Often when watching a scary movie, I think to myself, “Who built this dimly lit room full of strange knick knacks? Why does it exist in that quiet suburban high school?” The space is always filled with mops, old track trophies, and voodoo dolls made from the blonde hair of a sophomore. Sometimes its the den of a disgruntled teacher facing childhood trauma or a cheerleader possessed by a demon, but usually its just an ordinary part of the backdrop. No one intentionally arranged the horrifying closet, yet there it is—a perfect setting for disaster. And for some reason, high school kids just keep going in there to make out. Don’t they see the jars full of frog legs?
I’d like to think that if I was faced with the choice of hanging out in a creepy basement waiting to be killed or, you know, not, I would choose the later. These kids just can’t get their priorities straight.