..."GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" Uh. What? "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" Raoul shriekily repeats, directing my attention towards the television screen with one perfectly manicured claw before amending, "As in Lesley! Hee! See what I did there?" Yes. Yes, I see what you did there, you dizzy, peabrained dragon of a queen, you. "Oh, goody!" Raoul enthuses, adding, "I do so love that sassy little lesbian, you know!" For yes, gentle reader, Gore of the Lesley variety provides the soundtrack for what follows -- specifically, her smash hit from the summer of 1963, "It's My Party." Raoul is too clever for his own good, sometimes. "Thanks!" So. ANY-way, someone's night-vision camera picks up what appears to be a cake as Lesley assures us she'll cry if she wants to, until the shot cuts over to an overhead of a limp hand strapped to a mini-cam atop a table. The hand and all of the various cameras belong to Poor Little Fey Doomed Corbett, of course, who rouses himself into sludgy semi-consciousness at the sound of Darling Sammy's voice. Sam's remarkably broad frame has been lashed to a chair at the opposite end of the same table -- which itself is strewn with dust-encrusted party favors -- and he whispers urgently for Corbett to remain conscious and focused on him. Unfortunately, Corbett's focus drifts from time to time to a few taxidermied human hands jauntily positioned with glasses and noisemakers along the right side of his field of vision, but let's give the guy a break, here, especially because he's going to be dead in about five seconds. "Ooops! Spoiler! Hee!" Whatever, Raoul. While all this is going on, the off-screen turntable keeps shunting the playing arm back to the same line of the song, and the effect of Lovely Lesley tinnily repeating "It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to!" over and over and over again in the full glory of early-60s monophonic audio is both mildly irritating and tremendously creepy. "Stay awake!" Sam hisses. "Don't listen to him!" growls an unexpected and Lurch-like voice somewhere above Corbett's ear. Corbett woozily swings his head to the left and catches sight of a hand not his own just as the Lurch-like voice continues, "It stops hurting, so don't worry." Lurch retrieves a sharpening steel from the table and steps behind an increasingly terrified Corbett's back to yank Corbett's head upright by his hair. We flip to Corbett's FaceCam for what follows, and as Sam pleads with Lurch to leave the poor, doomed gay boy alone, Lurch plunges the steel through the back of Corbett's neck and slowly pushes it through until the tip punches through Corbett's throat to protrude about an inch and a half beyond the guy's Adam's apple. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" Raoul roars, near apoplectic with glee. And then? One of the night vision cameras kicks in as Lurch just as slowly yanks the thing back out, and I can't! I can't take this any more!