‘Ok, here’s the plan,’ you say, ‘I’m going to pretend to be a messenger for Erich von Straussheim, their leader, and they’ll no doubt listen to me. Then we can just lead them to the authorities.’
And just like that, you fetch a flowing robe with a hood, a fake beard, and platform shoes to make you all the more menacing. In your full regalia, even Twin #2 – a cynic at heart – can’t help but gasp.
‘You are Erich von Straussheim,’ he mutters, wiping away a tear.
But the Woman of a Certain Age is straight to action. ‘Alright, you go ahead, and we’ll wait in the wings for the right time – ’
‘Ajax! Ajax, what’s taking so long!’ Achitophel cries angrily from off-stage. Everyone peers out from behind the wings to see her stomping about. ‘Ajax, c’mon, we haven’t got all night!’
‘Neither do we,’ Twin #1 observes wryly, pushing you out of the wings for good measure. ‘Go get ‘em, tiger.’
Did he really just say that? you think. But there’s no time to dwell on it: straightening yourself up (it’s been some time since you wore platform shoes), you make your way to center-stage, calling out (in your best Sixteenth Century Avenging Patriarch), ‘BEHOLD, IT IS I, ERICH VON STRAUSSHEIM, RECENTLY RETURNED FROM THE DEAD.’
The faceless, dancing alumni immediately leap out of your way (you can’t help but be reminded of Cats) and begin genuflecting towards you. Achitophel, all a-stutter, remains standing, but is very obviously moved.
‘M-m-my lord…’ she begins, ‘but, t-the summoning ceremony, the Shadow Realm – ’
‘I AM THE SHADOW REALM,’ you bellow, ‘AND WHERE I WALK IS THE SHADOW REALM.’
‘My lord!’ Achitophel cries, bowing deeply and laying the Infinity Bludgeon on the ground before her.
Recognizing the Bludgeon, you think fast. ‘RISE, ACHITOPHEL, DAUGHTER OF CLARENCE, AND DELIVERETH TO ME MINE BLUDGEON OF INFINITY.’
‘Of course,’ she replies, rising quickly, holding the Bludgeon out before her, and you reach out to take it…
But Achitophel swiftly pirouettes, flinging the bludgeon around before bringing it crashing against your knee, which shatters upon impact. Feeling your legs fold out from under you, you collapse into your robes as you hear her cackle.
‘FOOL! Did you seriously think I could mistake you for Erich von Straussheim?’
‘Yes,’ you reply weakly.
Caught off guard by your matter-of-fact confession, Achitophel hesitates, wielding the Infinity Bludgeon above her head. Naturally, you try to capitalize on it.
‘Achitophel, don’t do this,’ you plead, ‘remember our days at Denny’s? Remember the ketamine? Bayonne?’
‘You were a better person, then – one of the Reh’a’la,’ she answers, tearfully, before her face grows stern and she adds, ‘you killed him, didn’t you?’
‘And I killed a mime, as well,’ you reflect, regretfully.
Achitophel only shakes her head, and is about to bring down the Bludgeon when she is interrupted yet again by a cry from the wings. It’s the Woman of a Certain Age.
‘Wait!’ she yells, running on-stage, ‘Once you kill them the story will be over, and we still have so much exposition to cover.’
‘Yea, what about Erich von Straussheim, how exactly are you going to resurrect him?’ Twin #2 inquires, joining her.
‘Yea, and why is this Blood Cult sponsored by venture capitalists?’ Twin #1 adds, appearing alongside his double.
‘Use your imagination,’ Achitophel replies dryly, before bringing down the Bludgeon.
‘Wait!’ you scream, but it’s too late – you’re not gonna learn more, not gonna save the day, and certainly won’t be using that head of yours any time soon.
Homecoming of Horrors 