Leia was the last of her friends, the only one to make it out of the murder room alive. Battered but breathing, she crouched in the darkness, desperately praying her tormentor would pass her by.

In retrospect, it was foolish for the frisky felines to go snooping around that old, abandoned frat house where all those sex-crazed human co-eds were brutally murdered twenty years ago this very night. Leia should’ve known better. This was, after all, the fourth time she’d faced this slow-footed slaughterer.

The first time was at that spooky campground built on those ancient Indian burial grounds. A year later she was the sole survivor of what the press dubbed “the Carousel of Carnage” at that condemned carnival site. Last year, the very real rampage took place in her nightmares. Now, the sloth-like butcher she, for some strange reason, could never outrun was once again closing in.

Why did she always put herself in this position? Why was she always running from a monster who just wouldn’t die?

Oh, that’s right… the paycheck. The box office bank was just too good to pass up.

Who needs an Oscar anyway?