I'll Stab You To Death And Then Play Around With Your Blood
So, in other words: Happy fucking Halloween, bitches!
This is my favorite time of the year. I have a theory as to why, and it involves several things. Let's dissect my life, shall we? I'll lay down on the couch and tell you all about my childhood.
First of all, my birthday comes just before Halloween. My mom used to tell me that I fell off of a witch's broomstick and that's where I came from. That's right. No stork for me. And I loved hearing that.
I spent most of my childhood growing up on a farm out in the middle of nowhere just past Waterloo, Illinois. My family used to throw a HUGE family Halloween/my b-day/my sister's b-day party every year. We'd set up a gigantic bonfire and the adults would get intoxicated and show up in costume. My mom and dad were Batman and Batgirl in homemade costumes, one year.
We had a large, red barn on this property. My parents, relatives and neighbors would all get together and turn this already creepy building into a haunted house. The sariest damn thing I remember was our neighbor (we called him Crazy Joe, since he once told a story of finding burglars eating his Kentucky Fried Chicken in his kitchen and they threw him in the woods)who created a bizarre and frightening costume that was some kind of mutated or skinned or something sheep. Thinking back on it, I know it was just foam-sponge that he carved up and crawled inside, but with the lighting and atmosphere, when this thing came at you with blood and whatever on it, and grabbed your legs, I nearly pissed myself. He must have been quite toasty inside that get-up. Way to go, Crazy Joe. I remember that to this day and it's still creepy.
So, there's that aspect. Another ties into the whole growing up in the middle of nowhere. I spent a lot of time by myself running around the forest and using my imagination. Once, in college, we were doing an acting exercise about what we used to play as kids. Everybody else was talking about war, cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians, all nice little games you play with other people present, usually. It came to be my turn and all eyes were upon me. I calmly stated that I had never really played those things, but I did play.....Werewolf! And as I screamed the last word, I leaped into the air and landed on the back of a classmate and pretended to rip her throat out. Scared the shit out of the room. And that was at a Christian college. heheh
And, I'll wrap it up with my final observation. I grew up watching classic horror flicks every weekend. Every saturday would start with cartoons and Land of the Lost when it was on. But at 11 a.m. channel 11, here in St. Louis, would play either some classic horror flick or a Japanese kaiju (giant monster) flick. The second flick would usually be sorta sci-fi and the third was some film I usually had no interest in. Like a western or something. But for 2 to 4 hours I was in heaven.
This caused a non-problem once. My school had these orange books that I used to read over and over. One was about Godzilla, another Dracula, another Mad Scientists, etc... I had seen pictures of a flick called The Mole People and read about it, but had never seen it. One Saturday, it was showing on Ch.11. My dad happened to be in town on that same weekend and I was supposed to be helping with all of the yard work and stuff. But I really wanted to see that damn movie! I slipped off and back into the house, covered myself with an afghan and peeked through a hole to watch it. (This was my feeble attempt at hiding. I mean, you definitely couldn't see that I was under the afghan, right?) I asked my mom to not tell dad where I was. He came in later and I could hear there conversation just feet from where I lay. My mom didn't SAY where I was, when he asked, but I could hear in her voice the smile as she is pointing in my direction. My dad let it pass and went back to working outside. Gotta love my parents.
Speaking of, my parents never really understood my obsession with all things horror. I remember my father saying, once: "You don't need to watch that crap" when I was begging to not do something so I could watch a horror flick. I don't hold that against him, though.
After my dad died, we moved from the beautiful country into Columbia, IL and I started to write bad poetry. I had a subscription to a horror magazine with interviews and news on upcoming and older films. My mom grilled me as to why I liked "those kind of movies". And I also ended up having to see a shrink. (Seeing mental specialists would be a recurring theme for me for quite a few years.)
So, to sum it up, I fucking love Halloween.
I'll tell the Godzilla story later. That's a pretty good one.
Nix says: Oh, yeah! Plus the changing leaves and the smell in the air and the cooling temperature....those help, too.
This is my favorite time of the year. I have a theory as to why, and it involves several things. Let's dissect my life, shall we? I'll lay down on the couch and tell you all about my childhood.
First of all, my birthday comes just before Halloween. My mom used to tell me that I fell off of a witch's broomstick and that's where I came from. That's right. No stork for me. And I loved hearing that.
I spent most of my childhood growing up on a farm out in the middle of nowhere just past Waterloo, Illinois. My family used to throw a HUGE family Halloween/my b-day/my sister's b-day party every year. We'd set up a gigantic bonfire and the adults would get intoxicated and show up in costume. My mom and dad were Batman and Batgirl in homemade costumes, one year.
We had a large, red barn on this property. My parents, relatives and neighbors would all get together and turn this already creepy building into a haunted house. The sariest damn thing I remember was our neighbor (we called him Crazy Joe, since he once told a story of finding burglars eating his Kentucky Fried Chicken in his kitchen and they threw him in the woods)who created a bizarre and frightening costume that was some kind of mutated or skinned or something sheep. Thinking back on it, I know it was just foam-sponge that he carved up and crawled inside, but with the lighting and atmosphere, when this thing came at you with blood and whatever on it, and grabbed your legs, I nearly pissed myself. He must have been quite toasty inside that get-up. Way to go, Crazy Joe. I remember that to this day and it's still creepy.
So, there's that aspect. Another ties into the whole growing up in the middle of nowhere. I spent a lot of time by myself running around the forest and using my imagination. Once, in college, we were doing an acting exercise about what we used to play as kids. Everybody else was talking about war, cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians, all nice little games you play with other people present, usually. It came to be my turn and all eyes were upon me. I calmly stated that I had never really played those things, but I did play.....Werewolf! And as I screamed the last word, I leaped into the air and landed on the back of a classmate and pretended to rip her throat out. Scared the shit out of the room. And that was at a Christian college. heheh
And, I'll wrap it up with my final observation. I grew up watching classic horror flicks every weekend. Every saturday would start with cartoons and Land of the Lost when it was on. But at 11 a.m. channel 11, here in St. Louis, would play either some classic horror flick or a Japanese kaiju (giant monster) flick. The second flick would usually be sorta sci-fi and the third was some film I usually had no interest in. Like a western or something. But for 2 to 4 hours I was in heaven.
This caused a non-problem once. My school had these orange books that I used to read over and over. One was about Godzilla, another Dracula, another Mad Scientists, etc... I had seen pictures of a flick called The Mole People and read about it, but had never seen it. One Saturday, it was showing on Ch.11. My dad happened to be in town on that same weekend and I was supposed to be helping with all of the yard work and stuff. But I really wanted to see that damn movie! I slipped off and back into the house, covered myself with an afghan and peeked through a hole to watch it. (This was my feeble attempt at hiding. I mean, you definitely couldn't see that I was under the afghan, right?) I asked my mom to not tell dad where I was. He came in later and I could hear there conversation just feet from where I lay. My mom didn't SAY where I was, when he asked, but I could hear in her voice the smile as she is pointing in my direction. My dad let it pass and went back to working outside. Gotta love my parents.
Speaking of, my parents never really understood my obsession with all things horror. I remember my father saying, once: "You don't need to watch that crap" when I was begging to not do something so I could watch a horror flick. I don't hold that against him, though.
After my dad died, we moved from the beautiful country into Columbia, IL and I started to write bad poetry. I had a subscription to a horror magazine with interviews and news on upcoming and older films. My mom grilled me as to why I liked "those kind of movies". And I also ended up having to see a shrink. (Seeing mental specialists would be a recurring theme for me for quite a few years.)
So, to sum it up, I fucking love Halloween.
I'll tell the Godzilla story later. That's a pretty good one.
Nix says: Oh, yeah! Plus the changing leaves and the smell in the air and the cooling temperature....those help, too.
posted by NixEclips at 5:43 AM
4 Comments:
"I'll Stab You To Death And Then Play Around With Your Blood <--- looks like the sort of post that would allow a casual visitor to just pop in and say hi. I read a little, was enlightened by blog as a whole.
Catch me at Discount Cat Furniture"
You're kidding, right? And the exact same spam comment that we always poke fun at, too...nice!
No fucking shit. I can't believe the Discount Cat Furniture people have hit me, again! They're like a cult, or something. Should I click? Should I start spreading the word about Discount Cat Furniture? Holy fuck!
Nix says: I can make my own. A 2x4 and some shreds of carpet.
Nix says: And "I'll stab you to death" looks like a blog you could just pop in and say "hi"? What? I'll fucking kill you! But they were enlightened. Stupid Cat Furniture people.
Yo Nix, fucking amazing.. I grew up with a Dad that was a road musician.. he would come in from work at 5:00 am most times.. and as a kid, I remember staying up late in Lake of the Ozarks MO, first Star Trek was on, then some guy in a Vampire outfit would be on for the next 4 hours playing MC to two horror movies.. 4 and a half hours of bliss! I stayed up until 2:00 for the first few years of Elementary school..
Then when I was perhaps 8 or 9 we moved to Miami Florida.. where every Saturday, like fucking clockwork, Creature Feature would be on.. my Dad and I would sit on the couch together watching some of the worst Horror in history.. and some of the goofiest Sci-fi ever.. Have you ever seen “Angry Red Planet”? Makes Mothera vs. Godzilla look like LOTR in the special effects dept.
Later when I was about 11 my mom and Dad divorced.. I would stay up late , late , late every night, watching old b&w movies on Channel 6.. Big Wilson (The MC) and I became friends in my imagination.. I can still remember seeing for the first time (well first time I remember) Dracula with Bella Lagossi (sp) with Big Wilson MC’ing the action.. .. life was so simple then.. it was so sweet..
Perhaps having these good memories that revolve around horror movies is why I fucking LOVE Halloween? This year my wife wants to decorate the house for Christmas. I have to admit, I would rather have oral surgery sin novacaine than to hang stocking by the fire with care..
I have tried to dig into my oversion to christamas.. and have no good reason, but the whole thing makes my skin crawl..
Haloween? FUCK YES.. I would own a haunted house if I could..
DeRex says” I know I’m a sick fuck, what’s your excuse?”
Blog spam.. I like to google bomb them.. if they have a google account on their site.. go click it about 200 times a day for the next week or two, google will drop them like a hot potatoe in the shorts.
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