The Subterfuge - Part IX

A long, long time ago there was a beautiful Flip Flop Princess residing in a glorious land of superbness with her equally beautiful twin Flip Flop Princess sister, whom we’ll call Sandal Princess for the sake of clarity. Now, although Flip Flop Princess seemed to have everything that a Flip Flop Princess could want, she was constantly jealous that her mother loved Sandal Princess far more. And also Mother had a horrid hamster-dog hybrid that unbeknownst to Mother constantly attacked and otherwise tried to defile Flip Flop Princess in unspeakable manners.

Well, one day Flip Flop Princess had had enough. She saw the opportunity to escape the neglectful eye of Mother and go off on a glorious new adventure filled with flowers and treats and candy and most of all, no vile hamster-dog hybrids. And so Flip Flop Princess surreptitiously stole away into a land of grand new possibilities.

Mother amazingly noticed Flip Flop Princess’s absence almost immediately. It was too bad that the discovery wasn’t immediate, for then maybe Mother would have been able to stop Flip Flop Princess from running off. And then even worse than failing to prevent Flip Flop Princess’s escape, she accused the land’s greatest Hero, Hero, of having abducted Flip Flop Princess. The horror of having been accused by Mother of having kidnapped the land’s beloved Flip Flop Princess drove Hero into a deep depression.

But there was really no depression, feigned or real. Hero after all never really cared for the insignificant Flip Flop Princess. And instead of using his great strength and courage to seek out and save Flip Flop Princess, Hero did nothing because he didn’t care and he realized that it wasn’t as if Flip Flop Princess was irreplaceable.

Eventually, however, Hero had a change of heart and used his great strength and courage to help Mother to discover to where Flip Flop Princess had run off. But this is only partly true as Hero had no change of heart. Many doubted whether Hero possessed a heart at all. Nevertheless Hero endeavored to bring Flip Flop Princess back from the far off land. But what end did Hero’s aid truly serve? Had Hero unbeknownst to Mother made a secret pact with Villainy?

Journal Entry: Did you see that? Did you see how I used the word unbeknownst twice in one email? That’s a personal best by two unbeknownsts I believe. I also created the word superbness, so please do congratulate me. And did you see that? That’s a second usage of the word superbness, a word, I’d like to reiterate, that I created myself. That’s a new personal best and a new world record by my count of three superbnesses, since after all I did create the word. And did you get that? I’m now up to three unbeknownsts, two unbeknownstses (including the one in this sentence), three superbnesses, and two superbnesseses (including the one in this sentence). Ooooh damn! Did I just make up two more words…

The Subterfuge - Part VIII

It was a late Thursday night (indeed, it was certainly early Friday morning by this point) not unlike any early Friday morning for me, and I had just pulled into the drive-thru of the one and only Taco Cabana (okay, of course there is more than one Taco Cabana out there, thankfully, because I would hate to see the line at the drive-thru at the Taco Cabana if it was the only one. It would be madness. There would probably be riots. Nightly. Or probably morningly.) to pick up the Usual, a double order of huevos rancheros.

Now, I was getting a little bit annoyed because I had made an extra effort to get out of bed to get over to Taco Cabana by long before 2 am. I figured that if I got there by 1:45 am, I would sail through the drive-thru with no problem. Silly me, I was forgetting that this was the Taco Cabana.

As my wait in line before even ordering began to approach fifteen minutes, I began considering doing the drastic: getting out of my car and walking up to those ahead of me in line and tossing them out of their cars and then driving their cars off somewhere else, anywhere else, but not in that line. Fortunately for those in the cars in front of me, this did not have to be done.

But when I got to the intercom to order, and after I had already ordered the Usual (the double order of huevos rancheros), for some reason I actually looked at the menu and I beheld listed there the Big Cabana Bowl! I was intrigued, very intrigued. I was intrigued enough to order the Big Cabana Bowl.

Upon arriving home, rather than digging into one of the orders of huevos rancheros as is customary, I went after the Big Cabana Bowl. And do you know how it was? It was delicious. I wish that I could say that I finished it there in that one sitting, but this was the Big Cabana Bowl after all and sadly I must admit that I was defeated on that occasion. So I put the remains of the Big Cabana Bowl in the refrigerator knowing that I would perhaps dream of finishing that Big Cabana Bowl a few short hours later that morning.

A few short hours later, I did wake up and I did finish that Big Cabana Bowl. And this is precisely where this story meets its end. I had made the new discovery of the Big Cabana Bowl at Taco Cabana and at that point, endless possibilities instantly opened in my world…

Journal Entry: And you thought the Big Cabana Bowl story was over. How silly of you. Because the very observant of you will have noted that there was still the matter of the double order of ranchos huervos that had gone uneaten. Well, I promptly took care of one of those Friday evening. And then, I truly wrapped everything up by finishing off the second one Saturday morning. But the “Usual” has taken on an entirely different meaning…

The Subterfuge - Part VII

…and you would never guess what the new dynamic duo is up to now…

One of the things that I have come to realize that I missed most about not having written the happy hour emails the past couple of years is that I missed out on some truly great pop culture/celebrity-type greatness, like the emergence of the whole Speidi phenomenon! Yes, friends, the Spencer Pratt/Heidi Montag power couple known as Speidi (yet another of those absolutely fantastic and original celebrity couple name portmanteaux that we all love) was something that completely escaped my notice until just a few short months ago.

First I learned that Heidi and Spencer had gotten married, and I thought to myself, wow; that’s fantastic! And I obviously wished the couple a long and happy marriage… But then I said to myself, wait, who the hell are Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt? That’s right! Believe it or not, I had absolutely no knowledge about either of them. And so I had to do my research the only way I know how, and I went to the Wikipedia and to my horror I discovered that the years I had gone without watching the MTV had caused me to miss out on some quality television like Laguna Beach and The OC and The Hills. I cannot be totally sure, but upon skimming one of the Speidi power-couple’s pages I discovered that the two are the main stars of one or more of those programs, which may or may not be reality shows. (And based on the trend that I have heard about in TV these days, I’m going to guess that all of those aforementioned programs are reality shows, as real as reality ever gets.)

But the next thing that I heard about them was that they were appearing in the latest edition of I’m a Celebrity…Get Me out of Here!(!)!! This was the second season of this particular show with the first having taken place in 2003. But why did it take six years between the first and second seasons of this show? Well, it certainly was not because the show was crap. No! It was obviously because all of the celebrities in Hollywood have just been so busy over the years that there were just none available for another season until now.

And did they ever gather a superb cast this time! Obviously Speidi headlined the group of celebrities, but they were also able to get not one, but two Baldwins to appear! To make a long story short, somebody won and a lot of other people lost. I’m not really sure how it turned out, but if you were allowed to bet on who would win such competitions after the fact, I would certainly have to bet on Speidi. I’ve convinced myself that Speidi won the competition…or maybe Alec Baldwin.

But silly me, I’ve almost forgotten why I started to write this in the first place (I mean other than because of my newfound love and admiration for Speidi). Well, it seems that Speidi, er…Heidi is lined up to sing at the Miss Universe Pageant this year. And by this year, I mean right now – as I type this. Obviously I would be watching the pageant if I had any way of finding out on what channel it is airing. Too bad. Well, the best part about this dynamic duo is that you get two for the price of one! And in this case, part of the price pays for Heidi to sing and the other part earns you the right to watch Spencer sunbathe! How can things possibly get better than this? (I hesitate to imagine.)

I’m Cabral Williams, and I want to officially announce the arrival of Speidi.

Journal Entry: I’m sorry but the Dynamic Duo – Speidi – have certainly replaced the Wonder Twins – Britney Spears and Kevin Federline – on my radar. The reason is that the Wonder Twins just haven’t really come up with any sort of great exploits lately. I mean if you want to get back to the top, Wonder Twins, you have to come back with something much more impressive than I’m a Celebrity…Get Me out of Here! and singing at Miss Universe/sunbathing on the stage at Miss Universe. Those heroics are tough to beat, I know, but you certainly can do it!

The Subterfuge - Part VI

There’s been a not insignificant amount of criticism of the subject matter of the happy hour emails. (Okay, maybe “not insignificant” is not the proper way of describing the criticism as the notion of “significance” is open to interpretation, but let’s just move on…) Apparently, it seems, there were at least a few people who were less than thrilled that my emails did not take the sort of Us Weekly/Seventeen magazine tone, and so I’ve decided to put my epic autobiographical story on hold for the time being.

So what will I be discussing on this occasion? Why, I just happened to be watching the VH1 channel Sunday night and happened to catch sizeable portions of the shows My Antonio and Real Chance of Love 2. Just to explain the programs briefly, both of them are The Bachelor-type shows: several women compete for the affections of the guy as he eliminates them from the competition as the season progresses.

Let’s face it; there is much that is stupid about these VH1 shows, just as I’m sure there is much that is stupid about The Bachelor. (And it should come as no surprise that I’ve never watched any of this crappy show.) But the thing about the VH1 shows is that they are part of the network’s so-called Celebreality lineup. Celebreality is of course a portmanteau (and I do love that word portmanteau) of the words celebrity and reality. And I guess My Antonio can be considered a reality show featuring a celebrity, that is, if you consider Antonio Sabato, Jr. a celebrity. I mean, I definitely consider former-Calvin-Klein-underwear-model-former-soap-opera-actors real celebrities, or celebreal. (Do you like that? I just made it up. I think…) It’s not that much different from indicted former House Majority Leaders appearing on Dancing with the Stars, I guess…

But the Real Chance of Love is even more celebreal. You have two brothers nicknamed Real and Chance coincidentally who are obviously well known for being members of the rap group The Stallionaires. Now they are the bachelor stars of Real Chance of Love, which was spawned by the VH1 Celebreality show I Love New York, which was spawned by the VH1 Celebreality show Flavor of Love, which was spawned by the VH1 Celebreality show Strange Love, which was spawned by the VH1 Celebreality show The Surreal Life. You of course know The Surreal Life as the show that brought together many celebrities to live in a house together in a fashion similar to what took place in MTV’s The Real World. And the list of big time stars who appeared on The Surreal Life includes…and…and…and…and… What a phenomenal group!

Alright I’m done with this. All of these shows are stupid, and not just the VH1 shows. The Bachelor is stupid, Dancing with the Stars is stupid, and all of the others are stupid as well. They’re all dumb. The derivative nature of these programs shows laziness and lack of originality. I think I’m going back to my story next week…

Journal Entry: And now my commentary about the Paula Abdul American Idol situation. There is of course a long version and a short version and several in-between versions. You’re lucky enough to get both the short version (I don’t care and neither should you) and one of the in-between versions. I don’t care because this show is crap. Is everyone on the show wonderfully overpaid? Yes. Should the viewers of the show boycott the program if they feel that Abdul is not paid a ridiculously high enough salary to put her on par with the ridiculously high salaries others on the show are making? Well, since I don’t watch the show, I don’t care. It’s up to them, though, if they want to waste that time. Goodness knows they’ve already ewasted enough time watching this stupid show in the first place. And so there you have it.

The Subterfuge - Part V

…and taking one final glance back before turning into the entrance of my secret headquarters, I was at last satisfied that I was no longer being pursued. It was a good thing, too, because even I was getting a little annoyed with having to singlehandedly fight two bears. It wasn’t difficult, mind you, just annoying.

As I pulled into the driveway, Humpty Dumpty was there waiting for me. I could see a rather large crack on the side of his head from which some fluid had started to leak. I knew the answer before I even asked, but went ahead anyway.

“Mr. Dumpty, um…um, did you fall down again?”

“Yesh,” he replied after a few moments’ pause.

“Well, you’re going to have to wait until after I unload these two before I repair you.”

“I helph,” he said as he started to walk to join me at the side of the truck and rather predictably, fell and hit his head again, making the crack far worse. Of course, I thought, but stayed focused on my two guests.

So I opened up the flatbed portion of the truck and picked up the golden haired girl. There were quite a few twigs and leaves that had fallen on her and were littered throughout her hair and clothing, caused by the drive through the woods. I knew that she was a tough girl and could handle it and so I carried her inside and placed her on the bed inside one of my guest rooms.

Walking back out to the truck, I took a glance over at Humpty Dumpty before going to unload my other guest. I could see that not only had Humpty Dumpty’s “yolk” started to pool on the ground, I could see as evidenced by a “yolk” stain on the side of the truck that Mr. Dumpty had made at least one futile effort to rise to his feet. Crap, I thought, I was going to have to wash the truck now, too. I knew that I had to find a permanent solution to this Humpty Dumpty problem.

I opened up the back door to the truck and unfastened the seatbelt that secured the little bear. As I did this, the bear started to stir from its slumber. “Are you okay there, little guy?” I asked not knowing for sure whether it was a boy or girl bear. “Sorry for hitting all of those bumps as I was driving over here,” I added as I carried him/her inside and placed him/her on a bed inside another guest room.

I then walked back out and stared at the wriggling Humpty Dumpty. How do I deal with this problem? Then an idea suddenly came to my mind and I went and grabbed my tools and went to work. After a few minutes, I had constructed a walker for Humpty Dumpty, not unlike the ones you find babies walking about in. The wheels were the hardest part to get perfect.

And so I carefully rolled Humpty Dumpty away from the truck and gently went to work cleaning the mess he had made. After finishing, I took a step back and admired the newly cleaned façade of the truck. And then I looked down at the ground and said to myself, “Oh right, Humpty Dumpty,” as I realized that I was now standing in his “yolk” that was seeping onto the ground.

Now I was going to have to clean my boots too…

Journal Entry: Truth be told, Humpty Dumpty is starting to annoy me quite a bit. He is just way too clumsy and I’m tired of having to deal with cleaning up egg yolk and patching up eggshells. He might have to have a little accident in which he’s accidentally left near a frying pan in a room with a hungry bear or a hungry golden haired girl.

The Subterfuge - Part IV

…and following the directions given to me, I came upon what was believed to be the cave home of the elusive and legendary Sasquatch. I entered thinking that I needed only to await the arrival of my prey…

But as I explored the cave looking for a proper hiding spot, it became clear to me that more than one Sasquatch lived there. There were very crude settings that looked like that of a dining area, if you consider stones suitable chairs and rock slabs suitable plates. A bit more curious than I probably should have been, I walked through this “table” area and noted that while the large and medium sized slabs were still filled with this…food, the smallest slab had been wiped clean. Picking up the largest slab, which was still slightly warm, I certainly realized why this and the medium sized slab were still full. The smell was repulsive, and I could only assume the taste was the same. This nastiness certainly could not have been stomached by Sasquatches.

Putting the slab down, I could faintly see toward the back of the cave what must have been the bedroom area, where the “beds” were located. And by “beds” I mean thin layers of grass and other vegetation lying on the ground. Since this was indeed a cave, naturally the lighting was not the best, but I was able to see as I approached the beds that a small lump did lay upon one of them. My first thought was that Sasquatches are evidently as irresponsible of some humans, having left their child home alone. But as I shone my light closer on the lump, I noticed it to be a golden haired adolescent girl.

Before I was able to do anything else, I heard loud noises behind me and I reacted by diving through the air and somersaulting behind a rather large boulder that must have been a night stand. (Sorry, I was not yet an expert on Sasquatch furniture.) By the light of the cave mouth I could see the silhouettes of what appeared not to be three Sasquatches walking in, but instead those of three bears (!!!)!

There was some anger, and not a small bit of thrashing about the dining area, when the bears realized that the smallest bear’s Sasquatch, er…, bear food had been eaten. As the noise of the angry bears grew louder, and as they walked toward the back of the cave, the golden haired girl awoke and screamed in terror (okay, I assume it was terror). With only moments to act, I lifted my tranquilizer gun and fired.

One, two, three, four! And why did I fire four shots? Did I miss? Of course not, there was one shot for each of the bears and one shot for the golden haired girl. I went over and scooped up the passed out little girl and dragged the comatose baby bear out of the cave. Once I had them loaded in the truck I got on the phone. I told Humpty Dumpty that while I did not find Sasquatch, I did recruit a couple more to the cause. I could not make out for sure what Humpty Dumpty said in response as the connection was rather poor, and Humpty Dumpty still had not learned to speak without slurring…

Journal Entry: Okay, some of you have been made aware over the years of my general disdain for the stupid Geico commercials, particularly the ones dealing with the stupid “cavemen.” Leaving the “cavemen” aside for the moment, the commercials are stupid because of the phrase “fifteen minutes could save you 15% on your car insurance,” or whatever the exact phrase was. But do you know what? I’m guessing fifteen minutes could also save you 20%. Fifteen minutes could also save you 25% on your car insurance. Or, gasp, fifteen minutes could save you nothing. Stupid. Now getting back to the “cavemen,” they were and are not cavemen because they didn’t and don’t live in caves. But they could perhaps be Sasquatches.

The Subterfuge - Part III

…and as I succeeded with incredible ease in reassembling the pieces, I realized that one of two things had to be true; (1) the king’s men who were assigned to the task were idiots or (2) the king was an idiot for putting his horses in charge of his men in putting Humpty Dumpty back together again. Or it was very likely that both were true…

I mean, as potential additional proof of my second hypothesis, the fact that this king had elevated an eggman to such a lofty position in his court (why else would he care whether Humpty Dumpty was put together again?) should have caused some to at least wonder whether (if not actually verbalize the concerns that) the king might be a fool. And then again in support of the first hypothesis, there were only seven pieces of Humpty Dumpty. There are honestly not that many ways in which you can arrange seven pieces of eggman shell. Heck, it took me about seven minutes to finish the task once I had started, and five of those minutes were consumed by me drinking a 40 oz. of Olde English 800. (I know, it wasn’t a record, but I had my attention divided as I was truly worried about Humpty Dumpty.)

Now granted, after I had finished with the reassembly, Humpty Dumpty did not quite look as eggman-like as I would have expected. He lacked smoothness and was a little wobbly. (And I feel that I should point out at this moment that neither of these things is attributable to the fact that I may or may not have had a buzz going after finishing the 40.)

But there was something else that suddenly occurred to me that most certainly contributed to Humpty Dumpty’s wobbliness. As I was working on the reassembly (when I wasn’t drinking), I tried to include as much of the insides of Mr. Dumpty as I could. (I was very pleased to see that the king had had his horses and men save this portion of Mr. Dumpty as well.) However, trying to handle eggman insides with your bare hands is particularly messy, and the only other tool that I had at my disposal was a giant fork. I’m not sure why it was there, and it definitely wasn’t the most effective item to use in trying to gather up the yolk-like insides of an eggman, but I certainly preferred using this as opposed to soiling my hands. The bottom line is that since I was a little rusty on eggman anatomy, I wasn’t sure what parts of Mr. Dumpty ended up being left out.

What seemed to be the case was that what was excluded contributed in some meaningful way to Mr. Dumpty’s coherent thought as once assembled he made absolutely no sense. It didn’t matter; I had the chief advisor for my force. (Who else would I have selected? He had clearly advised a king at one time – although it was most likely an idiotic king – despite his current shortcomings.)

Who would I look for next?

Journal Entry: For those waiting to hear how I saved baseball, sorry, I got bored with that storyline and so I’ve decided to postpone it perhaps indefinitely. And for the record, I’m not really sorry about doing so. I just said that to assuage your hurt feelings. But since I probably don’t really care about your feelings, I hereby withdraw the fake apology.

The Subterfuge - Part II

…and after having perfected my creation, a super potent steroid, I took solace in secretly knowing that I would be the savior of baseball.

But being the incredibly modest person that I am, I wanted to remain in anonymity and so I passed off the steroid for manufacture and distribution to one who will remain nameless. At times, though, I permitted the Nameless One to ask me steroid related questions. It seemed only fair.

On one occasion, the Nameless One asked, “Oh great Steroid Master, how did you perfect this grand steroid?” It was a very good question. As I went through the process of developing the formula, I needed subjects on which to test the various formulas. So I tested it on numerous neighborhood animals – dogs, cats, opossums, birds, and finally, hamster-dogs, among others. I obtained valuable information from this, and it finally came time to test it on humans.

I was all set to inject myself with the steroid when it occurred to me that this was terribly unfair. And why was this unfair? I was already routinely pummeling my younger brother and sister whenever we fought, and this would only make the beatings I dished out more severe. And being the good big brother who cared dearly about the wellbeing of my younger siblings, I felt I needed to protect them from my savage beatings.

And so I gave the steroid to my brother and sister, and what happened? Well, it certainly toughened them up, as I knew that it would. (Because heck, if it toughened up something as wimpy as the hamster-dog, I knew that it would have to work on people.) Mind you, the outcome did not change on any of those occasions that it was necessary for me to provide a little tough love, but at least my brother and sister were no longer quite as maimed. It brings a tear to my eye when I think about how much stronger I made them… Wait a minute, where was I going with this?

Oh right! Crap! Saving baseball! I suppose that story might have to wait until next time…

Preview: Wait a second, I had this grand plan to launch the campaign to have Jose Canseco elected as the next president of the United States. Yes, that Jose Canseco. Through Canseco I would lead a puppet regime, with Canseco as my puppet leader. But now people are saying that evidently a person must be born in this country to be president? Then what good is Canseco to me now?

The Subterfuge - Part I

…and that was when I finally convinced all of the world’s supposed academics of their unconscionable lunacy in continuing to hold to their misguided belief that Pluto was a planet.

Unfortunately, the unenviable task of telling all of the assembled Plutonian visitors that since they did not come from an actual planet, they did not actually exist also fell on my shoulders. It was heartbreaking – not for me, but rather I suppose it would have been heartbreaking for all of those Plutonians if they had hearts that existed.

But even more daunting and unnerving than having to worry about telling the Plutonians that they did not exist was dealing with the Plutonians’ Plutonian pets. You see, even though the Plutonians did not exist, they did at least have consciousnesses (which I suppose probably technically did not exist either) and after some time I was able to finally convince them all (indeed, some were a little bit slower to understand than others – they are not unlike human beings in this regard) that hey, you don’t come from a real planet and so you aren’t real.

The pets, of course, had no consciousnesses. And so this fact created quite the ruckus when the Plutonians, to whom the Plutonian pets were slavishly devoted (as is the case with real pets and their owners), were gone. So how did I solve this problem?

Well, as anyone can tell, certain pets happen to be a lot smarter than others. Then again, certain pets happen to not be so bright. And the Plutonians happened to have pets that were mostly of the doglike variety, meaning of course that these pets were not very bright. Thus most of these pets were easily dealt with with the old throw an imaginary ball into the street and let the pet chase it trick. (Now it just occurred to me that maybe since these pets themselves were not real, maybe they could see the imaginary balls that I was throwing. An interesting idea to ponder…) Now what happened when the pets ran into the streets? Well, they got hit by cars of course. (And I must say that I was particularly stunned at the eagerness of one particular little black Plutonian dog named Yelir to run without hesitation into the streets. I got the feeling that this dog would have been fooled by anything…)

Everything was going splendidly when I came to one particular peculiar looking dog. Regardless of how many times I tried to throw this imaginary ball, this dog just did not seem to want to chase it. I was getting a little frustrated when I finally decided to take a closer look at this dog. Upon closer inspection, I realized that this “dog” was in fact a hamster-dog hybrid. I know! That sounds impossible to believe. A hamster-dog hybrid cannot possibly be real (and of course it wasn’t since it was a Plutonian pet), although I can recall having seen a similar sort of creature once before in real life.

Well, it was clear that the dog instincts of the pet were not dominant so I decided that it was best to test out the animal’s hamster instincts. I thought for a moment, what could possibly lure this animal out into the street? And then it occurred to me: a hamster wheel! And so I set up an imaginary hamster wheel in the street (making sure to look both ways before walking out there – it’s important to always do this) and then walked back to the sidewalk.

With everything in place, I now had to get the hamster-dog’s attention. And so I called out to it, “Here Pako! Here Pako! Hamster wheel!” And just as I had hoped, the little hamster-dog went running out to the hamster wheel, jumped on as I turned and walked away never to worry about this little problem again.

The End.

Preview: And before you ask, no, I didn’t watch the baseball all-star game last night. And I also didn’t watch the homerun derby the night before. (In fact, I don’t even know who won the homerun contest.) Baseball just doesn’t hold the same interest for me as it did since this whole steroid “controversy” started up. If you have a problem with that, I don’t care, deal with it.

Everyone Head for the Video Store!

Okay so I'm super thrilled about the coming release (July 7th, to be precise) of the movie The Unborn on DVD and Blu-ray! I had so, so, so wanted to see...

You know what, damn it. I cannot even really pretend with this one. The movie looked awful when they were promoting it back in January, and it similarly looks awful now as for the last few days and weeks I've seen seemingly endless numbers of promotions about this wretched film's imminent release. The only thing that this film has going for it is that it has some really hot girl as the lead actress and that was evidently good enough to sucker fools around the world into spending nearly $76 million to waste at least eight-seven minutes of their lives. (You see, I did my wikipedia research.)

But why am I even bringing this up now? Well, it occurred to me the other day that the movie depictions that they have made make absolutely no sense. The Unborn is supposed to be this girl's unborn twin, right? So why in heavens is this girl in her late teens to early twenties and her unborn twin some kid that is no more than about ten years old? I mean seriously, if you wanted this film to be in anyway plausible and to have a chance at garnering the coveted Cabral Williams Seal of Approval, then you had one of two choices: either have the girl haunted by some sort of fetus looking thing or have her haunted by some dude roughly her same age.

Okay, so I guess using a fetus looking thing probably would have carried too much of a gross factor with it, but come on, having this girl haunted by a fetus would have been awesome! Okay, no it would not have been awesome; it would have been stupid. But the movie as it was made was stupid anyway. The only other plausible choice was to use an actor to play the unborn twin who is around the same age as this girl. Obviously there are quite a number of dudes out there that could have filled that frightening/creepy role. Heck, it did not take me very long to find one!