Hydrogen: What the hell, is Macbeth in the next room over?
Trillaphon: Yep, just got his tonsils out, now he's treating himself to some FroYo & Banjo Kazooie.
Trillaphon: "Ah, I see you've met our crack team of Gypsy Witch-Priestess Diagnosticians! Best this side of Dunsinane."
Hydrogen: "Doctor, she just wrote some gutteral chants in my chart in chicken blood then threw some monkey knuckles on the ground and spit in my mouth!"
Trillaphon: "What were you expecting, a lollipop? Grow up."
Trillaphon: That burger thing might be the best fake-out in (dumbass horror) movie history.
Hydrogen: Coming this fall...Quentin Tarantino IS: The Hamburglar.
Trillaphon: I'd probably try to kill the pain with booze and ketchup if I looked like him too. If Tarantino and Roman Polanski conceived a squishy misshapen abomination-baby, gave gross, sloppy manbirth to it on a big pile of chin putty, and then surgically grafted a Bob Hope death mask onto its face, that guy would look like Jon Hamm compared to this guy.
Hydrogen: Why - why do you do this to me?
Trillaphon: More important question: why is every person in this movie the evil one?
Hydrogen: I don't know, those gypsies can be kind of nice once you get to know them.
Natural and supernatural horrors mount on an expedition to an island music festival for the wealthy.
With college finals approaching, it's time once again for Microsoft Word autosummaries of all the old, boring books you were supposed to read.
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