We looked at one another, nodded slowly, and began to stand from our present seats. The couch moaned knowingly as we began to walk over stale O-Kee-Dokeys and around empty pop bottles. Shane was too busy with his current performance, and his pets were enamored with his amateurish dancing ability. Fear took its toll on Travis before he even took a step, and he collapsed back onto the couch, putting his head down in shame. Only four of us were left to journey into The Room.
Shinra quickly ascertains that not all of them would make it unnoticed, and so he quickly devised a plan. He commandeers a fully-loaded MP5 Air-Soft Rifle, and takes aim at Shane�s face. As Jeremy and Robert slink into the darkness and through the hall, Shinra jerks the trigger of his piece, completely obliterating Shane�s jugular. He coughs and sputters in pain, prompting his pet guardians to quickly find their target and leap into action. Shinra runs screaming into a screen door while trying to escape into the backyard and is violently devoured by Dakota, Shane�s 140lb. German Shepherd. The sounds of ripping and tearing flesh emanate from the kitchen; Brandan passes out.
Shane was not fazed by the sound of bones breaking in his home. Blood spilling and compound fractures inflicted by his pets are natural. "One more body for the fire," exclaims Shane merrily. Upon hearing this, Alan stops running toward the exit and motions Robert and Jeremy to move on without him. He spins around, wielding a cattle prod and a hand grenade. "If it�s fire you want, explosives I�ve got!" Alan lets loose a terrible laugh as he bites the pin off his grenade. A cat jumps at his face, but is prodded in mid-air. Shane tries to deflect the cat missile as it flies towards him, but is knocked down by pure feline force. Alan produces a make-shift victory dance and spikes the grenade into yet another cat. Everything within a 10 foot radius of Alan�s charred, mangled body is eradicated (Travis included), but miraculously, Shane survives.
Jeremy takes note of the situation and drags Robert by the arm into the hallway. He kicks Shane�s door down, shattering the frame with ease. The disgusting odor of cat litter and glade plug-in immediately attacked their senses. They gagged and faltered for a moment as the atmosphere brought them to their knees. Somehow, they were able to pull themselves off the ground just long enough to crawl into the room. Being so close to the infested ground drove Robert to madness, and he started to scream as he found a clove of dirty socks piled beneath him. He falls and accidentally rolls into the pile, inducing more screams. Jeremy presses on without Robert�s assistance. A bunk bed cluttered with model parts and random clothing apparel stood ominously to Jeremy�s left. Scattered across the floor were various "Armed and Patriotic" magazines, as well as more cat litter (for Shane?). A wooden desk rests near the bed, where more models and plastic ammunition lay sprawled. Army fatigues are strewn about Shane�s closet along with military hardware and children�s books. A lone window sits above the desk, covered by dusty blinds.
Jeremy takes his last breath of fresh air and barricades the gaping hole with the remnants of Shane�s door. He steps over Robert�s cold limp body and runs for the window, drawing up the shade in a timely manor. Just before he unlocks the window, a crashing sound draws his attention to the doorway. The darkened room is illuminated, and the frail figure of Shane is seen standing in the light, brandishing an Air-Soft pistol, his hair flowing like a horse�s mane. With his last breath, Brandan is heard in the living room, crawling on the floor. He gathers enough strength to elevate himself towards the stereo system. In one last lunging effort, he presses the "Disc Skip" knob, successfully eradicating the current soundtrack. He has set the mood for an epic battle; he has changed the song to "Beat It."
The bass echoes through the halls, restoring hope to Jeremy. He grabs a children�s book and hurls it at Shane�s hand. It cracks against his knuckles, forcing him to drop his firearm. Jeremy gets a running start, kicks off the bunk bed and throws a roundhouse kick at Shane�s head. Shane�s face becomes an emotionless void; his body wilts sadly to the ground as he silently hunches over and dies. Jeremy turns, seizes a pistol, and puts it into his shoulder holster. He dons his cloak, smirks, and rides off into the night.