Tucker And Dale (2027)

Allison looked up at his massive, dripping form looming over her. She screamed, scrambled backward, and ran straight into a beehive.

Dale passed around the pickled eggs. To everyone’s surprise, they weren’t half bad.

The bees took that personally.

The raccoons in the stove hissed in disagreement. But for once, nobody ran away screaming.

Tucker was a wiry ball of nervous energy with a trucker cap pulled low over his eyes, and Dale was a gentle giant with a heart the size of a water tower and a flannel shirt to match. They’d just bought a fixer-upper vacation cabin—a real steal, according to the listing that failed to mention the “murder swamp” out back or the family of raccoons living in the stove. tucker and dale

And as the stars came out over the crooked little cabin, Tucker raised his beer. “See, Dale? Told you. Start of something good.”

Before Tucker could answer, a shriek echoed from the woods. Allison looked up at his massive, dripping form

Allison looked at the chainsaw. At the jar of pickled eggs. At the two most terrified, well-meaning faces she’d ever seen. And she started to laugh.