Tucker And Dale Instant

“Did he just call our cabin a shack of horror?” Tucker asked, offended.

Tucker was a wiry ball of nervous energy with a trucker cap pulled low over his eyes, and Dale was a gentle giant with a heart the size of a water tower and a flannel shirt to match. They’d just bought a fixer-upper vacation cabin—a real steal, according to the listing that failed to mention the “murder swamp” out back or the family of raccoons living in the stove. tucker and dale

Allison looked up at his massive, dripping form looming over her. She screamed, scrambled backward, and ran straight into a beehive. “Did he just call our cabin a shack of horror

“It was room temperature,” Dale admitted. “The fridge is broken.” Allison looked up at his massive, dripping form

Dale smiled, wiping sweat from his bald head. “You think we’ll make friends with the locals?”

“This is it,” the kid whispered, trembling.