Scarier Movie II CH:2

The bell on the door gave a weak ding as the gang stumbled into the diner. The inside was about as impressive as the outside, which is to say it looked like someone hadn't cleaned it since the Nixon administration. The booths were ripped, the floors were sticky with God knows what, and the flickering fluorescent lights hummed like they were plotting against anyone who entered. The entire place smelled vaguely of burnt toast and regret.

Tammy froze in the doorway, her eyes scanning the dilapidated diner in disgust. "You've got to be kidding me."

Brad, undeterred, slapped his hands together and took in a deep breath. "Ah, nothing like a good old-fashioned diner. Smell that? That's the scent of adventure."

Tammy raised an eyebrow. "Smells more like expired bacon."

Stacey pranced past Tammy, her eyes glued to her phone screen. "Oh my God, this place is, like, so retro! I bet I can get some super cute photos in here. Ghosts love diners, right?" She snapped a picture of herself in front of an old jukebox, which was rattling suspiciously. "Look at the aesthetic!"

Derek nervously peered around the diner, clutching his dice bag. "I don't like this place. It's too quiet. Way too quiet."

"Not for long!" Brad said, pumping his fist in the air. "I'm starving! Let's grab a booth."

They shuffled over to one of the least destroyed booths and sat down, the cracked vinyl seats letting out a suspicious squish as they did. Tammy made a face like she had just sat in a puddle of death.

Brad grabbed a sticky menu from the table and flipped it open. "What do you think ghosts eat? Ectoplasm omelets?"

Morgana, who had been busy staring at the cracked tiles on the floor with mild interest, smirked. "Probably the souls of the people dumb enough to stop here."

Suddenly, a waitress appeared out of nowhere, seriously, she hadn't even made a sound. One second, there was no one there, and the next, she was standing at their table. Her uniform was outdated, her eyes were wide and unblinking, and she looked like she hadn't slept since the diner first opened in 1956.

"Can I get y'all anything?" Her voice was flat, emotionless, and somehow unnerving in a way that made Derek nearly jump out of his seat.

Stacey, completely oblivious to the creepy vibe, flashed her brightest smile. "Ooh, I'll have, like, a strawberry milkshake, extra whipped cream. Gotta keep the energy up for ghost-hunting, y'know?"

The waitress's dead eyes blinked slowly. "Uh-huh." She scribbled on a notepad without looking at it.

"I'll take a burger. Extra cheese, extra bacon, extra… everything," Brad added, his mouth already watering at the thought.

Tammy raised a hand, narrowing her eyes at the waitress. "Hold up, are you a ghost?"

The waitress blinked again. "No."

Tammy kept staring, unimpressed. "That's exactly what a ghost would say."

The waitress blinked a third time, slower than before. "Okay."

Derek gulped. "I'll just… have some water. Is the water haunted?"

The waitress didn't answer. She just turned and glided, yes, glided, away from the table, her movements eerily smooth.

Tammy leaned back, arms crossed. "I don't trust her."

Brad shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "She seems cool. Just a little overworked, maybe. Besides, who cares? We're getting food!"

Stacey giggled as she flipped through a new batch of filters for her phone. "Maybe the ghosts are, like, shy or something. We should totally get them on camera later."

Derek was too busy eyeing the rattling jukebox to respond. "Guys… I think something's wrong with that thing. It's been shaking since we walked in."

As if on cue, the jukebox let out a screeching sound and began playing a warped, crackling version of "Goodnight, Sweetheart" that seemed to come from another dimension. The lights in the diner flickered violently, casting shadows that danced and twisted across the walls. The rattling intensified, and suddenly, ketchup bottles on the counter began to shake and move on their own.

Tammy, wide-eyed, glanced at the others. "See? This is why we should've turned back. I don't need haunted condiments in my life."

Brad stood up and walked toward the jukebox, completely unfazed. "Relax. It's just old. Probably needs a reboot or something." He tapped the top of the jukebox confidently, like he was about to fix a malfunctioning TV.

The jukebox responded by spitting out a single, red-hot vinyl record that flew straight toward Brad's head. He barely dodged it in time, ducking to the floor as the record embedded itself into the wall like a ninja star.

"Whoa!" Brad laughed nervously, standing up and rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, maybe it's a little haunted."

Derek was already halfway under the table, gripping his dice bag like a life raft. "This is bad. This is really, really bad."

Stacey, as usual, was oblivious to the danger. She waved her phone in the air, trying to get a signal. "Can't ghosts just, like, chill? I'm trying to post."

The lights flickered again, and this time, the ketchup bottles shot off the counter, flying through the air like missiles. One hit Brad square in the face, exploding in a spray of red that covered his shirt.

"Ugh! It's like a horror movie!" Brad shouted, wiping ketchup out of his eyes.

Tammy didn't even flinch. "Well, this is what you wanted, Mr. 'Let's punch a ghost.'"

As they tried to dodge the flying condiments, the waitress returned, carrying their orders on a tray. She didn't seem at all fazed by the chaos around her. Plates rattled as she placed them on the table.

"Your food," she said in the same monotone voice.

Tammy stared at her incredulously. "Girl, do you not see the hell raining down in here?"

The waitress blinked slowly again. "I see it."

"And you're not even gonna react?"

The waitress looked at her blankly. "No."

Suddenly, the plates in front of them began to shift and warp. Stacey's milkshake bubbled ominously, the whipped cream sinking into the pink liquid. Brad's burger grew an extra bun and began twitching like it had a pulse. Derek's water turned a sickly green, glowing faintly.

"What… what is happening?" Derek whimpered, eyeing his glass.

Tammy pushed her plate away, narrowing her eyes at the waitress. "You've got five seconds to tell us what's going on in here, or I swear I'm walking out."

The waitress simply turned her head slowly toward Tammy, her expression still dead and blank. "I wouldn't leave if I were you. Not unless you want to meet them."

"Meet who?" Brad asked, stuffing a ketchup-covered fry into his mouth.

The waitress didn't respond. Instead, she glided back to the counter, leaving the gang alone with their bubbling, haunted meals.

Tammy stood up, shaking her head. "Oh, hell no. I'm not sticking around to see what kind of nightmare this place has in store. Let's go."

Just as she turned to head for the door, it slammed shut, the bell above it giving a final, mocking ding.

The gang froze, and the lights in the diner flickered one last time before plunging them into total darkness.

The diner was now bathed in an eerie darkness, with only the occasional flicker of the malfunctioning neon sign outside casting brief flashes of dim light into the room. Everyone froze, eyes wide as the last echo of the door slamming reverberated through the diner.

Tammy's voice cut through the tense silence. "I told y'all. I told y'all. This is exactly why I don't go anywhere with you idiots."

Brad, wiping the remaining ketchup off his face, shrugged. "Okay, sure, maybe it's a little haunted. But we can handle this! We just have to, "

Suddenly, Stacey shot up from her seat. "I need to pee."

Tammy blinked, incredulous. "What? Right now?"

Stacey nodded, clearly unfazed by the chaos around her. "Yeah, I had, like, a lot of water earlier, and I don't want to hold it. It's bad for you." She adjusted her crop top and started walking toward the restroom as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

"Are you serious?" Tammy called after her. "This place is clearly cursed, and you wanna go to the bathroom?"

Stacey shrugged. "When you gotta go, you gotta go."

Brad gave her a thumbs up. "That's the spirit! No ghosts can scare Stacey Carlson!"

Tammy slapped a hand to her forehead. "We're all gonna die."

Ignoring everyone, Stacey made her way to the back of the diner where the restrooms were located. The hallway leading to the bathrooms was dimly lit, the kind of place you'd expect to find a rat ordering a cup of coffee at the counter. As Stacey walked, her heels clicked on the grimy floor, her phone screen lighting the way as she scrolled through her feed.

Pushing open the bathroom door, she stepped inside. It looked as disgusting as the rest of the diner: flickering lights, cracked mirrors, and a smell that could probably kill a small animal. But Stacey, ever the optimist, just wrinkled her nose and headed to one of the stalls.

Back in the dining area, Tammy crossed her arms, eyes fixed on the hallway Stacey had just disappeared down. "This feels like the part in the movie where the dumb blonde goes missing."

Derek, who had been trying to figure out whether his glowing glass of water was radioactive, nodded. "Yeah, statistically speaking, she's definitely not coming back."

Brad leaned back in his booth, unbothered. "Nah, Stacey's fine. If any ghosts show up, she'll just… I don't know, TikTok them to death."

Morgana twirled a lock of her hair, clearly enjoying the rising tension. "Or she'll get possessed and start live-streaming from the underworld. That'd be fun to watch."

Tammy groaned. "Why am I friends with y'all?"

Suddenly, a loud crash came from the back hallway, followed by the sound of metal clattering to the floor.

Everyone froze.

"What was that?" Derek squeaked, gripping his dice bag tightly.

Without hesitation, Brad shot to his feet. "I got this. She probably just knocked over a paper towel dispenser or something."

Tammy grabbed his arm as he passed. "Brad, for once in your life, use your brain! We're in a haunted diner, and Stacey just disappeared into a bathroom that smells like Satan's armpit. This is not the time to be a hero!"

Brad pulled his arm free, flexing his muscles. "It's exactly the time to be a hero. I'll just go check on her real quick. No big deal."

Ignoring Tammy's protests, Brad made his way toward the hallway, Derek trailing behind him like a terrified puppy. Morgana sauntered after them, bored but curious, leaving Tammy with no choice but to follow.

As they reached the door to the women's bathroom, Brad turned to the group. "Alright, I'm going in."

"Do you even know how women's bathrooms work?" Tammy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Brad grinned. "Of course. You knock first, and then you just… go in, right?"

Tammy pinched the bridge of her nose. "We're gonna die. All of us. We're all gonna die."

Brad knocked on the door with far too much enthusiasm. "Stacey? You okay in there?"

There was no response.

He glanced back at the group and, with a dramatic sigh, pushed open the door.

Inside the bathroom, Stacey was still in the stall, humming to herself as she scrolled through her phone. She hadn't noticed anything strange yet, but then again, Stacey rarely noticed anything at all.

As Brad stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind him, causing him to jump.

"Stacey?" he called out, walking toward the stalls. "You good?"

Suddenly, one of the stall doors at the far end of the bathroom creaked open, the hinges squealing in protest. Brad froze, his bravado faltering for a moment as the lights flickered ominously.

"Uh… Stacey?"

The stall door swung open fully, revealing… nothing. Just an empty stall.

Brad let out a relieved breath and laughed nervously. "Man, this place is really playing tricks on us, huh?"

Just as he was about to turn around, something moved in the mirror above the sinks. It was a shadow, tall, dark, and definitely not his reflection. Brad's blood ran cold as he stared into the mirror, watching the shadowy figure loom closer, its form becoming clearer.

It was Jason Voorhees.

Brad's jaw dropped. "Wait… is that…?"

Before he could finish the thought, Jason raised his machete high above his head, his expressionless hockey mask staring straight at Brad. The lights flickered again, and Jason's massive figure stepped out from the reflection, now standing in the middle of the bathroom, machete in hand.

"OH HELL NO!" Brad screamed, diving to the floor just as Jason swung the machete with a terrifying whoosh.

From inside the stall, Stacey finally looked up from her phone. "Did someone say something?"

Brad scrambled toward the door, slipping on the damp tile floor. Jason, moving at his usual slow, unstoppable pace, stalked toward him, machete raised for another swing.

"Why is he so slow but still terrifying?!" Brad yelled as he fumbled for the door handle.

Finally managing to grip the door, he yanked it open and bolted out into the hallway, slamming it shut behind him.

The rest of the group stood in the hallway, staring at him in confusion. "What happened?" Tammy asked, hands on her hips.

Brad, panting and covered in sweat, pointed at the door. "J-Jason! Jason Voorhees is in there!"

Morgana raised an eyebrow. "Jason Voorhees? From Friday the 13th?"

"Yes! He's in there swinging his machete around like it's a damn horror convention!"

Tammy groaned. "This is why I stay home."

Just then, Stacey walked out of the bathroom, completely oblivious to the terror that had just unfolded. "Brad? Why are you all sweaty?"

Brad stared at her, wide-eyed. "Didn't you see Jason in there?!"

Stacey tilted her head. "Jason? No, I didn't see anyone. There was some guy in a mask waving around a big knife, but I just assumed he worked here."

Brad's mouth hung open as Tammy clapped her hands. "Alright, everyone. Time to go. Now. Before Mr. Machete gets another chance to show off his knife skills."

The group bolted for the diner's entrance, Brad leading the charge. As they reached the door, the lights flickered one last time, and they heard the distant whirr of Jason's machete slicing through the air. Brad kicked the door open, and they all poured out into the foggy night, breathless and more confused than ever.