So, the imperiled maiden delicately steps towards the suspect closet and slides open the doors to find...a fat adolescent with a spear through his head! "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" shrieks Raoul, foolishly writhing about atop his overstuffed armchair with misguided delight, for the fat adolescent has merely wrapped a wild-n-crazy fake arrow around his head. "Oh, I am ashamed!" Raoul blushes, burying his now crimson face in his exquisitely manicured paws. "How could I have fallen victim to so childish a prank?!" Don't worry too much about it, my scaly friend, because The Imperiled Maiden seems to have bought it, too. "Really!?" Well, no, actually -- I'm lying to you to make you feel better, because The Imperiled Maiden saw through the tubby little bastard's immature ruse immediately. "Rats!" Yep, she wastes not a moment on the stupid trick and instead hauls Fat Jimmy to his pudgy feet to chide him for ignoring her earlier order to go to bed. Fat Jimmy offers to head upstairs as previously instructed if The Imperiled Babysitter lets him cop a feel, and with that, Fat Jimmy has officially become the first of several children scattered throughout this evening's presentation who need to die, and die horribly at that. Unfortunately, rather than hacking his skull neatly in two with a meat cleaver for his disgusting advance, The Imperiled Babysitter merely shoos him upstairs before returning to her made-for-TV Cujo knockoff. As the rabid dog on the screen shoves its frantically yapping muzzle into the driver-side window, The Imperiled Babysitter suddenly hears an equally rabid dog frantically yapping its muzzle on the lawn below the house. She mutes the set's volume and warily rises once more to peer out the front window, but of course sees nothing.

Some lengthy period of time later, the television screen's filled with snow as the master and mistress of the manor return from their wild night out doing whatever the hell it is that yokels do for fun in the middle of an 1100-square-mile wasteland on the ass end of Nebraska. "Key parties?!" shrieks Raoul, trying to be helpful, and for once, I think you might be on to something there, friend of friends, though I'm not going to Google "Nebraska Panhandle Swingers Clubs" to confirm it. "Wise decision!" In any event, when the just-arriving lecherous rednecks spot The Imperiled Babysitter passed out on the living room sofa, the husband sends his bone-tired wife upstairs while he prepares to rouse "Amber" and drive her home. Hubby first whispers Imperiled Amber's name, then gently shakes her shoulder, but he receives no response, so he reaches down to, um, cop a feel, maybe? Beats the crap out of me, but like father, like son, I suppose. In any event, he reaches down and...shoves his fingers into a puddle of blood! "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" shrieks Raoul, this time rightly writhing about upon his overstuffed armchair with justified delight, for when the increasingly horrified hubby pushes Formerly Imperiled And Now Dead Amber onto her back, her rapidly cooling ass leaves half its brain behind on the tasteful leather upholstery because something's clawed open the right side of her skull! "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" Screeching for his bone-tired wife, Horrified Hubby lets loose with an amusingly girly "FRAN-CEEEEEEEEN!" right before we hit the...