This is a little brain fart I wrote years ago for shits and giggles, in which the beautifully creative, improvisational, satirical slapstick geniuses, the Marx Brothers meet Clive Barker‘s original cinema-version of the Cenobites of Hellraiser.
No infringement on any rights are intended. This is just something I wanted to share in honour of Halloween; a little writing exercise in fanfic I did for fun. Enjoy. Or not.
Scene: Groucho, Harpo, and Chico are in Groucho’s living room. He takes out the Box Of Lament, showing it to Chico, and Harpo.
Groucho: Okay, this particular little item is very dangerous, and very delicate. I need you two to keep an eye on it, and make sure nothing happens to it. And whatever you do, don’t try and open it!
Groucho sizes them up a moment and then replaces the Box Of Lament in his coat pocket.
Groucho: On second thought, that’d be like trusting a chimpanzee with a hand grenade.
Groucho heads to the door followed by Harpo. Harpo takes the Box out of Groucho’s pocket, as Groucho leaves. Harpo walks back to Chico, holding the Box Of Lament.
Chico: Hey, whatta you think you’re doing? You heard whatta the boss said. We don’t gotta open this box or else there will be trouble!
He yanks the box from Harpo’s hand and puts it in his pocket. Harpo promptly takes the Box of Lament from Chico and solves the puzzle. The walls shake and tear open. Flames burst through the cracks as smoke, rancor and darkness fill the air. Groucho hurriedly comes back into the apartment, and looks around.
Groucho: I can’t really leave you fellas alone! I’m gone for two minutes and you let the place go all to Hell!
From one of the cracks in the wall Pinhead enters.
Pinhead: You have opened the gateway to Hell. Your lives and souls are now forfeit. You belong to Hell.
Groucho: Just what I always wanted: My own little Hell-in-the-wall. Well it’s not much, but at least I don’t have to pay for heat.
Pinhead: You now belong to us, for all eternity!
Chico: Wait a minute! Who are you and how long’s an eternity last?
Pinhead: We are the Cenobites. And an eternity…is forever.
Groucho: Well, I’ll tell you what I told the Jehova’s Witnesses: Thank you for your time, but I’m happy with what I practice now.
Chico: Hey, boss? Whatta you practice?
Groucho: Today? Surgery. Tomorrow? Undertaking.
Pinhead: Your pain will be legendary, even for Hell!
Groucho: I knew a girl who was legendary, even for Hell. It’s always a shame when a nice gal gets a bad reputation. Remind me to apologize to her for playing kiss and tell.
Pinhead: You will suffer torture and agony as we explore pain to the depths of your soul.
Chico: Hey, you know what really hurts? When you stub your toe!
Harpo nodds. He steps around to stand behind Pinhead and begins hanging Christmas ornaments from the nails sticking out of his face.
Pinhead: I speak not of such trivial things; I speak of agony that no living thing can endure.
Groucho lights up a cigar and paces around.
Groucho: Oh I know about agony; I know all about agony that no living thing can endure; I died on Broadway.
Pinhead grins, and approaches Groucho. He takes the cigar from Groucho and studies it. Pinhead raises his hand and then stubs the cigar out in his palm. Harpo takes the cigar and strings it on an ornament hook then hangs it from the side of Pinhead’s face.
Pinhead: I speak of suffering the likes of which you can’t imagine. I speak of epic pain.
Chico: Epic pain? That-a no sounds too good.
Groucho: It sounds like my ex-wife.
Groucho turns to Pinhead.
Groucho: Have you met her? You sound just like her divorce attorney.
Harpo hangs one ornament too many off of Pinhead and they clatter, fall and break. Pinhead reels around and Harpo falls to the floor.
Pinhead: I WILL EAT YOUR SOUL! I WILL EAT ALL YOUR SOULS!
Groucho: You’ll eat my soul? Let me suggest the filet of soul. It comes with a chef’s salad and your choice of rice, baked beans, or French fries. For two dollars more, you get coffee and apple pie a la mode.
Chico: Ah, now, that sounds-a good!
Harpo nodds enthusiastically.