"Shannon! Would you just CHILL for half-a-second?!?", pleads Casey to her hysterical little sister.
"No, Casey! Not until we're all OUT of here! There's something not right tonight! I wanna go home!", Shannon begs, tugging on her big sister's right arm, while Paul, her new boy-toy has a firm grip on Casey's left.
" - that's right, kiddies! Sneak into Dr. Tickle's Torture Dungeon for absolutely FREE! Tonight ONLY ! Be the "test subjects" for the mad doctor's diabolical experiments in---", harks the gravelly-voiced carnival barker made-up in greasepaint and masquerade gowns, leering over the children as they pass below his makeshift stage.
Pulling closer to Paul, Casey laughs, "Shannon, you are so jealous! Why do you have to do this every time I -"
"Casey, PLEASE!", and Shannon frantically grips her big sister's arm, "We need to LEAVE here! Didn't you notice the way the face-painter back there acted with Erica and Richard? What about those CLOWNS? They aren't supposed to TOUCH you, are they? I'm telling you, there's something very - "
Shannon's desperate pleadings are interrupted by the eerie masked face of the barker, poking in over their shoulders, "That's right! Mosey on, my little pigeons! There's cotton candy and corndogs for you to stuff yourselves on just past the tents. I wouldn't expect little Midwestern PANSIES like YOU to brave the good doctor's dungeon, anyway!".
"Whatever, freak!" Paul chides, as Casey laughs and nudges up tightly next to her date. "Let's DO this!", says Paul as he saunters in past the curtains, the rest of the kids (some hesitantly) in tow.
"Good luck, kids! You'll NEED it! You little - - ", and Shannon shuts the door on the scary pitchman, only to plunge them all into total darkness, each trapped in a separate holding cell.
"Well well! What have we here?" laughs an entirely too creepy voice from the blackness. " Welcome, children! I am your host for this evening's merriment - Dr. Tickle, and you are about to experience the most invigorating night of your tender young lives!".
As each of the bunch fight the bars of their cages in futility, their captor emerges from the shadows, a wild-eyed human head in a jar sitting on the seat of a Hover-round chair, twin sets of long and short mechanized tentacles wiggling menacingly at the head's behest.
Puttering past the now sobbing children, the head-in-a-jar announces, "Now you're in MY hands, you little brats! And I won't be happy until I've spent all night deciding which of you little pissants is the most pathetic SLAVE for me to pester FOREVER, and that means that each of you is my honored and cherished prisoner until dawn. One of you will be staying with us, here on the Midnight Midway, as our pretty plaything, while the rest of you will be more than happy to forget that any of this ever even happened! Good luck, kiddies! You'll NEED it as you try to find the exit out of Dr. Tickle's Torture Dungoen. Bwahahahaha!"
And the last thing each of the kids hear as they are sent hurtling in screaming terror down into secret cellar shafts is the mad cackling of the disembodied head-in-a-jar, some floors above.
{From this point on, writers are encouraged to continue the plight of the five unwitting child captives, as each separately attempts to escape from a madman's dungeon of perversity, and survive the nightmare of Dr. Tickle's Torture Dungeon!}
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