around the big chase scene, randy wanders off. because let’s face it, the house is kind of empty, and it’s suddenly dawned on his drink-addled mind that maybe being in stu’s big old creepy house with a killer on the loose ( even if it’s not billy, which randy seriously doubts ) is exactly the kind of decision that a stupid teen in a horror movie might make. the kind of teen that doesn’t even get in the big credits at the end because nobody remembers the third act knife fodder like they remember michael myers and laurie strode. and hey, randy’s not looking to be fucking memorable here, but alive guy #1 might be a great place to start.
that’s when he stumbles across stu. his vertically-stretched friend is facing away from randy, towards the garage, and randy’s so preoccupied (and a little dizzy at first) that he doesn’t see it. doesn’t see how his shoulders are shaking. doesn’t see --
“tatum???” he blurts out before he can try to be tactful, because sure enough the body hanging from the garage door, all gross and swinging, a disgusting murder, worse than anything he’s seen in halloween or creep show or slumber party massacre, in a display that the hardcore horror fans would love but makes randy want to puke, is tatum fuckin’ riley. another one bites the dust, randy thinks, and he wants to laugh, but if he laughs he’ll puke and then he’ll definitely cry, and he needs to be here for stu, goddamnit. “shit. fuck. i can’t -- @creepies, man, are you okay?” and he steps closer, puts an awkward hand on stu’s back -- his best attempt at comforting someone he doesn’t think he’s ever seen cry.
