6 Ridiculous Things Implied By Plot Twists In Famous Movies

But despite the waterlogged body, which super-resembles Will down to a birthmark, Police Chief Brody-ish is still convinced the boy isn't dead ...

The Twist:

... because he's not! After punching his way into the morgue and our hearts, Hopper fucking cuts the body open, revealing cheap stuffing and an even cheaper ruse by the shadowy government group. Those cunning bastards!

Wait A Goddamn Second ...

Where in the hell did that stuffed body come from?

According to the show's timeline, the Will went missing roughly three or four days before his "body" showed up. Which means this perfect cadaver facsimile was cooked up in less time than it takes cement to dry. Who the fudge did they commission to make that? Is that something they had to order from some perverted hobbyist, or do they have a wing of their facility devoted to Stan-Winston-style dummy effects? Did some guy in a suit walk into a Halloween outlet and ask if they could make a naked little boy doll on the hush? How were they able to match Will's body type and distinguishing marks with no access to his body? Did they break into his house and search for shirtless photos? There isn't a single option that isn't creepy.

Remember, prior to it happening, this group had no idea Will would go missing in their bizarre dungeon world. That means this flesh-teddy was either conceived in a matter of days, or this dark syndicate happens to have perfect stuffed replicas of everyone in the town just in case. Either option means that only did someone have to suggest this idea to a room full of adult government officials, but also that the idea was praised and actually carried out. Exactly how much of our tax dollars went into child replicas under Reagan?

Hydra's been a real thorn in Captain America's dick. The first film showed a 1940s Cap defeating Hydra's steampunk Nazis before they can use the Tesseract (a powerful space cube) for evil. After taking a long, icy nap and waking up in the present, Cap joins the Marvel Universe's world police, SHIELD ...

The Twist:

... only to find out that Hydra has been secretly working within SHIELD for 70 goddamn years, and they've nearly taken it over, thanks to one of the top officials being a double agent. They've become so powerful, in fact, that they've spent decades murdering people on the DL.

Hydra's plan? Secretly cause global chaos until SHIELD grew paranoid enough to create a system with which they can target anyone in the world with helicarriers -- and then take over that. Using data-mining, Hydra also created a long-ass list of potential enemies to eliminate with their new toys, including Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, and Captain America himself. Damn, these guys make Cobra look like middle-school bullies.

Wait A Goddamn Second ...

So if Hydra runs SHIELD and identifies Banner, Cap, Tony, and Fury as known enemies, what the balls took so long to kill them? As we learn in Civil War, part of their 70-year destabilization process involves creating a team of Winter Soldier super assassins to take care of those in the way, so why not take care of the Avengers before they became the Avengers? In other words, besides taking out the Starks and creating a small army of soldiers, what the hail has Hydra been up to for the entirety of Iron Man, The Incredible Hulk, Iron Man 2, The Avengers, Iron Man 3, and Thor 2? Were they doing nothing but making octopus pins and practicing secret handshakes? Did no one send out a nervous memo pointing out that one of their easy-to-assassinate employees was putting together a gaggle of super friends on the company dime?

Not to mention that, as seen in The Avengers, the long-sought Tesseract they "lost" in the '40s has clearly stayed in SHIELD's possession ...

... meaning that it's technically still been in their grasp, and there was no reason not to brain Nick Fury before he could ever utter the phrase "Avengers Initiative." But instead of taking any sort of preventive measures, Hydra apparently kept quiet until it was way too late to pull that world domination ripcord. Oh well, there's always 2084.

The Caped Trust-Funder finally has to drive right down an alleyway -- where they seemingly box him in for the get ...

The Twist:

... Surprise, motherfuckers! Batman, being Batman, had the fuzz exactly where he wanted them: watching him buzz off in a rich-guy boner jet while standing around dicks-in-palm. Take that, taxpayers!

Wait A Goddamn Second ...

Hey, how long was that thing sitting in an alleyway? Bane's stock exchange attack happens during the day, with Batman only showing up as the sun was setting. That means the jet we see was left there in broad daylight, and in the freaking center of downtown Gotham.

During his escape, we see stores, populated streets, tall buildings with great vantage points ... all bearing down on a single spot where Bruce somehow parked a giant robot sky crab hours earlier, during rush hour.

How did it get there? Remember, it's a total surprise to the police that this experimental jet is hanging out in that alley, which means there's no way anyone noticed it and called the cops. So did it fly there itself? No, we know it didn't, because a major plot point is that the jet doesn't have autopilot until the end. Did Alfred put it there? Nope, because once again, another plot point is that Mr. Butler refused to help Bruce in his crimefighting exploits anymore. This means that unless he paid a guy to tow the thing there, Batman must have landed his jet, hoped no one noticed it, and quietly drove the Batpod to intercept Bane without anyone seeing him -- all for the one totally dramatic reveal later (which, in fairness, was pretty boss).

Before becoming the bloated tomb of Johnny Depp's career, the original Pirates Of The Caribbean kicked into supernatural gear when Elizabeth Swann gets kidnapped by Captain Barbossa, who originally plans to kill her until (incorrectly) learning that her ancestral blood could break the curse on himself and his crew. Being a gentleman, Barbossa treats the governor's daughter to a gorgeous pirate dinner of meat, fruit, and bread.

The ambiance is ruined when she stabs him and futilely scrambles to nowhere like a greased cat in a barrel, because the moment she steps into the moonlight ...

The Twist:

Zoinks! I'm guessing you know this story, what with it being 13 years old, but if you're only now joining us, it turns out that Barbossa's entire crew is a pack of undead ghouls.

Wait A Goddamn Second ...

So if they're dead and we're specifically told they can't eat ... then what's with all that food?

Let's recall why Elizabeth is there in the first place. The pirate crew, having felt some kind of magic signal from a piece of cursed gold, simply rolled up to steal it. It was only when Elizabeth lied about her last name that they decided to kidnap her -- meaning that these undead villains originally had no intention of bringing a mortal on board, and no reason to be carrying a fresh feast of produce and protein. So why all the delicious grub? Are they planning an ironic food fight, or were they so stupidly optimistic about lifting the curse that they grocery-shopped for easily spoilable food way too long in advance?

Who even cooked it all? Do ghost pirates have a gourmet zombie chef waiting for the off-chance they are entertaining a sexy human lady? Has Barbossa been setting up nightly meals for himself and some hay-stuffed Victorian gown to gab with during the slow hours?

The sanest explanation I can think of is that, after kidnapping Elizabeth, Barbossa and his crew realized she'd need to eat. And so instead of grabbing whatever they could find, they opted to make a second errand to pick up a smorgasbord of delight, no doubt paying only with the steel they keep in their scabbards. In other words, this gastronome was likely brought with the blood of innocent farmers and merchants ... only we didn't get to see it happen. Rest in peace, you hapless zombie fodder.

It's the serial killer "John Doe," who demands that the two detectives drive him to the middle of the desert at exactly 6 p.m., promising that he'll deliver two more bodies and put the case to rest.

The Twist:

He does not fail on that promise.

At 6:01 p.m., a 24-hour delivery van shows up to assist Morgan Freeman in one of the most memorable unboxing sequences this side of Oldboy. Turns out that after Detective Mills left his house that morning, John Doe straight-up murdered his pregnant wife -- the decapitated evidence of which rests snugly in the cardboard folds of their newly obtained package. Brutal.

Wait A Goddamn Second ...

What kind of awkward-ass morning did John Doe have to make all this happen?

Think about it. When he gets arrested, Doe is processed and lawyered up. Mugshots and bloody fingerprints (well, fingermarks) are taken. The lab tests the blood on his outfit. We see Mills and Somerset negotiating with Doe's lawyer and shaving their chests to wear wires. How long do you suppose all that takes to accomplish? I'm gonna guess at least four or five hours if the situation was optimal. But while I don't know for sure ... neither does John Doe. And that uncertainty makes his entire morning a mad dash against the clock, greased with the gore of the innocent like some kind of twisted Nickelodeon game show.

If Mills left his house at 7 a.m., that would give John Doe less than 12 hours to get his lady's decapitated head in the middle of the desert. He'd have to quietly break in, kill the wife, cut off her head, wash it up, stick it in a package, and drive it to a company willing to same-day deliver on a Sunday (the most unbelievable step is the last one). How long do you suppose that would take? A few hours if you hurry. But when we later see John Doe arrested, he is covered in three different people's blood (Mills' wife, his own, and the lady from the other crime scene). That means one of two things: either John Doe walked into the delivery store dressed like a sloppy vampire ...

... or he changed his clothes for that brief window before changing back later for dramatic effect. Then -- while covered in blood -- he successfully hailed a cab to the police station and turned himself in. For the life of me, I cannot imagine what kind of conversation happened during that ballsy-ass terror ride.

And still, none of this factors in the other slaying, which Doe committed so recently that the blood was still fresh, making his exploits the murder equivalent of a Hangover-style bender. So when you think about it ... isn't he the real hero of this story?

That's the previous family getting got with a rustic backyard hanging machine. This is all evidenced by old Super 8 footage which Oswalt finds in his attic, which also includes a different family getting charbroiled in a chained car ...

... and another getting tied to weighted beach chairs and drowned in a pool.

In every case, the mysterious X factor is a single missing kid and a masked demon named Bughuul. Oswalt reasonably assumes that Bughuul must have killed everyone ...

The Twist:

... only to find bonus footage of the murders showing the missing kids carrying out the grisly deeds. Turns out that Bughuul, having no ability to physically interact with the living, has been systematically brainwashing children to do his bidding instead. Creeeepy.

Wait A Goddamn Second ...

But hold on. Since Bughuul has no corporeal grasp on the world, that means all of those giant evil death contraptions were built by the individual children. A child chained up that car, roped cinder blocks onto those beach chairs, and built a makeshift gallows -- all presumably under the instructions of a stoic Satan-face frustratingly talking them through the process. Shoving aside the brutal loss of life, that's kind of fucking adorable. Just think of what it took to accomplish one of these murders.

Let's assume that everything we see in this picture are supplies the family already had. That means Bughuul must have done an inventory with each child, conceiving the contraption using the tools they had available. Next, the demon would have to explain the construction plan to the kid -- either through haunting mind control or perhaps some kind of pencil sketch. Each piece of rope would be measured and laid out on the grass, and the ends would be tied into a noose ... which I'm assuming Bughuul would walk the kid through making, since she's barely old enough to tie her shoes.

Next, each family member would be dragged into the yard and somehow held upright while each noose is wrapped around their neck. Considering the girl's size and that the family is drugged, that would mean she'd have to string them up first, then climb the tree and swing the rope over the top branch, before using her own body as counterweight and tying the other end. Finally, the little girl would need to learn how to load and operate a Super 8 camera, set up a tripod, and finally exert her final strength into cutting the branch -- no doubt exhausted from a night learning basic rope and pulley mechanics. When you look at it like this, Bughuul seems less like a child-stealing hell spawn and more like a camp counselor who's really into Slipknot.

David once punched a man so hard that his face went back in time. Dig him on Twitter.

Last Halloween, the Cracked Podcast creeped you out with tales of ghost ships, mysteriously dead people, and a man from one of the most famous paintings in U.S. history who years later went all Jack Nicholson in The Shining on his family. This October, Jack and the Cracked staff are back with special guest comedians Ryan Singer, Eric Lampaert, and Anna Seregina to share more unsettling and unexplained true tales of death, disappearance, and the great beyond. Get your tickets for this LIVE podcast here!

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