Three school friends shoot a TikTok video
in a mansion owned by the famous Ol’ Billy Jo
Billy disappeared in the twenties or so
and the place is long boarded up, y’know
overgrown, roof blown, even a CROW
squawking on gateposts, to and fro
in your basic slasher-type scenario
the friends are Jake, Alice and Mo
they jemmy a clapperboard and in they go
Mo says Oh Jesus, God, NO!
Alice says don’t fuck with me, mofo
Jake says he’s just getting in character for the show
Alice says Oh
Sorry, it’s this goddamn creepy chateau
It’s really freaking me out, so
can we all agree to forego
the dickin’ around, just shoot and GO?
she’s right though
says Jake, shaking out the spooky throw
he’d brought for the clever, closing tableau
Mo says Okay listen, yo!
and gives a scenic blow-by-blow
as he turns on his GoPro
focuses on the window
and the beady-eyed crow!
the next thing you know
they’re colder than Froyo
and they try to run but can’t move their toes
like they’re paralysed, polaroid photos
while shape shifting shadows
coalesce in the porticos
then shriek in vibrato
Well – goodness me! HELLO!
My name’s Ol’ Billy Jo!

Cut to a cop in a black-and-white combo
night shifts are tedious – always so slow
plenty of time to practise his banjo
but he quickly chucks it for the radio
when a voice crackles on, says Hey, there, Monroe!
Get yourself over pretty quick n’pronto
to that place belonging to Ol’ Billy Jo
I think another hippy politico
has gone in where they shouldn’a go

So Monroe goes
pulls up outside Ol’ Billy Jo’s
gets out – sees the crow
says Hey Crow whaddya know?
shines his torch and in he goes…

God – this movie truly sucks
I can’t believe it cost ten bucks

I.

Xavier St John Brown
notorious circus clown
of edgily comic renown
disappears unexpectedly one night
in a cloud of confetti in a vicious clown fight
the ringmaster puts on the tent lights
they search the caravans, the grounds
but St John Brown
is nowhere to be found
all that’s left of him
is his tartan yellow hat with a brim
and his famous pair of yellow sneakers
with their horribly amplified squeakers
Fifty years later
a bunch of phi beta kappa
from St John’s alma mater
take a bet
to be the first ones yet
to spend the whole night
in a tent on the site
of St John’s disappearance
they immediately get interference
on their cell phones
a strange, squeaking tone
that gives them the heebie-jeebies
but they put down to wifi and 3Gs
as the night wears on
they get taken one by one
each in a way that’s both ghoulish
and foolish
the only one who survives
is plucky Helen McGyves
who forces a laugh
when he starts his mime about a bath
St John bows, and cries
and struggles to wipe his eyes
with a tissue that turns into a line of flags
and suddenly the tent sags
and Helen dives
as the cops arrive
but when they tentatively lift the flap
the chief of police takes off his cap
I guess you’d say that clown was evil
but we’ll know a lot more when they make the sequel

II.

A secret military facility
gets breached unwittingly
by Lucy, a virology professor
lost in bad weather
who gets infected by a virus
that makes her titanically toothy and fibrous
more consumed with rage
than just about any professor I know of her age
she goes on the rampage
tossing down troops and tanks
who might as well be firing blanks
till the city gets saved
by a particularly brave
doctoral intern
called Vern
who survives just long enough
to mix something strong enough
to bring Lucy back
from this viral attack
before they all get juiced
by the warheads let loose
from megalomaniacal General Scrutton
raging all day with his finger on the button