Missed episode three? Here it is.
Want to watch along? Here are part one and part two.
For this combo, I wish to honor a character that appears on screen for only a few seconds, but nevertheless made a big impression on me.
To make this frothy… thing… you’ll need:
- 1 oz. creme de cacao (I used Arrow brand… what of it?)
- 1/2 oz. cherry liqueur (Heering)
- 1/2 oz. cinnamon schnapps (Goldschläger)
- 1 oz. heavy cream
- 1 tsp. hot sauce (to start, more if desired) (Texas Pete)
- crushed red pepper flakes for garnish
- Combine creme de cacao, cherry liqueur, cinnamon schnapps, heavy cream, and hot sauce in shaker with ice cubes.
- Shake that thing, baby.
- Pour liquid into martini glass.
- Garnish with red pepper flakes.
- Pray to your deity of choice if you’re sensitive to hot sauce.
Serves 1 person who’s about to get a tongue beating
They can’t all be winners, so this one gets a participation trophy. A spicy take on the Pink and Brown Squirrel drinks, this one can be modified for varying degrees of ass-kicking. The single teaspoon of hot sauce is enough to give the drink a kick, but more than a tablespoon may have you scrambling for the rest of that heavy cream.
I’ll be honest. This isn’t my favorite of the entire Demo Reel batch. But the couple of people brave enough to try it enjoyed the mild spiciness and, surprisingly to me, liked the sweetness the cerise offered. I chose cherry liqueur because I’d read it was almost medicinally bitter, which I thought would complement the spiciness. My taste testers instead picked up cherry flavor.
In any case, I consider this to be a “dare drink,” the kind you make your buddy down with the promise of buying the next round. But you may enjoy sweet, creamy drinks with a kick. Either way, enjoy an Angry Squirrel as we get lost in another Demo Reel episode.
The first part opens with Tacoma looking straight into the camera, giving this exchange a kind of uncomfortable intimacy from the get-go.
TACOMA: Donnie, if you’re seeing this, I just want you to know… I’m sorry. We’re both sorry. We didn’t know! How could we? But just know… we get it now. We get it… Sort of.
The screen goes black as Tacoma turns off the camera. He must have dug up something especially juicy if he has to apologize via video.
Next we see Donnie coming to on an autumn-stripped forest floor. He flails about—somehow, I get the feeling this is a normal way for him to wake up most mornings—and tries to make sense of his whereabouts.
He finds the camera. Confusion, familiarity, then concern flash on his face before he picks up the only friend he has on this misadventure.
DONNIE: Okay, don’t panic. Don’t panic.
*nervous silence*
DONNIE: *anguished squeak*
After the title card, we’re immediately faced with the leader of the YouTube bottom feeders.
MR. D-BAG: Donnie DuPre will no longer be a nuisance to us. After my associates picked him up at gunpoint from the airport, they dropped him off in the middle of the woods where nobody can find him. Let’s just say that the troubling nature of Demo Reel and Donnie DuPre will no longer be on our radars. *tender, watery laugh*
This is beyond the pale for Swaggy’s minions. Harassing their ditzy counterpart with vague bodily harm and dreaming up revenge schemes is one thing, but kidnapping and abandoning him? The minions leave, with one of them deciding to become an internet reviewer since “they’re mentally stable.” So precious.
Back at Demo Reel, Tacoma wakes up with a camera aimed at his face. Nothing unusual about that. Traditional Mexican music plays somewhere in the office. Not common, I’m guessing, but still nothing weird. But the massive headache that appears to be ravaging his head may be out of the ordinary.
TACOMA: Rebecca?… You alive?
REBECCA: No…
TACOMA: Augh, me too.
Come to find out, something happened at headquarters. Tacoma is dressed as Belle from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, Rebecca is wearing a white shirt with MALCOVICH = BALLS in marker, and Quinn wound up in the toilet (actually inside the bowl) with a sombrero hanging off his neck by the strap.
The triptych doesn’t feel the same without Donnie, but I’ll settle for Quinn’s bare arms in the place of Donnie’s face. If you’ll allow me a moment of female thirst: Rowr.
The investigative journalist gets to digging. On Donnie’s computer, he finds footage they had recorded from the past three days. Among them is the introduction we saw in the beginning. Then there’s this:
It’s also dedicated to some guy named James. Quinn says the only James he knows is Jameson and “it’s about time somebody dedicated something to the bottle.” Ha ha, effortless stereotyping.
The skeleton crew had made a movie sometime during their three-day blackout. Tacoma hopes that watching it and their other videos will give them answers about what happened at home base, but most importantly, find out what happened to Donnie.
Three days ago, Carl had called headquarters from a parking lot located near a highway. Getting no help, the angry German threatened to neuter the Irishman if he ever dipped into his alcoholic stash. With all the force a thumb could provide, Carl angrily tapped out of the phone app.
On the other end of the message in present time, Quinn calmly reports back to Tacoma and Rebecca. Wherever Carl’s call originated, some bad static got in the way, and so Quinn has no idea of his genitals’ endangerment. With no clear clue about Carl and Donnie’s situation, Tacoma plays the footage.
The color footage backtracks us to three days before, at the moment when the gang heard the weird crash-splosion. Rebecca snatches Quinn’s gun and runs toward the source of the sound, screaming seconds later.
Tacoma and Quinn hurry to her rescue, coming face to face with one of the tenants, Fabrizio (played by Brian Heinz). A rather large fellow, he also packs an air of intimidation, illustrated very well with a disconcertingly bloody butcher’s knife.
FABRIZIO: I was, uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, making marinara sauce.
TACOMA: This late?
FABRIZIO: I’m a hungry man!
Rebecca invites the harmless tenant to join them in getting rip roaring drunk while they defend themselves against the shadowy moviemakers. I’m assuming the bloody blade is also invited.
Checking back in with Donnie, he is still nowhere closer to rescuing himself. Bless his heart, he’s trying by improvising with his movie knowledge.
DONNIE: So, I’ve been saying to myself, “What would The Blair Witch Project do?” And then just do the exact opposite of that, because those kids were [bleep]-ing idiots!
After watching both parts, reader, you’ll come to the conclusion that even the dumbasses in The Blair Witch Project were more productive than Donnie.
But this was where my writer senses started tingling. What were Donnie’s chances of surviving in a North American deciduous forest during a dry winter? I pulled out all the wilderness survival and medical manuals I have and narrowed the best choice down to Les Stroud’s Survive! (Harper Collins, 2008).
Early in the book, Stroud expounds on the importance of signalling before attempting anything else. Have a signal ready so while you’re constructing a lean-to, an aircraft above could spot your message and rescue you, sparing you days (or weeks) in the wild.
In fact, on page 64, Stroud talks about phones:
(It’s blurry along the right edges because I’m not destroying a book spine to get a better scan.)
Donnie very well could have texted for help. This does bring up the question why SWAG would leave Donnie his cell phone, but really, the Great White Silhouette isn’t that impressive a villain.
But it does bring up another question: Why didn’t Carl go to the authorities for help? The reason could be as mundane as the Walkers wanting to go with the more outlandish option of Carl tracking down Donnie himself and foregoing any professional assistance, but let’s look at this in-universe. Given his suspect background, Carl may not trust the authorities… or the police could investigate him.
In any case, if cooler heads were prevailing, Donnie may have gotten home sooner if he had simply texted someone.
What’s this? A sign of civilization? Donnie finds a dirty glass bottle at the base of a tree.
DONNIE: We got a bottle, people, a bottle! Okay, you know what that means? That means civilization! There’s people out here! Okay, I’m gonna read it and see if I can get more information. Uh, let’s see… “Army of Northern Virginia, Confederate States of America”… I… don’t think… that’s… a good sign…
Dude, first of all, that military force disbanded in 1865. Second of all, even if it were still in operation, your whitebread butt is safe. Third of all, what is a Civil War era bottle doing in an Illinoisian forest?
Somewhat discouraged, Donnie tramples on, hoping that Rebecca and Tacoma are doing okay without him.
They’re doing more than okay. Danger from a seemingly unstoppable menace nothing, there’s drinking to be done! It’s Rebecca vs Fabrizio, and the svelte actress bests the rotund monolith. It could be that Rebecca ate some of the non-mobster’s spaghetti and delectable marinara sauce to absorb all that alcohol. Not to mention those tasty meatballs, so flavorful and rich and not made from human meat, I’ll bet.
Back in the middle of nowhere, Donnie has met more failure. Making fire with two wet sticks has produced nothing but frustration.
DONNIE: So, I’ve, uh, spent the last four hours trying to build a fire by rubbing two sticks together. Uh, found out… doesn’t really work when everything is so wet. *deep sigh* I only saw it work once on Pawn Stars. Chumlee tried it, it was pretty funny. He won a bet. Uh, not so funny? Uh, trying to keep cool by the light of your cell phone.
“[T]rying to keep cool by the light of your cell phone.” I didn’t mistype it, but I did listen to that line several times to make sure I didn’t mishear it. I’m sure Doug misspoke, but I’m going with a head canon explanation of Donnie showing the first signs of going crazy.
But, yes, Donnie has assembled tinder for his nonexistent fire. It’s a sad little pile of dead leaves and wispy twigs and branches. If he wasn’t going to text or call for help, Donnie could have dismantled his phone and tried to make a fire from the battery. But besides dry tinder, this would have also required steel wool or aluminum foil rolled into a U to touch the exposed connectors of the battery.
Or he could have punctured the battery to release flammable gas… but would that have done anything? Besides possibly disintegrate Donnie wholesale?
While he curses his phone for its “stupid energy saver”—I guess changing that option in the settings was too strenuous—a mischievous giggling floats through the dark forest. Donnie stands at attention, calling out for help. All that replies is the bodiless laughter.
DONNIE: God, I hope that’s a female.
Later the next day, Donnie has come to the incredible realization that he needs to eat for survival. He’s gathered acorns and leaves, “dug a little hole, and just set a little trap for a little woodland friend.”
Wouldn’t you know it? The trap snags a squirrel. Donnie merrily runs to capture his little game. Before you go thinking this is beginner’s luck, a shocked growl-cry sounds off-screen. Our bumbling hero has discovered that squirrels “are natural jumpers,” and the little prey escaped the trap.
Miffed and insulted by one of nature’s furry children, Donnie tracks the little bastard down to a not so little tree and is about to attempt climbing when—
Showing more mettle than SWAG, the squirrel drops down and gives Donnie clawy, bitey hell. After the attack, Donnie resumes stumbling through the woods, a little wiser and perhaps with a touch of rabies.
DONNIE: Y’know, I heard squirrels are poisonous, I’m not gonna do this.
A turkey, now a squirrel. I’d hate to see what an ant farm would do to you, buddy. A pet rock would probably stone you on its own.
On a personal note, this was my all-time favorite moment in the entire series. The first time I watched this, I was lying on the floor, leaning my head against a body pillow. When the squirrel suddenly appeared on screen, I startled so bad, I scraped my legs against the carpet. Then I busted up laughing. Well, shrieking, more like. Eyes sopping and vocal cords raw, I had to pause the video to recompose. And that didn’t happen for at least five minutes. The last time I laughed like that was when I read a The Joy of Painting fan script compiled by an AI bot forced to watch over a thousand hours of Bob Ross.
Things have slowed down at Demo Reel HQ. Holding a whiskey bottle, Rebecca starts a game of truth or dare. Fabrizio, three sheets to the wind (well, more like nine), blurbles something that only Tacoma can interpret.
TACOMA: Wh-what was your first sexual experience?
REBECCA: Well… I was camping with Uncle Frank.
TACOMA AND FABRIZIO: *a mix of garbled protestation and “Dare!”*
Still hunting for food, Donnie has come into a bit of luck. He’s spooked a possum, which appears to be playing dead now.
DONNIE: Now, here’s the thing, I don’t know if playing dead means, like, he’s just acting and he’s gonna, like… spring on me and try to attack me, or… I thought I heard somewhere that they play dead so much that, like, they’ll play dead until they are dead.
Oh, Donnie, even when you’re floundering for factoids, you’re a treasure.
Taking a chance, Donnie goes to investigate the possum…
DONNIE: Yeah, the first one was correct. Uh, apparently when they’re playing dead, they are just playing dead, waiting to strike… with teeth! Rows filled with shark-like teeth!
Dammit, Donnie, don’t tease me.
But the possum was no match for Donnie’s shoe, which divested the poor creature of a properly shaped skull and its own life force.
Again, at Demo Reel HQ, life is going swimmingly. So much for being in peril. Or maybe the SWAG leader is taking his time. Maybe he stopped by an IHOP for pancakes, maybe some inspiration for another breakfast-based attack. Anyway, Rebecca is having a blast, showing off her talents like playing the guitar, juggling, drawing, and some gymnastics. (I really envy her juggling talent.)
FABRIZIO: It’s like Cirque du Soleil, except minus the evil French Canadians.
It’s the mafioso’s turn to show off his talent. While he leaves the room to set up a magic trick, Tacoma admits his surprise at learning Rebecca’s many talents. Rebecca tries to put on a brave front, but it starts to unravel just enough so you can see her frustration with the acting industry.
This leads to quite an insightful discussion about the struggles and stigmas Hollywood actresses face. Rebecca (and possibly the real life Rachel herself) deals with people assuming she’s dumb and lacks the gray matter to form her own opinions about how her roles should be portrayed.
What about actresses who aren’t traditionally attractive? Rebecca knows the shticks that Hollywood has defined for these women:
- Kathy Bates? A character actress who plays “psychos and smarmy bitches.”
- Madame Judy Dench? “She’s British, she could read out of the phone book and it would sound credible.”
- Meryl Streep? “Margaret Thatcher, Julia Child, Skeletor’s lover from Bridges of Madison County, shrews, cartoons, cougars, and MILFs.”
- Cameron Diaz in Being John Malkovich? Fuck her, she’s an actress who can get any role she wants, including one where she’s made to look frumpy. “Let’s hand it to the cute one and praise her for being ‘edgy’.”
Rebecca is way smarter and more observant than people give her credit for. Not only can she identify the typecast boxes these women have accepted as their homes, she knows what her own looks like. At twenty-three, she’s at her midlife crisis. Her acting life is half over.
Floundering for a silver lining for this silver screen refugee, Tacoma tries to lighten Rebecca’s spirits.
TACOMA: Well, on the plus side, it’s not like your career is going anywhere any time soon!
Rebecca storms off. Smooth, Narrows.
It’s another lonely night for Donnie. Well, there are wolf howls and creepy girlish laughter to serenade him, so he’s not entirely alone.
Donnie tells himself over and over that there’s no such thing as ghosts. He goes stumbling through the dark woods, comforting himself with his new mantra. No such thing as ghosts, no such thing as ghosts, no such…
I do believe in spooks, I do believe in spooks, I do, I do, I do, I do, I do, I do… believe I’m gonna skip a second Angry Squirrel and opt for a water with some lemon in it.
The trio continue watching more footage. I know what you’re thinking, and, yeah, the Nearly Stagnant Adventures of the Sedentary Trio are becoming a little dull. Except for the moment when Tacoma accidentally opens the bathroom door on Rebecca, but it seems that things are going to slow down again… until Rebecca spots something in the doorway…
Something has run by the open doorway. A mask appears for a split second, then what appears to be a hand moves briefly into the light, as if it shot out from the dark warehouse and melted back into the inky space. It is kind of creepy to watch. (Red circles to point out the items in question are mine. It looks like a bad YouTube clickbait thumbnail, doesn’t it? 10 CREEPY Facts about Demo Reel YOU WON’T BELIEVE!)
Finally, we catch up with Carl. The steadfast cameraman has reached the entrance of the woods using a tracking device, which appears to be a smartphone. I thought for sure Carl was using a secret German tactic—wait, he has a tracking device planted on Donnie?
Er, anyway, the signal from the tracker is faint, so Carl may have to rely on his skills as well. I hope so, anyway. He should have learned more than how to stamp documents in the Stasi.
Determined though he is, the hunter he’s met warns him not to go into the woods.
CARL: Und vhy not?
HUNTER: They say there’s a witch that died on Christmas Eve!
CARL: Don’t be a dumkopf.
HUNTER: Aren’t you scared?
CARL: Listen, mein friend, if there’s vun zing my people have taught me it’s zat zere’s nothing zat can’t be solved by shooting it.
You guys tried that with the turkey. A smarter person would have returned to Demo Reel headquarters, made a pitcher of Brunhilda’s brew, had Rebecca drink it at the entrance of the woods, and let her chew a path straight to Donnie. I’m sure the concoction would have also granted her incredible homing skills along with that monster metabolism.
Poor Donnie has given up on food and is seeking escape from his forested prison. Finding the north star on a cloudy night yielded no desirable results, so he found the north side of a tree during a narrow window of sky visibility and smashed some berries onto the bark. I’m sure that will be visible from several yards away.
Using one sheet of scratch paper and a pen “with enough ink,” he scrawls a note telling anyone to go north…
DONNIE: … and they can at least find… what will most likely be my rotting corpse.
He stabs the note onto a dinky branch, and then he’s off, with the ghostly laughter spurring him on.
Back with the Funtimes Gang, Tacoma really wants to make it up to Rebecca. His sincerity alone would melt snow, but Rebecca is skillfully acting out permafrost. He’s willing to do anything to win back her friendship.
Even if it means playing Fabrizio’s lovely assistant while wearing the Belle dress. It seems petty, but with everything she’s been through, Rebecca has earned this bit of mild revenge. (And I’ve earned a glimpse of another pair of very nice, manly arms. This is shaping up to be the best part of Demo Reel ever.)
Back with our woodsman-in-remedial-training, he’s venturing in a possible northerly direction out of the woods. He’s also taking this time to talk about one of the biggest fails in The Blair Witch Project, which was when the amateur filmmakers walked by a stream and never bothered following it.
DONNIE: All water leads… somewhere. People set up around water. Because, guess what? You need water to survive!
This is a surprising sign of competency. Donnie’s new plan is to watch out for any sign of water and follow it to “some form of civil-eye-zation.”
(I pointed out that pronunciation not to nitpick but just to tuck it away in this review like a little memento. I don’t know if it’s a regionalism, but Doug does pronounce certain words like that. I find it endearing.)
After the cut, Donnie has gone mad. No stream, no water, no nothing. Not even a makeshift rain catcher made from his hat and cut-up socks produces results on the account of no rain. But my question is how he managed to cut his socks.
Failure has left Donnie a sobbing mess, licking up his own tears to keep himself hydrated.
Going back to my wilderness survival research, one of the easiest ways to find a water source is to follow the wildlife. But since Donnie was actively trying to kill any living thing for sustenance—and he’s too dense to try drinking the dead possum’s blood—that’s out of the question.
His next best bet for water would probably have been digging for it. Maybe around a tree trunk, since their roots are always searching for water. Get down deep enough, you’ll find some murky mess, but if you can build a filter of some sort, you might avoid some pollutants. The filter… well, Donnie couldn’t build a fire to make charcoal (unless he was willing to use and possibly damage his cell phone battery, but that’s not worth getting into in what’s supposed to be a timewaster blog post)… so he’d probably have to resort to using his cut-up socks and hat. Unless he threw away the socks, and I wouldn’t doubt it.
Let’s be real, digging would be too much for him. He’d get down a foot into the earth, cry, dunk his head into the hole, cover it up, and wait to die. Then he’d yank his head out of the soil, complain that it was all dark and dirty, then stumble off to find something poisonous. Then he’d dig another hole…
In a more positive environment, Rebecca and Tacoma have made up. Putting all the mess behind them, Rebecca wants to continue the truth or dare game, albeit with a more… truthful slant.
REBECCA: Do you really think we should stop Demo Reel?
How the fans must have howled as they tightened those neck tie nooses around the Teddy Ruxpin dolls.
TACOMA: Boy… now that’s a toughie… I-I know I always told Donnie that we should, but in all honesty, I don’t know. I mean, I joined this project with high hopes and it turned into a… a nightmare. I sit in a dark room and throw my soul down on paper, then watch it get torn apart by… whoever. Donnie, the internet. I guess I’m just lucky to be in a field where I’m able to express myself. But… everybody say it’s crap anyway. So what’s the point? *sigh* Why write if nobody says you can write?
REBECCA: Why act if nobody says you can act?
Oh, kids. Plenty of untalented people have made long-lasting careers out of sucking. Look at the thousands of Patreons and Kickstarters backing them.
It is pretty sobering to think about, but the mood is still lightened from earlier, so they more or less glibly accept their suckiness. Tacoma proposes that they keep drinking, I guess to toast their doomed jobs. Never one to pass up a drink, Quinn helpfully tells Tacoma of Donnie’s secret stash in his office. I wonder how long he snooped to find that.
Suddenly, panic! Tacoma yells for Rebecca. Quinn comes along because he has the camera. In Donnie’s office, Tacoma holds a black binder, his expression one of profound disbelief.
TACOMA: You’re not gonna believe this.
With that cliffhanger plopped into place, the screen cuts to black.
Our worn and frazzled hero is slumped against a tree, slurring worse than the Demo Reel partiers after an entire bottle of Feckin’ Whiskey. Yet he soldiers on, recording every painful moment of his foresty incarceration. At this point, I must ask how the battery has retained a charge this whole time.
But things are looking up-ish. Donnie has found possible food sources: A tube of toothpaste and some berries.
Donnie’s meal is also looking up-ish as well. At least it’s not coming out of another orifice. I mean, coming out of the ear? That’d be awful.
Oh, Jesus, Donnie, must you have that twig so close to your eye?
DONNIE: Interesting bit of reading on the back of that toothpaste label, I found out that the most common thing found in everybody’s bathroom, uh, apparently ‘f’you consume too much gives you the shits, the shakes, and, uh, causes you to hallucinate. A’ least that’s what the yellow monkey has been telling me, isn’t that rrrright, Periwinkle?
*silence*
DONNIE: Shuddup!
After nearly two whole days of being hopelessly lost, Donnie has reached the final act of desperation: Prayer.
*cut to Donnie standing, looking heavenward as if trying to get closer to the deity whom he is beseeching*
DONNIE: I’m a worthless man, I’m a small man. I just need your help. If you can give me anything, some sign, just a…. a little bit of hope for me to cling on to, I will dedicate my life to making things better, not worse.
*meaningful pause*
DONNIE: And if not… I swear, I will sell my soul to Satan! I’ll do it! I will find the nearest woodland critter, bludgeon it to death, and sacrifice it on a black altar of pine cones and tree sap!
*silence from an uncaring/distant/absent god*
DONNIE: Nothing? Nada? Okay.
*cut to Donnie crouching, staring hellward as if trying to get closer to the demonic force whom he is beseeching*
DONNIE: Hey, Satan, it’s Donnie…
Donnie, you could have saved yourself all that needless praying by backtracking to the possum corpse for an Insta-Sacrifice. But by now the possum has probably been carried off by a buzzard that’s returned to its nest by a busy highway.
Offers of his mortal soul to the Prince of Darkness have bore nothing but duck egg. Donnie trudges on, trying to lift his own spirits with the assurance that he’s not wandering around…
… in circles.
Donnie, sweetie, maybe if you weren’t jawing at the camera and instead looking for unique markers, you wouldn’t have been wandering around the same 100-square feet of forest.
What, don’t believe me?
Seriously, he passes this one tree several times while trampling around a virtually stripped forest. I couldn’t help noticing it; once I saw that crooked branch, my eyes locked on to it and searched for it anytime a backdrop of trees popped up. I’ll give him some credit for venturing out of his imaginary cage for a while, but then he wanders around back around to the same clearing. He’d get lost in that taped square trick used to confuse cats.
And to add insult to lemon-and-salt-stinging injury, Donnie stumbled past this on his way back to the note:
A dirt road. A sign of civilization. You’re just Blair Witching this whole misadventure, aren’t ya, Donnie?
I know in reality Doug was probably concerned about trespassing or getting lost for real, but in my head canon, Donnie is so much of an oblivious ditz outside of moviemaking that he’d get turned around by a map with clearly defined markers such as YOU ARE HERE and GO HERE. I mean, the man tried to keep cool by the light of his cell phone.
Later at night, Donnie and his trooper of a camera record what could be his final moment of weakness.
DONNIE: I realize something now. Life is not a movie. You can try your best, do everything correct and yet you can still fail. Just get used to it. It’s the way… things are… gonna happen, because you can try your best to… do everything right, but in the end, you still wake up in the middle of a forest, abandoned, dying to death…
He reflects on how his mother possessed an enthusiasm that carried her through tough times, and how he wishes he could have just a little bit of that trait. But he can’t. So he gives up and goes to find a quiet place to die. It’s almost disquieting how peaceful he sounds when he finds a random spot… even more so when he murmurs how he’ll be rejoining his mother.
Then… the giggling.
Despite welcoming death not ten seconds earlier, Donnie hies himself out of there.
After more stumbling around the woods, Donnie finally finds (well, doesn’t overlook) a sign of civilization. Letting himself in through the helpfully unlocked back door, he runs through the house. Looking for help? Looking for a place to hide? Whatever he’s looking for…
… this probably isn’t it.
Seconds later, something hits Donnie from behind. The camera drops to the floor.
The frantic flailing of a flashlight leads Carl through the dark woods. He calls out for Donnie, almost fraught. He’s so close, nearing the end of his long search, the tracking signal guiding him true.
But all he finds is Donnie’s fedora. He grimly addresses the camera:
CARL: Director down. I repeats… director down.
Fear not—or celebrate not, if you’re one of the Teddy Ruxpin defilers. This isn’t yet the end of Donnie or Demo Reel. In fact, it gets a little weirder and sadder. Weird-sadder. Sad-weirder.
Just stay tuned.
Prep Episode 1 Episode 2 Episode 3 Episode 4 Episode 5 Episode 6 Cleanup
