Splitsider

Wednesday, February 15th, 2012

New Project X Photos, Captioned By the Protagonist's Dog

New photos from Project X, Todd Phillip's epic party movie, have been released. We present them below, along with captions found hastily scrawled on the negatives in a canine hand.

11:18pm: I'm currently hiding out underneath the porch, waiting for this nightmare to be over. I have found a camera and taught myself to write so that I can document the events of this near-apocalyptic evening for posterity.

11:22pm: For starters, everything in the front yard is on fire. Yes, FIRE. I don't know why I was left behind to deal with this when Mr. and Mrs. Packer went on vacation. Do I look like a Dalmation? No. I'm a Yorkshire terrier. I was bred to catch rats and MAYBE enter dog shows.

11:32pm: Oh, God. They've found me. These drunk girls scooped me out from under the porch and threw me into a sort of bouncy prison. Thank God Thomas hasn't fed me since his parents left, or there would be a healthy coating of kibbles n' bits lining this plastic hell.

11:48pm: So much bouncing. Somebody help me. Lassie? Are you out there? The number for PETA is on the fridge.

11:52pm: Finally escaped the bouncy prison, taking this close-up on my final bounce. Indisputable proof, whether I survive or not, that my torturer Thomas is behind tonight's mayhem. I hope his parents take away that fucking stereo.

11:53pm: Ah, his parents. My beautiful, gentle benefactors. I wish they were here now. Instead, all I have is this photo that I stole and folded up into my doggie locket. Would that I could once more feel the warm pattern of Mrs. Packer's cable-knit twinset against my trembling fur!

12:41pm: The senseless debauchery continues. But I have concocted a plan. While the graceless two-legged punks are busy rubbing their genitalia against each other, I will float to safety in a balloon contraption. Just need to get back under the porch to construct it.

1:29am: Blast. They've colonized the porch. I'll never be able to pass back into the fleeting safety of my subterranean dwelling unnoticed. BRB, gonna go sniff around for cake.

1:36am: What kind of a goddamn birthday party doesn't have any cake?

1:39am: Seriously, not even Thomas' fat friend had any. Usually when that kid comes over to the house, he has at least one piece of cake in his pockets. Sometimes cake and a cookie.

2:14am: The females are holding red solo cups! This means Thomas and his brain-dead cronies can't be far away. I'll lay low until they make a move.

2:20am: YES! The coast is clear! Also, Thomas is obviously delusional if he thinks he's going to get any action from that chick. But I've got bigger fish to fry.

3:47am: My moment has come. I leave these negatives behind for the authorities. My doggie locket, I leave to Mrs. Packer. To Thomas, I leave the poop under the porch. For the lost souls here tonight: I pray for you. Goodbye.