Saturday Slasher Cinema: SLUMBER PARTY MASSACRE 3!!!

Well Considering We started Slasher Cinema (and this is the 3rd SSC) We though it Only Appropriate that We Present SLUMBER PARTY MASSACRE 3!  The 1990 American Slasher Film Slumber Party Massacre (also Know As Captive Women in the Philippines) is Directed By Sally Mattison and Written By Catherine Cyran. The Film is the Third and Final Installment in the Slumber Party Massacre Trilogy.

                  

Brief Summary:

The DRILLER KILLER is Back for Part 3 of the Classic Cult Slasher Trilogy. This Time Around Jackie, Diane, and Martia are Three High School Girls Who Love to have a Good Time Partying like there’s No Tomorrow. When These Girls Party, They Bust Out of Their Bikinis and Break Out the Brews-But The Driller Killer is out for a Thrill with His Power Drill…and  He’s READY TO KILL! He’s Utterly Psychotic and Looking for Luscious Babe Bods to Murder and Mutilate, and He’ll find Them Too at Jackie’s Slumber Party turning it into a Blood Soaked Massacre!

Enjoy

We Hope You Enjoyed the Final Chapter in this Story of The DRILLER KILLER as Much as We Did.

Thanks For Watching,

Presented By     Les Sober & FYB

Telemarketer Berserker

During My long and illustrious job history I have worked as a dreaded Telemarketer 3 times. My first Telemarketing job we didn’t do sales (thank fucking God thats the fucking worst by far) we did surveys for different companies that contracted us to do market research essentially. It was the same with the second time I was a Telemarketer so again not so bad. The last time I was a Telemarked though it was a bizarrely surreal experience. It was so absurd I decided I had to write about it, and this was MANY, MANY Years down the line.

This story is so utterly strange in nature I’m not sure where to start exactly. I suppose I’ll start with the simplest thing first, and that would be the actual office building that housed a so called Call Center. The office was located out in some remote part of the sticks (most likely because land is cheaper out in the middle of no fucking where USA) so it was a long and tedious drive just to get there. The building itself was bleak and depressing looking like something out of 1950’s Russia (Russia has had several name changes so in the 50’s Russia may very well been called The Soviet Union or The USSR).  It was a single level office building whose walls were a Prison Gray with a stark pitch black roof.  the inside was not much better I assure you. The Inside was the seriously most generic, soul sucking, bland, mundane, and lifeless. Of course there was the mandatory Florescent Lights we all know and love. The Lights that seem to have an odd murky white (with a blue tinge) the kind of Lights that make your fucking eyes roll back in your head, they melt your will and break your spirit. Buildings with Florescent Lights always remind me of living in Maine. Maine is one of those states (next to no sun all year, and the sky is always a over cast.)

Once I entered the building (that looked like a through back Mental Hospital   ) I’d walk down a long hallway with  White Sterile Walls,  with the ever present Florescent lights buzzing and humming away. I walked all the way down the hallway to the very fucking end and there on my  right was a plain white door that lead into the again so called “Call Center” which was like nothing I had ever seen in my past Telemarking jobs, it was for one insanely quite. As we all know when Telemarketers call you there basically sitting in one large room surrounded by fellow Telemarketers who are all fielding phone calls. This creates a good bit of background noise that is identifiable to most people. This place was a quite as a fucking Tomb I kid you not.

Once through the door I found myself in a very small room (about the size of an average bedroom) where Telemarketers lined the perimeter of the walls instead of straight lines in cubicles as is the common practice. There were only a handful of employees most looked like fucking teenagers. I would walk across the room to a open doorway into a minuscule hallway about 3-4 feet long max. At the end of that mice hallway was the Supervisor’s Office.

The Supervisor was a fat, cranky, middle aged woman (50-55 years old approximately. She had a shitty attitude to boot. She was one of those type of people that act like they hate their job and their lives resenting both in the end. She reminded me more of a fucking Taxi Dispatcher than a Supervisor of any-fuckig-thing at all. Her fashion sense was non existent as she wore these hideous sudo Tommy Bahama shirts, the ones made from the cheapest of fabrics in a Sweat Shop by Children. Not only was the fabric of the lowest grade they had equally hideous patterns on them such as Tropical Themes, Loud obnoxious colors, and ridiculous abstract patterns that made you go “God thats fucking horrible, who the hell would wear that shit???” Anyway point is she was a badly dressed Asshole.

Across the tiny hallway there was another even smaller room that resembled a large bathroom (say in a Master Suit or Penthouse) and it too had Sterile Sanitarium White, there was absolutely nothing on the walls. There were no tacky motivational posters or crappy “Waiting Room” paintings. This was made more depressing by the fact there wasn’t a single fucking window so you felt sort of trapped like you were stuck in a Military Bunker not a Office. This almost claustrophobic room was where I was stationed so I didn’t have any real contact with my fellow Telemarketers it felt like being in fucking solitary confinement. My “desk” was just one of those run of the mill tables you see all the fucking time at large functions, Church events, School Fairs, Town Hall Meetings, for catering events etc. It was the mass produced piece of general use particle board with a fake wood top kind of like the Old School Station Wagons that had the bullshit wood side paneling. On my desk was only one thing a phone nothing else what so ever. It was like down at the Prison where they have the special phone for executions that is a direct line to the Governor.

Now this Telemarketing Firm didn’t do sales nor did it do surveys. I’m not honestly sure what the fuck they do as I wasn’t employed there long. While I was there though we were cold calling High Schools across the entire Nation. Why you may ask and with good reason. We were calling High Schools to Talk to a Gym Teacher because they teach Sex Ed/Health Class, and we were offering LARGE AMOUNTS of FREE SAMPLES. Now I know your interested because why would Telemarketers call High Schools to contact Gym Teachers due to the fact they teach Sex Ed/Health Classes. We were calling to offer these High Schools loads of Free MAXI PADS. Yes Maxi Pads, motherfucking Maxi Pads.

Every Gym Teacher I contacted told me ABSOLUTELY NO THANK YOU, and they all has the same reason too. The reason was simple logic see what do you think a High School worth of Students are going to do with Free Maxi Pads? They’re going to use them. Use them to Vandalize the Holy Hell out of the School I’m talking Floor to Ceiling, Wall to Wall, and End to End. This made perfect sense of course because if I was one of those High School students thats exactly what my Friends and I would do.

As you might imagine sitting in this half assed excuse for a office for 8 fucking hours a day 5 days a week hearing No after NO (even if there is a damn good reason to say NO) gets fucking depressing. Now this is what happened that led to my Firing. We had contact sheets and on the top was the Company offering Free Samples and what the promotion was all about. The lower half of the contact paper had a space for the High School and the Gym Teachers name that we spoke with. Lastly there was a final blank space for the total number of Boxes of the Free Samples to be shipped to said Schools.

After a while I decided if I got a Gym Teacher’s answering machine I’d write their name down and make up a number of orders. This went on for quite awhile. Then one day I got in and managed to find out (no thanks to my anti social introverted fellow employees) that the new girl was hired as a Fact Checker. Her one and only task was to double check our orders to make sure they were legitimate. Obviously my bullshit was catching up with me. I could have just quit the job (as most people would have at this point) cut and run before the shit hit the fucking fan, but I didn’t. I’m not sure why I remained there knowing the noose was tightening so to speak.

What I assume with great confidence (its the only logical reason for the Fact Checker Chick) that my bullshit orders were being shipped out to Schools who had not fucking clue, and the Gym Teach’s names were on the shipping label. Now either they were personally annoyed by this stunt or they were anxious because the Principle was pissed, and the Teacher wanted to avoid being fired. For whatever reason the Teachers were calling my Employer and demanding to know what the hell was going on. Then of course my befuddled Boss would have to apologize her ass off while simultaneously kissing the angry Gym Teachers ass as well. Needless to say my shenanigans were now pissing everyone from the Teachers to my Boss to Her Boss and above. Thats why my Boss and other Middle Management Morons had a brain storming session to find out how they could resolve the issue at had. Inevitably they came to the solution of hiring a Fact Checker to hunt down the guilty party at which point my Boss would take the hell over, and that employee would terminated immediately.

Finally my day of reckoning arrived rather swiftly I must say. The Fact Checker Chick had at last found the answer to the “Who is fucking around and causing Management a huge pain in the ass, and that guilty person was me. I got called into my bosses office and as I walked there I felt like I was the one in High School getting called into the Principal’s office. As I walked past my fellow feeble minded employees I made sure to let them know that I knew they knew and didn’t give a flying fuck. I did this by walking with a smugly sarcastic grin and if we made eye contact I stared them down like a dog with a “I’ll fuck you up, fuck anything or everything up and I SIMPLY DON’T CARE NOT IN THE LEAST.” glare because truth be told I didn’t. I fucking hated the job, the oppressing office, the bunch of brain dead dips hits I worked with, the Idiotically inconvenient commute, the miserable  Management, and my Bastard Son of a Bitch Boss Lady. I didn’t care about being fired I’ve been fired almost as much as I have quit jobs on the spot so I relished the whole overly dramatic display of inner office asshole authority.

My Boss walked me into her hoarder looking office and sat down behind her desk. She instructed me to sit and I said no I’ll stand thanks. That didn’t help her growing rage and thats what it was intended to do. She then launches into this tirade about the Company and their policies pertaining to shit like this. I just stood there looking at her with the “I really could care less about whatever it is you babbling about” look painted across my face. My soon to be Ex-Boss then started ranting about her personal views on the subject at hand which I found rather unprofessional. Since I didn’t give a Rat’s ass about what the Company had to say I sure a hell didn’t give a good goddamn. I thought to myself why not take the opportunity and tell this asshole what I thought because I was getting fired anyway so fuck it right?! I interrupted her mid speech and blurted out that as far as I was concerned this place was a fucking two bit, half assed excuse for a Telemarketing firm. Not even close to being done I continued on. Next I told her that she was a total shit and that her pissant Supervisor job at this 3 ring shit show was menial at best, and that she apparently hated her life (and that I couldn’t blame her) and took it out on other people because no one cares about her. Lastly I informed her I had absolutely and utterly NO REMORSE for my actions in fact I found the whole thing funny as fuck even me being fired. After that I just walked out and left fuck her, fuck them, fuck it not like there aren’t other jobs out there so ultimately I didn’t need this one.

Thanks For Reading,

Les Sober