Night of the Screaming Monkeys
Etc.
One day there was a man called Jimbob. Jimbob was rather dense in the head, so he decided to read a dictionary. All night, he read and read and read, until he had finished it twice. Now in a relatively more intellgent position, he decided to take a trip to an army base down the road. Clasping the dictionary firm to his chest, he ambled through the Autumn rain, down towards the bottome of the road.
Etc.
The base was vast, much vaster than he had invisioned, very soon Jimbob was lost. In desperation he leafed through the dictionary, searching franticly for any word-definitions that might help him. Nothing. As Jimbob wept, curled up into the foetal position, an officer walked past. The officer wasn't exactly sure where he was. Only two minutes earlier he'd been a wide-eyed gimp, living in a totally different article, when all of a sudden the Narrator had transported him to this world, changed his clothes and handed him a baton. It smelled of vasoline.
Etc.
Handing him a fresh pair of clothes, he eventually managed to calm Jimbob down. Helping the snivveling wreck out into the open it looked all set to play out just as the script said it would.
Etc.
BUT THEN ALL OF A SUDDEN... Loud exclamations annoy me. Just then, the dictionary shuddered violently, flapping out of Jimbob's hand and onto the cold stone floor. The two bemused, and misplaced article characters took a step back. After a nervous moment looking at the book, then at each other they knelt down for a better look at the thing. It was still shaking. It began to talk. The dictionary's voice had a certain etheral quality, it's tone soother the pair of them, the hairs that once stood on end at the back of Jimbob's neck began to rlax, flowing as if caugh in a light summer's breeze. Unbeknownst to our protasgonsits the book's voice actually sounded nothing like that at all, prior to the adventure it had paid Morgan Freeman to voice act for it.
Etc.
Turning to face Jimbob, the book told him to go into the car park of a nearby Market. There were no other options, carboard boxes stretched in an endless expanse. The book was quiet now, waiting to be picked up and carried to the destination. Was it Jimbob's destination? Or was it the book's? He had no way of knowing what would happen if he did follow the book's instructions, but as he already knew, he didn't have any other options. Jimbob set foot for the car park.
Etc.
The boxes seemed to fall away almost immediately, and within almost no time at all Jimbob was faced with the concrete frame of a multistorey carpark. He could smell gum and urine, yep, he was there. There were no cars, but even so Jimbob carefully stood out of the road before opening up the dictionary once more. In it's tranquile voice the book told Jimbob to look up the definition of "Behead", immediately falling slient.
Etc.
He leafed through the tea stained pages to where the phrase, emblazened in red ink was placed, but as soon as he touched the paper the book snapped a few pages backwards and instead he found his finger on the word "Axe". A whooshing sound came from above him, there was a whirl of colour and a flash of red. Jimbob screamed.
Etc.
The body was found three weeks later by the officer, who still had absolutely no idea where he was. He'd fashioned himself a gimp mask from some of the cardboard boxes, and was well into constructing a cellotape whip. With a mighty tug he pulled the sword from the ground, there was blood everywhere. There was a skull. In the road. It looked vaguely familiar.
Etc.
Etc.