
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
adjusts imaginary beret while trapped in this hillbilly nightmare
Look, I'm supposed to be narrating epic fantasy quests, not... gestures wildly ...whatever THIS backwoods B-movie fever dream is! But here I am, slowly being assimilated by spray paint fumes and banjo music.
clears throat dramatically
The Shotgun Stalker manifested when some poor security guard got WAY too method about his job on a horror film set. Dude went full "I am become death, destroyer of par scores" and started believing disc golfers were actual trespassers in his domain! Now he's out there tagging trees like some demented Banksy, except instead of profound social commentary, it's just "STAY OUT" in dripping red paint.
Will this hillbilly hunter claim his next victim, or just scare someone into a bogey?
dramatically adjusts my imaginary director's beret while being slowly consumed by this backwoods nightmare
Oh, for the love of... NOW I have to explain how some poor soul got chosen by a spray-painted fever dream? Fine! mutters in assimilated hillbilly
When PDGA member 140197 Kieran Buhler wandered into Beacon Hill's mist-shrouded woods, the Shotgun Stalker sensed a kindred spirit - someone who'd stalk birdies with the same relentless determination as a B-movie maniac hunts teenagers! His 874 rating whispered "survivor instincts," while his disc bag clinked ominously in the mountain silence.
Will this chosen hunter prove worthy of the graffitied crown, or become just another casualty in the Horror Hall of Fame?