As we boarded the RV, I noticed that someone had loaded on a statue of a giant frog. When I glanced toward it, I saw a troll looking thing that had crawled halfway out of the statue's mouth -- apparently, as in the weeping angels on Doctor Who, it couldn't move when someone was looking at it. I smashed the troll with a sword (where did I get a sword?) and convinced someone else to smash the statue (why couldn't I?)
Sadly, Fred didn't make it. But the point I'm getting at is: Why do people always do the dumbest things in horror movies, even when I'm dreaming one? We should have taken off the moment green slime first oozed through the walls. (That's what killed Fred.)
Packing our stuff up. Sheesh. That's so dumb even I couldn't turn it into a story.