl, check… Um, I noticed our “wicker man” is showing from the window of the inn.

CULTIST F: Well, maybe if you didn’t want it built so damn big…

SUMMERSISLE: Did we select one of the males yet to be the bloody, writhing body in the bag?

CULTIST G: I’m still trying to decide which one looks the tastiest.

CULTIST H: Wait…we’re cannibals too?

CULTIST G: (Shrugs) Why not?

SUMMERSISLE: Focus, people! Everyone knows what their assignments are to be in the “House of Disturbing Imagery” too, right?

CULTIST I: I get to wear nothing but bees!

CULTIST J: You always get to wear nothing but bees! When’s it going to be my turn?

SUMMERSISLE: I think that about covers it. Any questions?

CULTIST K: Yeah. Who sets up the fake body in the water?

(Everyone looks puzzled.)

SUMMERSISLE: …Come again?

CULTIST K: Yeah…I mean…did we set up that girl back on the road that drove him nuts years ago? Was that us? Or was it just some psychotic girl that wanted to burn to death?

(Everyone thinks for a moment, looking to each other with puzzlement and shrugs.)

SUMMERSISLE: Probably not best to think about it too hard. After all, we are psychotic cultists so we should never think too hard about anything we do here or we’ll never hear the end of it. Any other questions?

CULTIST L: Um, yes actually. The only thing necessary for the human sacrifice is that he comes here willingly, right?

SUMMERSISLE: Correct.

CULTIST L: …So why don’t we just kill him as soon as he gets here and avoid all of this trouble? Aside from pointlessly tormenting the sacrifice for no reason, it’s a lot of work. I’m sure even ancient cultures didn’t tease the cattle before they slaughtered them in sacrifice.

(Summersisle looks serious and rises.)

SUMMERSISLE: I’ll tell you why. We’re going to do all this because we will live up to the vision of our great maker: Neil LaBute…who will not rest, who will not sleep for an instant, before he brings the message to the masses that all women are the spawn of Satan. That ever since Eve offered Adam a taste of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, women have done absolutely nothing but looked for ways to seduce, terrorize, and destroy the male gender…and that is EXACTLY why it is perfectly acceptable to punch women in the face, occasionally while wearing bear suits, scream at them frantically, steal their bikes at gunpoint, and even make a game out of being as sadistic and cruel to women as possible just for deranged joy and actually be rewarded for it! Now let’s go out there and make as many men as possible want to subjugate, mistreat, and kill us on sight!

(Round of cheers)

(10 Hours Later)

(Gunshot-wounded cultist limps up to Summersisle)

CULTIST A: Er…bad news, Sister Summersisle. The human sacrifice caught onto us, ran back to the ferry, shooting and killing as many as he could because we didn’t have a chance to remove the bullets, and then hijacked it and went back to the mainland.

SUMMERSISLE: What?! How could he have freaked out enough to do that? He didn’t care about our vague answers, our creepy looks, our mute men carrying around bloody sacks, our obsession with bees, or anything else practically screaming at him: “YOU ARE GOING TO DIE HERE”! What could have possibly pushed him over the edge?

(The cultist grimaces as she points to Leelee Sobieski.)

CULTIST A: He took one look at her.

(Summersisle looks, and then groans and facepalms.)

SUMMERSISLE: Damn it all, she was supposed to stay indoors until this was over! Seeing that woman in a movie is like looking at Freddy Kruger with a chainsaw riding a xenomorph…

The End

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