A Nuthouse Productions Online Collaboration










As Bill awoke, he realized that something was not quite right with his surroundings.

"Quick check," he muttered to himself. "Clothes...check. Wallet.... Check. Keys.... Check. Watch.... Check. Ok, looks like I haven't been mugged...that's good. Now where the hell am I?"

Bill looked at his surroundings. It didn't take long because he was in a box. A big metal box. No windows. No doors. There were four other people in the room, all of them seemed to be asleep. As he crawled over to the closest sleeping form, Bill heard voices outside the box.

"Vorsichtig mit diesem Versand! Der Chef ist verärgert, wenn der Inhalt defekt ist!"1

I don't think that's English, thought Bill..."Actually," he thought to himself, "That sounds an awful lot like Spanish."

Bill wasn't the brightest bum on the planet, needless to say. He continued to look about the room. One of the people asleep seemed to have something on his back.

It appeared to be a monkey. A prosthetic monkey, in fact. Bill wondered as to why someone would have a prosthetic monkey on one's back. Sure, it'd be great for those situations where a monkey is required, but one is never to be found, but the "monkey on your back" jokes would sure get old quick.

As Bill pondered the monkey situation, the door to the box began to squeak open, and the sleeping men began to awaken.

A voice came from the doorway, in poor English, saying, “All of you wake up! Rise, pigs! The commander waits an interim report!”

As the other four people and Bill stood up, another man poked his head into the box, looked them over, and shouted over his shoulder, “Nur eins dieser Reihe ist, Sir bereit! Vorbehaltliche Nr. zwei sieben neun stürzen fifty-four A. Er ist das prothetische Affeexperiment. Sein Affe wird völlig entwickelt. Der Rest zeigen nicht Zeichen der Entwicklung für ihre Änderungen.” 2

Another voice from outside the box said, “Holen Sie ihn mir sofort. Der Kommandant ist am erfreutesten! Halten Sie die anderen im Kasten bis morgen. Hoffnungsvoll zeigen sie etwas Fortschritt bis dahin.”3 

The man with the monkey grafted to his back was dragged from the box. He kicked and screamed in a language that sounded prissy and pathetic. “Arrêt! Arrêt! Don.t font ceci! Pourquoi faites-vous ceci à moi? Quel est le problème avec vous? Je veux mon mommy! Je veux mon ours bourré! Enlevez ce singe de rien de Dieu en ce moment ou je vous tuerai tout!”4

Bill shook his head and wished he had a computer with him so he could get online and translate all of this nonsense. The door slammed shut, and they were engulfed in darkness. A hissing noise started coming from one of the walls, and Bill began to get very, very sleepy.

When he awoke he had a headache, and he didn’t feel quite right. He felt his body all over and discovered the following three problems:

First and foremost, Bob was shocked to find that he had been turned into a sequined tunic!!! Bob screamed, but upon further examination realized that he was simply *wearing* a sequined tunic. The second problem Bob noticed was that what he had assumed to be a sleeping person on either side of him were not sleeping. They were cold and stiff, the icy hand of death having ravaged their bodies. They were also not people, per se...from rubbing his hands over the faces and bodies of the corpses, he realized that they were gaudily garbed clowns! "Well, now they're good clowns," Bob muttered. Finally Bob realized the worst thing of all...he had lost his schpadoinkle. This was bad, because without his schpadoinkle, he could not become the world's only undisputed 4 square champion. BILL, had always dreamed of one day entering the world's 4 square competition and with his trusty schpoidoinkle, which enabled him to perform a massive blow to the ball and knock the other players completely out of the ring, rise to the top of the ranks quickly. However now with it gone and replaced with a prosthetic monkey on his back in a room full of dead clowns, Bill was concerned. Bill was concerned with...

No, not English at all, thought Bill. His sequined tunic began chaffing and caused itching. He had to scratch. He began scratching uncontrollably, he started to jump up and down, and all around from the horrible itching. The sleeping form began to moan as if to awake from its slumber. He froze. His heart thumped in his chest. THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! Suddenly there was light form the ceiling. It looked as if someone was opening the box as if it had a lid. He stood frozen; as his left testicle itched worse than that case of ringworm he had last summer. There was a shadow...It looked like a big ugly bat monster holding a *****. Bill shrieked like a girl and began throwing himself against the wall where he remembered the door being. The rational part of Bill’s mind, the little tiny part of it that wasn’t completely out to lunch right then was cursing vehemently. He knew that he would be all right, everything would be all right if he just had his schpadoinkle.

“FUCK! I just know everything would be all right if only I had my schpadoinkle!!!”

Meanwhile, as Bill was continuing to beat himself against the door, the *****-wielding Big Ugly Bat Monster descended into the box and began feasting upon the corpses of the clowns. Bill was temporarily relieved to see this, but he knew that a few dead clowns couldn’t curb a Big Ugly Bat Monster’s appetite for long.

Without warning, the door broke off the hinges and Bill fell into the room beyond the box. It was huge. It was, in fact, quite easily the biggest room he had ever seen in his life.

The *****-wielding Big Ugly Bat Monster looked up from it’s clown meal (Happy on the outside; Sad on the inside!) and said “REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!”


“REEEEEEEEEEE!!!” The Big Ugly Bat Monster reiterated.

“SLAM!!!” said the door, as Bill shoved it back with all his strength.

Bill thought he was out of the woods. Well, actually he thought he was out of the box. If Bill hadn’t been such a literal-minded person, he might have used the metaphor “out of the woods,” but he wasn’t, so he didn’t. At any rate, he thought he wasn’t in any more immediate danger and, as he fought to regain his breath, Bill looked around at his surroundings.

Bill’s surroundings were occupied thusly:

Several desks

One extremely large mainframe computer, lights a-blinking

The largest airplane Bill had ever seen

500 humongous Nazi Swastika flags, dangling vertically from the ceiling two hundred feet above Bill’s head, and moving gently in the breeze of

50 gigantic industrial fans set into the walls

1,275 dead, mangled Nazis scattered across the floor which was flooded with

Countless gallons of red, red blood which was being slurped up by

11, 674 Big Ugly Bat Monsters, all clinging *****’s in their talons

The 11, 674 Big Ugly Bat Monsters looked at Bill.

Bill looked at the 11, 674 Big Ugly Bat Monsters.

He screamed like Paul. That is, to say, like a little bitch. The 11,674 Big Ugly Bat Monsters all raised their right eyebrows simultaneously, which is quite a feat, considering that Big Ugly Bat Monsters aren't the brightest creatures on the planet. 

Unfortunately, they are some of the best killing machines on the planet. Bill felt that running wouldn't help. However, as it couldn't really make anything WORSE, he decided to give it a try.

Sadly, Bill, upon hitting the red, red blood, lost all semblance of traction and began to slide about helplessly. The 11, 674 Big Ugly Bat Monsters all followed his flailing and screaming with what could best be described as amusement.

Bill suddenly found himself sliding towards the mainframe. He slammed into at about 15 mph. As the world spun about him, he suddenly became aware that the fans above him had begun to spin much, much faster.

As the fans spun, Bill saw a way out of this mess. About thirty meters away, there was a door with a sign over it that read "A Way Out of This Mess.” Still dazed and confused, Bill began sliding his feet in the red, red blood in an attempt to sort of "skate" to the exit.

Seconds were precious. The Big Ugly Bat Monsters (Copyright © 1998 Fuzzy Chickie Productions) would be upon him any second. “Oh, if only I had Big Ugly Bat Monster repellent,” thought Bill, who had unfortunately left his home that morning without it. “Of all the luck,” he mused, “The one day I think ‘Hey, I won’t run into any Big Ugly Bat Monsters today, I can leave the spray at home,’ I run into 11,674 big ugly bat monsters. Great.”

The Big Ugly Bat Monsters seemed slow and sluggish, likely from gorging upon Nazis and clowns and the like. This gave Bill the time he needed. He made it to the way out, grabbed the handle of the door, and tried to open…but to no avail. There was a weird beeping noise and a little window beside the door displayed the following message; “You need the red key to open this door.”

A single tear rolled down Bill’s cheek. The Big Ugly Bat Monsters were near, carrying their *****s, shrieking and carrying on. “Well, this is it. I’m gonna die,” thought Bill, when suddenly and without warning...he died.

The end.

...Of Bill was indeed sudden and without warning. In fact, it was so incredibly sudden that Bill didn't even know he was dead. He really thought he was still alive, and so his heart kept beating, his lungs kept breathing, and his brain kept thinking.

What his brain was thinking just now was, "Oh, shit."

That's when he noticed a big metal manhole in the floor right next to his feet.

"Huzzah! A way out!” Bill heaved the manhole cover open and peered down into the deep, black blackness. He took a deep breath and jumped. Not into the manhole, but just straight up, and straight back down. Luckily, the floor where he was standing was very weak, and gave way under Bill's weight. Bill fell, and fell, and fell, and fell. Meanwhile, the big ugly bat monsters circled above the hole he had left in the floor, angrily screeching. Then one of the big ugly bat monsters had an idea.  

Bill was still falling and falling and falling and falling. 

The bright big ugly bat monster left momentarily and returned with a giant steel ball covered in eight-inch spikes. Into the hole it went, falling, and falling, and falling, and falling after Bill.  

Without warning, Bill landed in
the wonderful Land of Oz. He was on top of a woman in green and white striped socks who seemed to be moving less and less as the seconds ticked by.

There were many tiny people surrounding him. They were all cheering.

"Thank you, kind sir," one of the little men said.

Bill, alas, never found out why he was being thanked, as the Big Ugly Bat Monster with his giant steel ball covered in eight-inch spikes began throwing his giant steel ball covered in eight-inch spikes like a wicked, wicked bowling ball and the tiny people were so many easily perforated pins.

Bill was able to save himself, though, by the only way that Bill know he could escape this kind of insanity. In death. So Bill slit his wrists with one of the razor sharp spikes from the big ugly bat monster's bat-o-doom. Knowing full well that it would take him a few minutes to die bill also prepare a rope to hang himself with in record setting speed and then promptly hung himself. While all this was going on the little people decided to fight against the bat monster and started to throw these funny yellow bricks that were all over ground. The bat monster taken back by this stared to run away but ran into the fresh corpse of Bill, causing bill to fall from the noose on to its tail trapping in to the ground as the little people continued to throw the bricks at the beast and bills corpse killing the beast and burying them both and to make sure they set the pile a blaze. 


Fin (entered the room). Fin the Eskimo, Quin's brother, happened to be well versed in the healing arts. He whipped out his first aid kit and patched Bill's wrists, reconnected his severed spinal cord, and using a plunger to pop out the dents from the bricks, and a healing salve to treat the burns from the blaze.

Blinking back into consciousness, Bill thanked Fin. "Thank you, Fin," said Bill. "It's almost like some greater, and yet bitter and ill-tempered power is tired of my life and trying to end it prematurely. Thankfully a more benevolent being has sought to spare me, sending you here to revive me."

“And your life was going so well," clucked Fin. Apart from the Nazis, clowns, sequined tunic, big ugly bat monsters, blood, death, fall, and giant spiky steel balls."

"It's been peachy," said Bill. "Why does some anonymous, and quite likely edgy god who probably has issues due to past relationship strife, seem to want to do me in?"

Before Fin the Eskimo could answer, A black clad, green skinned woman appeared before them.

"Where's the little girl?" she asked, sounding a little short tempered. "She's supposed to be here so I can threaten her and try and take her first pair of heels!"

Bill, feeling slightly confused, as he was just brought back from the dead, said, "There's no little girl around here. I mean, there's little girls, but that's just a size thing, you know, midgets and all. I think you mean a child."

"Damn you, I do mean a child!," the woman screamed, "But since she isn't here, you'll have to do. Give me those shoes!"

Bill looked down at his dependable, worn out boots and said "No." He then kicked the witch in the stomach and took off running.

"I'll get you my pretty, and your little Eskimo, too..." screamed the witch after them, as she curled up in pain.

Great, thought Bill, now there's two people out there who want me dead.

He turned to Fin and said, "Why does this keep happening to me?"

But before Fin could answer, the evil force that has attempted twice now to kill Bill because he had abandoned his original quest of becoming the four square champion of the world, found our two heroes running for their lives away from the witch. Hmm. This is odd he thought for I have already killed Bill and who is this Fin guy. Looking at his PDA-O-evil he moved his pen over the screen and Fin stopped. Fin began to feel a strange tingle in his left arm and then suddenly dropped dead. Well that’s one, thought the evil being.

Now, Bill, he has been a pain in my side for at least 20 minutes. Just then as Bill was looking over the corpse of Fin an army of robotic Richard Simmons came charging over the horizon. Bill swallowed hard as a hard metallic fist ruptured his lower intestine. The last words that Bill ever hear was "Shake shake shake, shake our booty, shake your booty" as the robotic Richard Simmons did their favorite sweatin' to the oldies routines on his body. To assure that the robotic army would do no more harm the earth opened up and swallowed them and both Bill's and Fin's bodies, then quickly closed, crunching them into atoms.  

On a darker side due to the extraordinary healing powers of Fin, it turned out that all of Fin's relatives blood, marriage, good friends, and just random acquaintances were bonded to his life force thus allowing Fin to do so much good in the world. Unfortunately shortly following the death of Fin, all of these other people die as well.

Bill, at least for the moment, was dead. Fin, as well, was dead.

The Big Ugly Bat Monster which had followed Bill into Oz was not, in the strictest sense, dead. Hank-- for that was the Big Ugly Bat Monster’s name—crawled slowly from beneath the pile of bricks that had been his intended tomb. Hank was exceptionally angry with the Munchkins who had attempted to kill him, and he set about devising his vengeance.

“Think, think, think,” said Hank, tapping his head and obscurely violating copyright laws.

It should be noted that Hank was not truly speaking in English, nor was he speaking in Ninglish, which is like English, only not. The language of the Big Ugly Bat Monsters sounds, to the untrained ear, like nothing so much as long, undifferentiated shrieks. So, what Hank actually said was, “REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”

However, because there are not many people who can actually read the language of the Big Ugly Bat Monsters, it will be translated into English, or something closely resembling it.

Hank, thinking hard, quickly devised a plan of utmost horror and terror and evilness. He would set in motion this plan immediately, but first he would need to find was find a big and pointy knife. Hank then took out his vengeance on all the Munchkins but then realized after the emptiness of his victory that they were not the real enemy. Hank could always feel the slight power that was controlling him throughout the story and decided he wanted to free himself. Hank then quickly killed the authors of the story one by one. As he killed the last author of the story Hank realized that his existence and the existence of the entire world that he belonged to would die as the last person who realized that they existed at all died. As the life poured out from behind the eyes of the last author hank began to fade out of existence. Panicked, Hank grabbed for the computer but lack the essence to move the mouse, just then a power surge fried the server and all the IP addresses in recent history, destroying the story all together.

In a bizarre twist of fate, irony, and the physics of collaborative storytelling, the events of the previous paragraph set in motion the ultimate destruction of not only the story’s universe, but that of the authors as well.

Sean’s mistake was in allowing a fictional character to alter reality. Hank indeed killed all of the authors of THE TRAGIC TALE OF BILL, which is patently impossible. It would seem that Hank himself is the murderer here, and while he was a being of evil, the crime does not ultimately lie with him. Sean, being the entity in absolute control at the time of these heinous crimes, is the culprit.

But he is dead, having forced a creature of his own imagination to destroy him. Thus, not only did Sean kill an entire word’s worth of living, breathing (albeit fictional) creatures and people, but he also committed suicide. Poor, sad, pathetic Sean.

Sean’s second mistake was in believing that he could actually destroy the story by killing all of its authors. This is where things get tricky, contradictory, and seemingly impossible on a level that no time-travel episode of Star Trek could ever rival. It seems that since all of the authors were dead, as well as the fictional universe, the last few sentences of Sean’s entry could not have been valid. Thus, the IP address, and all of that other crap remained intact. There was no power surge, and the story remained alive, even though everything in it and everything around it, and everyone responsible for it was dead, dead, dead.

The story, being posted on a publicly available message board, is not only open to all to read, but also is available to be updated for all eternity. Thus, to kill the story entirely, every living soul on the planet must be slaughtered to ensure the true and ultimate death of the story.

This did not happen. It was never stated that all prospective authors and readers of the story were annihilated. Thus, the story lives on. Hank lives on. Bill and Fin, although they were last seen quite dead, live on. The Munchkins live on, or at least, the ones whom Hank didn’t slaughter do so.

Since none of this really makes much sense at all, and is so incredibly impossible, and flies in the face of everything humanity has come to know and understand about everything, the universe collapsed, and killed everything everywhere retroactively throughout the space-time continuum. What a bummer.

However, Reality has a way of reasserting itself, and at the exact moment of the universe’s collapse, it was reborn. Like an elastic band, it returned itself to its original shape over several hundreds of thousands of millennia, and automatically readjusted so this same horrible mistake could never again be made.

And so…

Hank blinked. He was quite startled to find that he did, in fact, exist after all. He wondered why, and looked over the last few paragraph of the story that he had missed. Immediately, he regretted doing so, and decided that it was much less painful to just wonder why all of this had happened.

There was a noise behind him. He turned, and saw The undead corpse of Sean, the poor sad individual that he is; HE looked at Hank and walked over to him.

"I hate you," said Sean. Then he turned a left. Never to return to the story or the message board again.

Hank confused, but happy that he wasn't burnt or beaten to death, or atomized went on with his merry little life. He spent days frolicking in the meadows killing whomever he pleased and was a very content Big Ugly Bat Monster to the end of his days.

The End 

Yes, well, okay then. 


So who wants to start another one? : D



1 Carefully with this dispatch! The boss is annoyed, if contents are defective!

2 Only one of this row are ready, Sir! Prisoner No. two seven nine dash fifty four A. He are the prosthetic ape experiment. Its ape is completely developed. The remainder do not show indications of the development of their changes

3 Get immediately it to me. The commander is most pleased! Hold the others in the box until tomorrow. Hope-fully they show something progress up to then

4 Stop! Stop! Don.t do this! Why do you do this with me? Which is the problem with you? I want my mommy! I want my bear stuffed! Remove this monkey of nothing God in this moment or I will kill you all!