No Gein III: The Final Cut Part 8

Chapter Eight: A Familiar Face

March 14^th, 2007 Milwaukee, Wisconsin

“Welcome to your first comic book store!” Jonathan giddily announced while holding the door open for Stella. Walking into this strange new world that was Deranged Comics and Games, Stella saw unfamiliar faces looking her over. In the back, a heavy-set guy with big poofy hair sat at a table surrounded by a few other men as papers and dice lay scattered about. The table-top gamers stopped mid roll to stare at the store’s potential new customer.

“Hey, Jonathan,” a goth looking girl in a Wednesday 13 shirt greeted them with a smile, “so this is the is the girl you’d been telling me about!” Stella blushed nervously as she wasn’t always comfortable with people discussing her. Still, looking around at the other people in this store, Stella was glad to see this place wasn’t a total boys club. Stella gave a timid wave as the girl said, “I’m Rachel, the store manager. It’s great to have you here. What kind of things do you like to read?”

“Um,” Stella looked around at all the single issues, shelves filled with graphic novels tables covered in labeled boxes and answered, “all kinds of things I guess.”

“Alright, well these are our newer releases.” Rachel said while walking over a display rack against the wall covered with comics. “They’re all arranged alphabetically, and the boxes on the tables are older back issues. If you have any questions let me know.”

Stella nodded politely as Rachel went back behind the cash register. Looking at the comic book rack was like gazing upon an alien world, its god like citizens clad in spandex fighting the good fight for all time. Stella scowled at the sight of some of the barley dressed female fighters. “You know I was thinking,” she heard her boyfriend Jonathan say, “we should start a new charity.”

“Oh yeah, for what?” Stella asked, her eyes still perusing the titles.

“We should raise money to buy some more clothes for these female characters.” He quipped while holding up one of the offending floppys.

Stella rolled her eyes as she still wasn’t used to his cornball humor. “It’s a good thing I like you.” she said.

Looking back to the shelves, Stella noticed the titles displayed weren’t all spandex. She recognized some manga like Death Note and Oh My Goodness which her roommate Amber liked. There were a few horror books too, including what looked like several separate issues all with Halloween in their title.

“Rob Zombie’s Halloween.” Stella said out loud as she picked up her first comic book. The name Rob Zombie stuck out to her as she was a fan of his music and his House of 1000 Corpses movie.

“Oh, that’s right.” Jonathan went on to explain, “Rob Zombie was set to do a remake of the original Halloween, but the studio canned that so they could do Helloween. Zombie’s idea was for two movies,” Jonathan continued, “one about a young Michael Meyers in the sanitarium, the other basically redoing the Halloween night he escapes. This series is about Zombies first idea.”

“Wow, neat.” Stella said while taking issues 2-5 off the shelf.

Looking over her shoulder, her curly brushed against him as Jonathan leaned into her saying, “Supposed to be a six part series.” Jonathan then made his patented goofy smile and said, “I guess that means I’ll have to bring you back here for the sixth issue!”

He didn’t notice her blushing as his attention immediately diverted to the cover of another issue. It was a cyberpunk style collage of computer images straight out of the Matrix, only the monitors were dripping in blood. Jonathan quickly reached for issue one of Halloween: H2K Rebooted. Yanking the title off the shelf he said, “Check this out. Ever since Devil’s Due comics got the rights to the Halloween they’ve been doing all the follow ups to those anthology films. Pretty neat stuff.”

Jonathan then snatched Halloween title featuring a pair of dueling werewolves explaining, “Oh, this one is a crossover between Halloween Six and some 80’s TV show called Werewolf. Ever hear of that?”

“I don’t remember anything from the 80s. Do you?” She said teasing her boyfriend who was just a few years older.

“Oh, she burned you there Jonathan!” A thin man in a Bart Simpson T-shirt laughed as he approached and introduced himself to Stella. “Hi, I’m Aaron. Buying some Halloween comics huh?”

Stella nodded while looking down at her books. Aaron then asked, “Did you hear they’re doing a movie with Halloween and Hellraiser.”

“Helloween, right?” Stella responded, naming the title of next year’s crossover film.

“That’s right.” Aaron said excited. “Rumor is the cult leader from Halloween 3 is gonna get Michael Meyers and the characters from the anthology films; like the sea monster from H20 and the vampire from Resurrection, to team up against the Cenobites! Trying to top Freddy vs the Devil I guess.”

Another man approached and chimed in, “Hey Jonathan, that reminds me, did you hear they’re doing a comic crossing Pumpkinhead with Friday the 13^th? It’s gonna be called Devil of Evil, Demon of Vengeance.”

“No Paul, I haven’t.” Jonathan said, but looking at his shirt, filled with the image of the titular character from the hillbilly horror movie known as Pumpkinhead, he added “and I can’t tell who your money’s on either.”

Paul then laughed saying “Wow, my sarcasm detector is going off the charts.”

Aaron then mimicked holding a scanning device, and in a nasally voice said, “Oh, a sarcasm detector, that’s a really useful invention!”

While the four all laughed together Stella saw a familiar face walked out from the back of the store. “Jesus mighty, you guys need to make like Jon and get a girlfriend.” Stella knew she’d seen this man before, with his mustache and dyed orange hair, but she couldn’t remember where.

“Oh hey, it’s Harry, the owner.” Jonathan pointed to him and said to Stella, “This is guy is like the Howard Hughes of comics. Remember this moment as we don’t see him here that often.” Then looking to the shop’s owner he said, “Harry, this is Stella, you might not recognize her, as last time you saw her it looked like she was dancing in a barbecue pit.”

“Oh,” Harry recalled, excitedly pointing at her saying, “you were at the movie dressed up as Freddy Krueger.”

Stella shyly nodded as Harry complimented, “That was a great costume!”

“Thanks.” She wondered how much he meant it, given she was slim and not all buff like Nightmare on Elm Street’s Kane Hodder.

“Have you been finding everything OK?” The owner asked.

Stella held up her Zombie Halloween comics as John said, “Yeah, it’s your lucky day. She’s about to buy her first comics!”

“Awesome,” Eying the five titles she held Harry said “Just so you know, issue six of that will probably come out next week. Despite how Johnny boy here is crackin on me, I’m always here on Wednesdays. You can come by and pick it up then.”

“Sounds like a date.” Stella said.

“Well how about that!” Jonathan jokingly protested. “You know some guys have a story about losing their girl to Mick Jagger or Robert Plant, here I lost my girl to Comic Book Guy!”

By the following Monday Stella had forgotten all about that humorous exchange as she stared at the computer monitor. “Bleep, bleep, bleep,” and the sound of the clacking keyboard echoed through the dormitory. Over AOL instant messenger Jonathan informed Stella of a poetry reading at the coffee shop that would be held in two nights. The memories of their first date lingered in her nostrils as she recalled the smell of freshly ground coffee. Memories of hot java were replaced by the actual present aroma of melted butter. “Hey love bird,” Amber said “I made some popcorn. It’s almost showtime.”

“Oh right!” Stella realized she’d lost track of time and excitedly typed “c ya l8r” into the instant messenger chat window. She smirked as her computer instantly bleeped back with the message “Not if I see you first.” Stella then left her desk to join her roommates on the couch.

The A&E network was on the television and the station hyped its series premier. Bates Motel was a prequel to Psycho set in the 1970’s. Early in the episode, an old car with luggage tied to the top drives by the beautiful Oregon coast. To one side were mountains lush with greenery, while the other side small waves crept onto the sands as the scene was scored with soft piano music. The scene then cut to an interior shot of the car, driven by the youthful beauty that was Norma Bates. In the passenger seat, her teenage son Norman flipped through the radio dial, stopping on a news broadcast that altered the mood of the splendid scenery about them.

Stella’s ears perked up as she heard the familiar voice on the show’s car radio. “in one of the most shocking and brutal crimes in the annals of American history.”

“Who is that?” Stella wondered aloud.

“Oh right, I heard about this.” her flatmate Michelle answered. “That’s Jon Larroquette.”

“Larro-who?” Stella asked.

“He was on an 80s show called Night Court.”

“Did you watch that when you were a kid?” Amber coyly asked.

“Fuck, I’m not that old!” the senior student said while playfully tossing a piece of popcorn at her.

“Anyway,” Michelle added, “he did the opening narration in the Texas Chainsaw movies.”

“Oh, right.” Stella said.

“Yeah, I heard the guy that directed Chainsaw pitched for Larroquette to have this bit.” Michelle said, pointing at the screen. “He pitched the TV show to appease the studio after killing Norman off in Psycho II. In his notes he had this idea kind of backhandedly tying in Psycho with chainsaw.”

“Isn’t that that director that disappeared or something?” Amber asked.

“Yeah, Stella,” Michelle chimed in, “aren’t you reading a book about him?”

“Yeah?“

“So where is he?” Michelle asked.

“Buried at my house.”

Michelle laughed. “Stella you’re hilarious.” 

“Yeah, just kidding,” Stella said, “he’s tied up in my room.”

“Jonathan better not find out.” Amber cracked on her before asking, “but really what do you think happened to him?”

“I don’t know. The book talks about this obsessed fan he had who they suspect murdered his sister. They both disappeared, so who knows.”

“Man that’s fucked up. I heard he killed himself.”

Stella tensed as those words were spoken. She loved these girls. In her short time here they became like a new family to her, but not even they knew of that dark night she had all those years ago.

After the TV episode was over, Stella went back to her desk, carrying with her a peculiar feeling she just couldn’t shake. That book they were talking about sat at her desk. Thumbing through it, she found a picture of George Kohler. He looked heavier his face looked fuller than she remembered him looking on TV. It was an old picture from before he broke into the business. Back then he had this bombastically big poofy hair. As she focused on his eyes, there was a familiarity with him she couldn’t place, it wasn’t just from seeing him on TV. Placing a bookmark to keep the page she pulled out her sketch book. Her pencil scratched the pages, lines formed the facial features of the missing and possibly departed director. The top of the pencil floated up to George’s forehead, about to draw his massive mop of hair, but it stopped. Almost instinctively, the pencil drew a crew cut on the head instead. The wooden pencil then returned down to the face where it drew a small mustache above its lips. Her hand dropped the pencil as she looked down at her work. Her hand then reached for her colored pencils, her fingers gripped the utensil that was orange in color. Stella was able to see the finished product in her mind before she continued. Thinking back on her day, butterflies fluttered in her stomach as the thought fully dawned on her. It was not a sensation of fear, as if she had something to be afraid of, but it was a shock, a realization of a truth that had stood before her. Still looking down at her drawing while her hand effortlessly colored the sketch pad, she knew it was true. The resemblance was uncanny.

No Gein III: The Final Cut, Part Six

Chapter Six: Don’t Go In The House

Psycho: Movies, Murder, Madness and the Disappearance of George Kohler

Kohler’s Texas Chainsaw Massacre opens with a decayed corpse sitting atop a tombstone. After this shocking image, we get the film’s scant plot involving Sally and her brother checking on their grandfather’s grave after hearing news of several local cemeteries being desecrated. Along the way, they run into a family of cannibalistic murders, least of which is the newly named Leatherface; who replaces Saw-Man from the original 1974 film as the Chainsaw wielding maniac who dons several masks of human skin.

Along with its massive success, much controversy surrounded the 2003 remake. Victim’s rights groups suggested Kohler had taken inspiration from Milwaukee murderer Jeffrey Dahmer, whose apartment was found to have various skeletons and other human remains. The home of the maniacal family in Kohler’s Chainsaw film seemed to have taken cues from Dahmer, with its chairs covered in bones, human skin lampshades and bed posts made of skulls. However, was there possibly an earlier influence on this film that was unknown at the time?

Before his time in Hollywood, George was in correspondence with author Robert Bloch regarding an unproduced screenplay George wrote called Deranged. Bloch was a relatively successful novelist and television writer, but never attained true breakout success until his later years when he published the 1993 novel Psycho. Bloch personally arranged for the then unknown George Kohler to be the director on Psycho’s film adaptation, which closely follows the novel.

Norman Bates, an eccentric hotel owner devoted to his live-in mother, is the lead character in both the film and novel. Following several murders comes one of the great surprise endings in film, as it is revealed that Norman’s mother is actually long dead. Her body is preserved by her son and kept in her old bedroom. Even more shocking, Norman dresses as his dead mother, and, apparently suffering from dissociative personality disorder, “becomes” his mother, murdering anyone perceived to be a threat to her son. Psycho turned out to be more shocking to audiences than Silence of the Lambs which was released just a few years prior.

Published just before the author’s death, Bloch was very tight lipped about what inspired him to write such a tale. Upon closer inspection, the name Norman is close to the word normal. Norman of course is not normal, but desperately attempts to don the appearance of normalcy. This seemingly normal man lives in a secluded area with his fanatical mother while hiding a terrible secret. Parallels to Edward Gein are obvious.  

“What are you reading?” Stella’s father momentarily took his eyes off the road to ask.

Holding up the book cover she answered, “It’s about George Kohler.”

“Oh, wasn’t he that movie director?” he asked.

“Yeah.” she answered as her eyes diverted back to the pages.

“Didn’t his mom or somebody run into that Psycho down in Plainfield years ago?” He asked as his eyes focused back on the road.

“It was his Aunt.” she answered while continuing to read.

Thinking back to the local story that made global headlines he recalled. “Yeah, I remember that in the news a few years ago when they found all those bodies. Crazy stuff.” Then, glancing at her book, he added. “What ever happened to that director guy? Didn’t he vanish or something?”

“Yeah, this book talks about it. No one knows what happened. It says he had some crazy fans. Some of them wanted him to make a movie about that Plainfield guy but he didn’t want to. One theory is that a fan killed him.”

“I remember hearing that.” her father recalled. “One story I heard was he checked himself into the Mendota institution up in Madison. Who knows though; can’t believe everything you see on the internet right?”

Approaching their hometown of Amherst, he smiled as the sun hung ahead of them. He was so proud of his daughter. They’d both been through so much loss and hurt, but now he was a year sober, and she was off to college and seemed to have met someone special. He got to meet Stella’s boyfriend today when he picked her up from college. He seemed a little eccentric, but so was his daughter. Either way, Stella seemed really happy, happier than he’d seen her in a long time.

“So, Jonathan huh?” he said. “You really like this guy?”

“Yeah.” Stella said, blushing. She then turned away from her book and looked out the window, the flat plains of Wisconsin lay stretched out to the horizon.

“Well that’s great.” Her father said. “Listen, you know I love you, and, and I know,” he was stammering his words now, “I know you’re not a little kid anymore.” It grew more and more uncomfortable for him the closer he got to the subject. “Just use protection, OK?

“Dad!”

“Okay, okay!” As uncomfortable as that exchanged was, he had to laugh a little as it’d been a long time since he’d seen his daughter show so much emotion as she just had in that moment. “Okay, I’m just saying.”

Finally coming into their hometown, he saw a large white house on the side of the road. It looked empty now, but he was grateful for its presence and the opportunity it provided to change the subject. “That there’s a Kohler property.” He said pointing to the house. “From what I remember, George bought it for his dad.” He saw her glance at the building and its empty driveway as he continued. “Who knows, maybe he’s hiding out there.”

Her dad couldn’t stay long once they got home as he had to go in for the night shift at his new job. Once she dropped her things off in her old room, she went into what was her sister’s room. Before leaving for college, her father converted Juliana’s old room into a studio for Stella. He also kept a small desk there which he occasionally worked out of, so they both shared this space that once belonged to Juliana. In a way, it helped them both heal. Using this room helped them to move on. They both agreed to keep one thing of Julianna’s, her trophy case remained intact, still glowing in the light of the room.

Stella sat at the chair in her desk. Looking at the spot where Juliana’s bed used to be, she remembered and reflected. Her short time in university was the best time of her life, probably better than all of her life before that really. Now looking at the window at the lonely landscape outside, she thought about how she was now back in this place where she didn’t have any friends. At least spring break was only a week. She supposed she could call Meghan, that girl she knew from high school, but she was probably busy. Stella made no real plans for this week. It’s not like she could afford go to Palm Beach or wherever other college kids on TV go for Spring Break. Tomorrow she would give Jonathan a call, but tonight she intended to just stay home and read. However, as the book cover faced up, looking back at her, and she could only think of one thing.

The sun was so far behind her now. As it dipped into the horizon Stella rode her bike down the gravel road towards the large white house ahead of her. Placing her bike in the nearby tree line, she crept toward the house and the looming darkness around it. No lights were visible inside and as she ascended the creaky porch steps she had no idea what she would tell do should she find anyone. “Hi George, I’m Stella, I’m a big fan of your movies and I just wanted to see if you were hiding here.” What could she say? “Hello.” was all she could think of as she wrapped on the door. No curtains hung from any of the windows of the house. Placing the edge of her hands around her forehead she pressed her face towards the large pane of glass on the front porch. Looking inside, most of the furniture was gone. There was an old dusty couch and a few cardboard boxes, but otherwise it looked empty. She jumped and quickly turned around as a breeze blew accompanied by a loud banging noise, it sounded like wood banging on wood. There was nothing behind her, and she realized the sound was coming from around the back of the house.

Walking around the perimeter of the home, Stella noticed a security camera posted to the wall. It remained still, and, looking closer, she realized its light was off. It was long dead. Coming to the back of the house, she found the source of the noise. The back door was open, occasionally slamming shut with the wind. “Hello.” she spoke again as she poked her dead inside. There was still no answer. She pulled a flashlight out her backpack, bringing a little light  into the house while the sun faded away. Inside the kitchen, the refrigerator sat silently. No light emerged from within as its door opened revealing empty contents inside. Walking up the steps to the second floor she found each of the bedrooms to be empty, except one.

This must have been George Kohler’s home. Horror posters remained on the wall, including Friday the 13^th Part VIII, the Devil Takes Manhattan, and the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Next to Saw-Man and his chainsaw the text of the poster read, “Who will survive and what will be left of them?” This room was like a shrine to horror movies. Various props and memorabilia sat about. Stella noticed a prop knife along with a wig and dressed that looked like it was from Psycho. A prop chainsaw hung on the wall. There was also a desk with a stack of papers. Rummaging through the desk drawer, she’d found an old, typed screenplay called Deranged, written by George Kohler dated 1989. Flipping through the script, inside the first few pages were photographs. A few of them looked like they were George when he was young. Most of them were of a woman, whom Stella realized was his sister. “Such a shame,” Stella thought to herself. All the other rooms were bare, no clothes, no other personal items, but this room remained intact. Why would all this stuff have been left here?

Looking down, Stella realized that wasn’t the strangest thing about this room. A series of cuts were visible on the floor. Kneeling down, her fingertips traced the grooves in the wood. There were four short cuts, and they weren’t random. In fact, as the frame of her upper body faced downwards, Stella realized the top two marks lined up with her shoulders. Standing up she continued looking down and realized the bottom two marks would have lined up with her hips had she been laying there. These marks weren’t deep and weren’t clean cuts that would have been made with a knife or an axe. It looked like someone took a power tool to the floor. It looked like the marks of a chainsaw.

That wooden door downstairs was still banging, sending echoes through the house, but now there was another sound, the sound of footsteps. Someone else was in the house. Now it was several footsteps she heard, followed by the sound of giggling. “Time to get fucked up.” an adolescent male voice said followed by the crackling sound of an aluminum can opening.

“I’m already high man.” the voice of another boy followed.

Stella quietly crept to the bathroom as the commotion continued downstairs. Luckily the door was able to be locked. At least she wouldn’t get in trouble for trespassing, she thought to herself, as whoever these kids were, they were trespassing themselves.

“I heard that movie director haunts this place.” She heard the first voice say.

“Bullshit.” She heard the other voice reply.

“No man, he was in a cult and summoned up some demonic shit here. They say the devil took his soul.”

Stella almost laughed as she heard the juvenile speculation. It sounded like there was only two of them, but there was still only one of her. She could remain hidden in this bathroom if worse came to worse, but she was long passed tired of hiding. Besides, rummaging through her backpack, she found an old makeup kit. Looking in the cracked mirror, she had an idea.

“What was that?” One of the voices said as the soundtrack from the Psycho movie played on Stella’s Walkman. Its volume was turned up all the way so the sound from the headphones filled the empty house.

“Sounds like its upstairs.” the other voice said as their footsteps approached the stairwell. Their own flashlights shined up to the second floor and screams followed, for what these boys saw seemed inhuman. Borrowing from the special edition of the Exorcist, released just a few years prior, Stella did a spider-walk down the steps. Her hands served as feet as her chest faced the ceiling leaving her head hanging upside down. Makeup formed red and black shapes around her face as her mouth hung agape releasing a terrible screeching sound. The boys almost fell over screaming before frantically running out the door, dropping their beer cans behind them and abandoning their six packs.

Adrenaline still rushed through Stella as she rode her bike home. The night breeze blew softly on her still made-up face. Anyone who might happen to drive by and see her might have been scared to death, but fortunately no one else was around. For once, the solitude of Kodak country was a comfort to her as she rode home in the night. She laughed to herself as she thought back to those boys running out of the house in terror. Still, this humorous thought couldn’t smother that creeping feeling she had. As her own house lay ahead, the warm lights still glowing inside, one horrible thought rattled in her mind. Did she just see the place where George Kohler was murdered?

No Gein: Leftovers. Halloween H2K Chapter Five

December 27^th: 1999 Milwaukee Wisconsin

Franklin and his family went to the big city for a religious retreat; where they’d be spending New Year’s Eve singing hymns and waiting for the apocalypse, anxiously awaiting the apocalypse in Franklin’s case. Thinking back on the events of this past year, he remembered those kids in Colorado. They were doing us all a favor, taking us one more step into the fiery abyss, burning the whole world down and taking out as many worthless souls as they could. Way in the back recesses of Franklin’s mind, he wasn’t entirely sure if the world really would end in a few days. Just in case, he had one thing he wanted to do.

Sixty-Seven Wild Rose Lane, Franklin remembered where that guy from the message boards lived. He sent an email saying he’d be coming by, and the car was parked outside so Franklin knew he was home. After knocking on the door a couple times, Franklin paced back in forth in the cold. Soon, Patrick opened the door. “Hey, what’s up?” he said.

Franklin said only one thing. “Can I see it?”

“Good to see you too, dude.” Patrick laughed. “Come on in.” Entering the house, Patrick asked “How was your Christmas? Did you get lots of cool stuff?”

“Yeah, a few things.” Franklin didn’t want to reveal that his family only exchanged a few gifts this year, as his mother earnestly believed there wouldn’t be much time to enjoy Christmas presents.

Then he saw Patrick look up towards his staircase as annoyed as a female voice spoke from above. “Who is it?”

Patrick lowered his voice to say, “Just handled my business with this girl. Wait here, I’ll go get rid of her.” Patrick watched his friend ascend back up the steps. Soon he heard faint whispers from upstairs, including that incessant whining of a teenage girl which he heard all the time in school. “I guess girls in the big city bitch too,” Franklin thought to himself while looking around the living room. Hanging from the walls there were a few framed pictures of Patrick and his mother. It was a shame, his mother seemed nice. Franklin wished he would have had cool parents, but with any luck, after a few days it wouldn’t matter anymore.

Once again Franklin heard a pair of footsteps, this time they were descending. Franklin forgot about that annoying female voice when his eyes rested on her toned legs moving downward. Each step revealed more, as he soon saw her blue skirt with gold trim, and the rest of her body followed.

Patrick followed behind, or at least Franklin assumed she did. He still wasn’t looking at her face when Patrick said whatever it was her name was. “What’s up?” he heard her voice say. Franklin simply nodded and smiled; her voice no longer annoyed him.

Patrick then said, “Well, Franklin and I are gonna chill. I’ll call you later alright?”

“Awesome.” Her now cute voice replied. Her moist wet lips kissed his cheek before she gave Franklin a coy smile and walked away. Both Patrick and Franklin were now watching her legs as they walked toward the door and her body exited the house.

Franklin almost forgot why he came here as the door closed with a thud. The next sound he heard was the voice of his friend saying, “smell that,” as he put two fingers up to Franklin’s nostrils. Franklin’s head jerked back at the wet musty smell that was completely alien to him.

Patrick laughed at his reaction. “Come on man, don’t tell me your not getting any poon tang back home. You got a girl right?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure I am.” Franklin said.

Nodding his head Patrick said, “Alright, it’s cool. Let’s go upstairs.”

The two walked up the steps and into Patrick’s bedroom. It looked the same as the last time Franklin was here. His sports posters still adorned the wall and his trophy case remained intact. This hardly looked like the room of someone who’d won the Halloween H2K contest. He watched Patrick going into his closet, from which he pulled out a cardboard box. “This is it man.” Patrick said, placing the box on his bed.

Franklin was shocked. “You put it in the closet?”

“Can’t get head from the head cheerleader with this laying around my room.” he laughed while removing the lid. Franklin had no understanding of what he meant, but he approached this holy grail of horror while Patrick removed the contents.

First, Patrick pulled out a werewolf mask. “Halloween Six, Curse of the Werewolf.” Franklin said in reverence. Next, Patrick pulled out a prop ceremonial dagger, fake blood decorated its plastic blade. “Part Five, the Revenge of Samhain.”

Looking on as though witnessing an ancient archaeological dig, he heard Patrick say, “And the crown jewel.” He slowly raised the mask of the Shape, the mask of Michael Meyers, and presented it to his friend. The dead black hollow eyes of the mask stared at Franklin, who stared back in reverence.

“Can I,” Franklin nearly stammered, “can I put it on.”

“Sure, knock yourself out.” He tossed the mask to Franklin. It made a flopping sound as it landed in his hands. “I owe you one anyway.” Franklin looked down at the mask, tilting his head slightly to the left. This statement was confusing to him. When Franklin thought about all the people that owed him, Patrick was not on that list. “You helped me win that you know?” Patrick said while taking seat at his desk and booting up his computer. “I got stuck on that last code, but then I remembered what you showed me about Easter Eggs on DVDs. That’s how I found the last one.” Franklin wanted to scream, instead he pulled the mask over his face, its rubbery material covered his mouth. He could hear his own breathing as well as the sound of a lighter as Patrick lit up a cigarette. “Want one?” he asked, holding a pack in his direction.  Franklin said nothing, but the smoke from the just lit cigarette already made Franklin cough, ruining the aura of donning the mask. Stepping out of the room he heard Patrick say, “Bathroom is the last door on the left.”

Walking into the bathroom, he looked in the mirror to admire the sight of himself in the mask. The room was silent save the sound of his breathing. He could distantly hear the clacking of the keyboard. While he felt amazing with the mask on, he still felt like Franklin. Looking at the reflection of his skinny body donned in blue jeans and a red sweater, he didn’t feel like the Shape. He intended to relieve himself here, but he stopped cold in his tracks when he saw it. The used condom floating in the toilet was a reminder of what had just occurred in that bedroom. It wasn’t like he didn’t know; the scent of Patrick’s two fingers clued him in, but there floating before him was a mocking reminder of what he never had, what he never would have. Slowly turning away, he again caught his reflection in the mirror. Those dead black eyes stared back at him; his breathing echoed powerfully through the rubber surrounding his face. Now it had finally come, that secret signal had been sent to his brain, and the body standing before him was no longer Franklin, it was merely a shape.

Patrick laughed as the form of his friend stood in the doorway. “You make a good Michael Meyers.” he said sarcastically. The brain underneath that rubber mask screamed, “It’s not Michael Meyers it’s the Shape!” However, no sound emerged from the body’s mouth as it took a slow step forward. Looking back at the computer screen, it appeared Patrick was in some local chat room. “Hey, my friend Shaun is having a party tonight. Let’s check it out. They’re gonna have some wicked egg nogg.”

The body behind Patrick remained silent as the computer shut off. Patrick then stood up and faced his friend saying, “Come on, you’re not going to the party looking like that. We’ll get you some girls and you’ll forget all about this shit.”

The body before him remained motionless, making no sound except his breathing.

“Oh, so you’re Michael Meyers now. Come on let me get it back.” Patrick reached up for the mask but the body before him pushed his hands away. “What the fuck man!” Patrick pushed shoved the person before him, then got pushed back while reaching for this mask with his own hands. Patrick’s hands gripped the rubber mask; but a second pair of hands hung onto it like a petulant child. “You’re gonna rip the mask you asshole!” Patrick swung a body shot which made the shape before him recoil and release his hands. Patrick then ripped the mask off the child’s face. Franklin took a deep breath as beads of sweat fell from his cheeks to the floor.

Patrick then tossed the mask on his bed before saying, “Get the fuck out of my house!”

With all his strength and rage Franklin punched Patrick in the groin, bringing him to his knees. Still feeling the pain in his gut, Franklin knew the truth, he was no Shape. He could never take this guy in a fight. He knew there was only one chance as he reached for the thick power cord below Patrick’s desk. While Patrick’s hands still covered his groin, Franklin wrapped the cord around the teenager’s exposed neck. Patrick desperately tried to pull off, he was the stronger of the two, but Franklin wrapped the cord tightly around the boy’s throat. The victim desperately thrashed around the floor, but Franklin couldn’t let him get away. He couldn’t stand knowing someone else had gotten what was rightfully his. Not only did this boy win the prize, but he had friends, girls…sex.

His victim now had his stomach on the floor. Franklin thrust his hips forward pulling upward on the cord with all his strength. Patrick made one final thrash of his arms before the life left his body.

Rising back to his feet, Patrick looked at the Meyers mask as well as the other prizes that were now his by right of conquest. Grabbing a backpack from the closet, Franklin loaded the items into the bag, and quickly exited the house.

Running back to the Church where his family was staying, the night air chilled his lungs. If the world really was going to end in a few days, then at least he could spend his last days with the only things he loved.

Epilogue: August 25^th: 2003

Driving in his car, Franklin long forgot about how the world was supposed to end a few years back. He still felt like most of this planet wasn’t worth a damn, but that was only when he took time to think about it. A few years back, he was actually planning to follow in the footsteps of those kids in Colorado, but someone called him about a job. Before he graduated, someone recommended him to the local nursing home. Bernice and her husband lived there now, and he always got along with them. Now that he was out of school, he was working at their full time, and he kind of liked it. He was still living at home, but his dad stopped drinking, and his mom wasn’t on his case as much now that he was bringing in some income.

Also, in an amazing turn of events, things were actually a little exciting around town. A few weeks ago some remains turned up just a few miles away from where he lived. Looked like someone was trying to wipe out this boring place long before he’d thought of it. “Too bad he didn’t get them all,” he thought to himself. Driving back to work from his lunch break, the radio had the latest news. The local sheriff called a press conference, and a huge bombshell was dropped. The property on which the bodies were found was once the residence of a solitary figure by the name of Edward Gein. Apparently, around 50 years ago, Ed had murdered a local bartender, but that was not the least of his crimes. According to the sheriff, one night, almost half a century ago, the local authorities had discovered, and covered up, the fact that Ed Gein had robbed almost ten graves in the area, before dying and before his property burned to the ground.

Hearing this amazing news, Franklin felt a tingling sensation in his hands while they gripped the steering wheel. He had to pull over to the side of the road as he began hyperventilating. Hearing this news, he could never have imagined, never in his wildest dreams, that something this awesomely gruesome could occur in his own backyard. He knew right then and there this was about to become his new obsession.

Something else occurred to him. Edward Gein, he’d heard that name before, but where? Who would have possibly known him that would ever bring his name up. Looking down at his name badge for the nursing home, he thought perhaps Bernice would know something about this.

Finally catching his breath, he looked at the tree close to him on the side of the road. The branches looked oddly shaped, bending in a way he didn’t think branches could bend. A buzzard sat perched on a thick branch and glared at him with dead black eyes. There below the leaves, a man stood. Frankling hadn’t noticed him before, but he wore a red hunters cap, had a weird lopsided grin, and a saggy baggy eye.

The End

Stay tuned for Franklin’s awful exploits in the final entry of the No Gein saga,

No Gein III: The Final Cut!

No Gein: Leftovers. Halloween: H2K Part 3

Milwaukee Wisconsin, August 15^th, 1999

“In fulfillment of Bible prophecy, the world today is beginning to speak the same language. We are satellite- and Internet-connected. We are fast moving toward a cashless economy, a one-world government, a one-world court and a one-world church. We are building a universal city with a one-world church whose tower reaches into heaven.”

“Just like the Tower of Babel!” Franklin’s mother shouted in enthusiasm while other members of the congregation clapped and cheered in agreement. Jerry Falwell’s sermon continued.

“But the Trinity has come down and looked us over,” the reverend said, “and it seems that God doesn’t like what he sees. He may be preparing to confound our language, to jam our communications, scatter our efforts and judge us for our sin and rebellion against his lordship. We are hearing from many sources that January 1, 2000, will be a fateful day in the history of the world.”

Franklin stood up and cheered. Caught up in the moment, he briefly forgot about his mind off his nearly passed out drunk father sitting next to him. Since he lost his job last year he’d taken to the bottle while his mom took to religion. Deciding they needed to escape the sin and debauchery that she claimed gripped their tiny town of Plainfield, Franklin’s mother took the family to the big city of Milwaukee for a religious retreat. Franklin was familiar with Falwell. He remembered a few years ago the reverend said something about one of the Teletubbies being gay. Franklin wasn’t sure about that, but he hoped Falwell was right about January first. Back home, the church his mom drug him to preached hard on the Y2K scare that was in the news and how it was a sign of God’s judgement. At first Franklin was annoyed at having to get up early on Sunday mornings, but a wrathful god massacring humanity sounded pretty awesome. In the last few months he’d been obsessed with those Columbine kids who massacred their school. Reading some of their journals that were posted online, and he started to think both them and God had the right idea. Fuck the world and everyone in it, blow this place to smithereens and start again. Maybe almighty God will get creation right next time.

Like all the speakers before him, Falwell started hawking his book and other merchandise to the crowd before him. Franklin looked at his watch impatiently as the program was running over. After hearing one last plug of merch he looked to the door behind him. One of the local ministers made an announcement that after a short break the adults would have special small group sessions and there would be some programming for the youth.

“Oh wonderful, you can make some new friends.” His mom said.  

“Mom I’m going to meet my friend, you know that.”

“Oh, dear just go check it out. It will be fun.” She said before she and Franklin’s dad went to the adult study.

Franklin felt agitated as he got off the bus. According to the horror message board he frequented, Patrick was going to LARP with some people in nearby Cooper Park. Franklin planned to meet him there, but he was late. He never tried Live Action Role Playing Before. No one in his little shit town would have the imagination to try something that cool. He looked around the park and didn’t see anything yet. Then he spotted a girl dressed in all black standing next to a guy that was big like a football player. The girl’s bright red lipstick was noticeable from afar, when he approached, she smiled at him, her exposed jaw revealed a set of plastic vampire teeth.

“Hey Franklin.” He turned around at the sound of a male voice to see a teenager, dressed kind of normal, t shirt, jeans, Air Jordon’s, but he was carrying a plastic crossbow so Franklin presumed he was a LARPer. “Patrick, good to meet you. Sorry you missed the LARP. We ended up starting early.” Nodding his head to the other guy he said, “Tim here has to go in for early football practice.”

“Hey I’m Tim, nice to meet you.” the other teenager said waving his large hand at him. Franklin said nothing as Tim said “Sorry, I gotta head out.”

“Later.” Patrick said as Tim walked away with his arm around the vampire girl.

“He plays football?” Patrick said in disgust.

“Yeah, he’s cool. He also plays in my Shadowrun campaign.” Patrick said, referring to the cyberpunk themed table top role playing game. Patrick couldn’t conceive of a jock being a gamer. He didn’t have a lot of time to ponder this as Patrick asked, “So, you want to hang at my place?”

Later, walking into Patrick’s house, Franklin asked, “Aren’t your parents home?”

“Well, I just live with my dad and he’s at work.”

“Sweet.” Franklin said as he followed Patrick up the steps. He wished he didn’t have to live with his mom. Walking into Patrick’s room, Franklin expected a shrine to horror movies. What he saw were posters of sports figures he didn’t recognize. He looked confused as he stared a few athletic trophies set up in a display case.

“Those are for track.” Patrick explained before asking. “What sports do you do?”

That question was preposterous. “Uh, I’m, I’m not into sports really.”

“All about the scary movies huh?” Patrick said, picking up the Night Skies DVD. “Cool, well, you want to check this out then.” Patrick had Night Skies Four, Kayeri, the direct to DVD sequel that came out last year.

Franklin nodded and Patrick loaded the DVD player. Picking its remote control, he said “On the forums you said something about Easter Eggs?”

“Yeah, if you fiddle around on the menu screen.” Franklin took the remote control from Patrick’s hand and pointed to the TV screen.” “Look here,” he explained, “it doesn’t look like the cursor can go here, but watch.” Pushing the left arrow button on the remote, an area of the screen was highlighted that wasn’t highlighted before, indicating this was an item to be selected.

“Oh cool, how did you do that?

“Like this.” he said, holding up the remote. Pushing the directional buttons, Franklin moved the menu icon back and forth. Them after clicking the icon on the hidden spot, a deleted scene was loaded.

“Wow, that’s awesome!” Patrick said as the gigantic star filled sky of the southwestern united states appeared on the screen. The two teenagers watched as the sound of a Native American wind instrument drummed through the speakers of Patrick’s small TV. On the screen, the camera panned down to the image of a campfire. A mother and daughter sat among their fellow tribesmen.  Looking up at the sky, the mother said  “Our people have stories about a tribe that flew on an eagle all way up into the heavens.” The child’s eyes widened with wonder as her mother went on. “They flew so far away they had to live among the stars.”

“Really, they’re speaking English?” Patrick laughed.

“Listen to this part.” Franklin said urgently. To him, this wasn’t hanging out and socializing, this was getting his friend up to speed.

They both resumed watching as the woman explained that that one day this special tribe will come back to their lands. Just then, a flurry of shooting stars streaked across the sky. “Is that them?” The young girl excitedly pointed her tiny finger up to the heavens.

“Maybe,” the mother said, “maybe they’re coming to take you away!” The young girl laughed as her mother proceeded to tickle her. “OK, that’s enough stories. It’s time for you to go to bed.”

Later, while the young girl lay down beneath the open sky, she could not bring her self to close her eyes. Her gaze remained fixed on the sights above her. One of the shooting stars she’d seen seemed to have been moving slower, almost hovering over her people. In fact, it looked like the light was drawing closer. It’s bright white glow grew larger and larger. The rest of her people slept as she watched in wonderment this ball of light landing on the Earth as though it were a giant eagle. No sound was made as it appeared to touch the soil. Her eyes unable to move from it, the young girl said but two words. She drug out the syllables as she spoke, it was a phrase the filmmakers knew the audience would be familiar with.

“They’re here.”

“Cool, I remember I was a little kid when Heather O’ Rourke died.” Patrick said, referring to the child actor who starred in the original Night Skies film, and tragically passed in the late 80’s.  “That really sucked.”

“Yeah, she could have been in the TV show.” Patrick referred to the Night Skies spinoff TV series that aired on the sci-fi channel.

“Uh, yeah,” Patrick said, turning to his computer. The sound of the 56K modem indicated that he was connecting to the internet. “Anyway, you want to watch the movie a bit.” Franklin agreed and selected the ‘play feature’ option on the menu. They continued to make small talk while the movie played and Patrick typed on the keyboard. The familiar bleeping sound of AOL messenger occasionally accompanied the sounds from the movie. Soon Patrick asked, “You got a girl back home?”

“Uh, yeah there’s this girl back home. Lindsey.” Her name hung from his lips, like honey on a spoon that was just out of reach.

“Cool.” Patrick continued typing on his keyboard. After a few minutes he said “Hey, what time do you have to get back?”

Looking at his watch, Franklin said “Yeah, I should probably get back soon.”

“That’s cool. I’m gonna go meet this cheerleader chic in a bit, but I can give you a ride if you need it?”

“Sure.”

Later, after saying goodbye to Patrick, Franklin entered the church where he saw his mom kneeling in prayer with the minister. His father looked at him, his eyes betraying no emotion but his mother immediately looked back after the sound of the door opening. “Oh my heavens where were you?” She rushed up to her feet and came toward him. “We were just about to call the police.”

“Told you he was fine.” His father said. Smiling and nodding at his son he speculated, “Probably out with some girl.”

“No,” Franklin responded, frustrated. “I told you I was out with Patrick.”

“Who’s Patrick?” His mom asked.

“I told you who Patrick is.” Franklin couldn’t believe his mother’s ignorance. “That guy I met online.”

“Wait,” The minister interrupted, “You met a man online and you went to his house?”

“He’s my age.” Franklin said annoyed. “I came on this trip so I could meet him.

“And what were you doing with him?” His mother said, still concerned.

“God mom, we just watched a DVD.”

“Son,” the minister interupted again, “was this a pornographic DVD?

“No you asshole, it was Night Skies IV!”

“Franklin!” his mother scolded. Meanwhile, his father looked at his watched, appearing just as annoyed as Franklin was.

“It’s OK.” The minister said to Franklin’s mother. “Franklin, you have to be careful about meeting people on the internet.”

“I only came on this trip so I could meet him, and I hardly got to hang out with him because your crap went on all day!” Then, turning to his parents, he said. “Now come on let’s go home.” He stormed out of the church and walked towards his parents’ car. He couldn’t believe in the stupidity of these people. Sitting in the car, fuming, he thought to himself, there was one thing he hoped these people were right about. He hoped the world really did end this year. If he ever would have prayed, he would have prayed for this planet to be obliterated. Watching his mother sobbing while coming out of the church, his father meekly following behind, he cursed his lot at having to be raised by these idiots. As they opened the doors and plopped themselves down in the car seats, he thought to himself, if they’re still alive in the new millennium, he might have to do the finish them off himself.

No Gein: Leftovers, Halloween H2K Part One

12/31/1998 Plainfield, Wisconsin.

“Man, I can’t believe they ended the streak!” Tommy complained as he carried a case of Coke into the kitchen.

“Wait,” Ben said as he followed behind with several bags of chips. “Goldberg got beat?” Ben was shocked at what he’d just heard. Goldberg, the World Championship Wrestling superstar, had gone 173-0 into his title defense at Starrcarde, a Pay Per View event that occurred just four days prior. “That’s bullshit.” Ben protested, putting the chips on the kitchen table. Ben then noticed Bernice, Tommy’s great grandmother and host of their New Year’s Eve party standing right there. “Oh, sorry Mrs. Worden.” he said.  

“Oh, that’s OK dear.” Bernice laughed, waving her hand dismissively.

Her husband Ronnie sat next to her and laughed as well, adding “Yeah, you kids hear worse than that on South Park.”  

“You know that wrestling’s all just a show, right?” Lindsey rhetorically asked while bringing in a bag of popcorn.

“I know, but it’s still bullshit.” Ben answered his girlfriend before asking Lindsey’s brother Tommy, “Anyway, how’d they do it?”

Tommy then gave a recap of the predetermined bout. “Scott Hall came down to ringside and zapped Goldberg with a taser. Then Nash power bombed him and got the pin.”

 “That totally sucks.” Ben responded.

“Well, I don’t mind seeing more of Kevin Nash.” Bernice’s round face lit up as she chimed in. “They don’t call him big sexy for nothing!”

Tommy turned to his great grandfather via marriage and joked “You hear that, Ronald? You might have some competition.”

Ronald responded by holding up his cane and boasting “I’ll take him on in a steel cage!” Adding, “Wouldn’t be the first time I had to fight for her.”

“Maybe they’ll book a Bernice Worden on a pole match.” Ben joked, referring to one of the gimmick matches used on wrestling programming.

“Oh, trust me, there’s no competition for my Ronnie.” Bernice playfully put his arm around her husband of forty years before saying, “As a matter of fact, I’ve started calling him big sexy!”

“Nanna!” Lindsey blushed in embarrassment.

“You laugh but you’ll get old someday too.” Ronnie retorted, squeezing his wife’s hand. They’d been blessed with a long happy marriage. Ronnie, in fact, was Bernice’s second husband, but Bernice had been the longtime owner of the local Worden’s hardware store. It never bothered Ronnie that most people in the town still called her Mrs. Worden.

Soon Tommy, Lindsey and Ben went into the living room where they joined some of their other high school classmates watching Dick Clark on the big screen TV. Bernice and Ronald followed behind when they heard a knock at the door. “Come in.” Bernice said. Ben felt a little uncomfortable seeing the scowls some of his classmates gave his childhood friend Franklin walking through the door.

Bernice, however, was happy to see him. “Oh Franklin. How are you?” she happily greeted. Then, noticing the stack of Tupperware containers he was carrying she asked, “What do you have there?”

“Mother baked some cookies.” Franklin answered.

“Oh, that’s great well you can put them in the kitchen.” Bernice said.

Ben then stood up, saying “Here I’ll give you a hand with those.” before taking one of the containers off his friend.

Following Franklin into the kitchen Ben asked, “We were just talking about Starrcade, did you see it?”

“Yeah, you know Nash is the booker now, right?” Ben was confused at this ‘booker’ term his friend used, not knowing it referred to the person in a wrestling company who determines the outcomes of the matches. “So, of course he booked himself to win the title.” Franklin prattled on. “Did you see Nash challenged Goldberg for a rematch for next Monday. I bet it ends with a run in from Hall. Same old predictable shit!” he concluded while carelessly tossed the Tupperware container he was carrying on the kitchen table.

Ben was used to Franklin’s conversations going on like a runaway train. In an attempt to derail Franklin’s complaints about the modern state of professional wrestling he said, “OK, well thanks for coming man. We’re gonna have a good time.”

“Yeah, especially because we got this.” Franklin pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels from his winter coat.

“What are you doing with that?” For the second time tonight, Ben was in shock.

“Stole it from my dad’s cabinet.”

“You can’t be doing that!” Ben nearly shouted. 

“Chill out, he’ll be so blank tonight he won’t even notice it’s gone.”

Looking out in the living room in a panic, Ben insisted “Look it’s disrespectful to Bernice. Put that away!” Ben was no angel, he and Lindsey occasionally snuck a few beers out in the fields, but all their parents trusted Bernice and Ronnie to host a New Year’s Eve party without any shenanigans.

“OK, sorry man.” Franklin said. Ben knew Franklin got the message, as he always got on well with Mrs. Worden.

Tucking the bottle back in his winter coat Franklin asked, “So, you think they’ll want to watch the trailer?”

Once again Ben was confused. “What trailer?”

“You know, on the Sci-Fi channel.”

“The Sci-Fi Channel?” Ben was always patient with Franklin, but his patience was beginning to wear thin. He knew no one else in this house would want to watch the Sci-Fi Channel on New Year’s Eve.

“Yeah, you know,” Franklin’s tone suggested he fully expected his only friend to fully comprehend what he meant. “At midnight the Sci-Fi channel is going to show the H2K trailer.”

“H2K?” Once again, Ben had no idea what his friend was talking about.

“Yeah, the new Halloween movie that will be out next year.”

“Dude, it’s New Year’s Eve! We’re here to watch the ball drop. Besides, the Spice Girls are gonna be on. Wouldn’t you rather see them?” The disappointed look on Franklin’s face suggested he had no interest in the quintet of sexy British singers that were all the rage this past year. He should have expected as much out of his nerdy friend. “Tell you what,” Ben conceded, “I’m sure it will turn up online. You can come over my house later next week and I’ll download it OK?”

Franklin nodded, seemingly agreeing to his friend’s suggestion. Then they both heard the sound of female laughter. From the kitchen Ben could see Lindsey sitting on the living room couch. She was wearing that red and green holiday themed sweater which was his present to her this past week. Her brown hair shined as the still hanging Christmas lights blinked above her like stars floating above a calm sea.

“So,” the voice of his friend brought Ben out of his brief trance. “You’re here with Lindsey?”

In the TV room Ronnie asked, “You playing basketball this year?”  

“Yeah, we’re gonna have a good season.” Lindsey answered confidently, adding “I hope we win districts this year.” She then noticed her friend and teammate Lynda staring blankly off to the side. “What do you think Lynda?” she asked.

“Yeah, I hope so.” Lynda’s voice held no enthusiasm, but she did add, “Amhurst has a good team though.” referring to another school district not terribly far from their tiny little town.

“What’s wrong Lynda, not feeling the holiday spirit?” Lindsey asked.

Staring into the kitchen, Lynda blurted out, “Can I just ask, who invited him?”

Lindsey didn’t like hearing one of the girls complain about Franklin’s presence, but at the same time, she understood. “I think Ben did.” she replied.

“Why?” Lynda asked with a sternness in her voice. “Doesn’t it bother you that he’s friends with that weirdo?”

“Oh, you kids.” Bernice interjected. “Franklin is such a nice boy.”

“You just think he’s nice because he asks you about scary stories all the time. His dad’s a total drunk, you know my mom said he….” Her jaw then froze as she saw Franklin had entered the room with Ben following behind.

Franklin ignored the comment Lynda was about to make, and mostly kept to himself as the night went on. The youths enjoyed the cookies and snacks provided as they watched Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve, and in time Franklin’s presence went almost unnoticed, as if he were an invisible member of the party. As it drew close to midnight, the moment Ben previously spoke about arrived. All the boys grinned as the Spice Girls performed on the TV. While watching them dance Ben felt a pair of arms wrap around his neck. He could feel the wool from the sweater he’d purchased brush against his skin as Lindsey’s red lips whispered in his ear “So, which Spice Girl would I be.”

“Hmm, that’s a tough choice.” Ben answered as he reached up and playfully squeezed her hands.

A whisper again slipped into his ear as he felt her hot breath say, “Well you can figure it out upstairs.” His eyes then watched her body coyly walk away and ascend up the steps. Ben waited a few minutes before standing up himself. He made like he was going to walk into the kitchen but then quickly turned toward the steps. Quickly glancing back, everyone’s eyes were still on the TV watching the Spice Girl’s performance, except Ronnie. Ben froze as Ronnie looked directly at him, but then Ben noticed the mischievous grin on the old man’s face. Ronnie nodded at him, indicating he knew exactly what the score was before turning his gaze back to the sexy women dancing on the screen.

As Ben climbed to the top of the steps, he saw Lindsey’s slim figure standing in the dark, her arms stretched out waiting for him. She gave a quick kiss on the lips before leading him by hand down the dark corridor. Stopping at a door, she turned around to whisper, “When I was a kid I would stay in this room.” She then audibly gasped, something had startled her. Ben then noticed a faint light coming out the crack of the door, accompanied by inaudible sounds.

“Looks like someone beat you to it.” Ben said, figuring some other couple snuck in here with the same idea. He saw the giddy look on Lindsey’s face as she slowly pushed the door open, expecting to catch some young lovers in the act. Her body then jumped back, in the faint electronic glow Ben could see Lindsey cover her mouth. Before Ben could ask what was wrong, she stormed in her old room and said one word.

“Franklin!” There he was, sitting on the floor by himself, bottle of Jack to his side, and the TV providing the only light in the room. Ben recognized the planet like symbol on the bottom right corner of the TV screen as well as the end credits of show Franklin apparently was just watching. Night Skies, a TV spin-off of that 80’s Spielberg movie about alien abductions, was one of the few things Ben and Franklin shared these days. Franklin came over every week to watch it with him, even though he often complained about it, just like he complained about wrestling; but, like wrestling, he never missed an episode. Sometimes Ben wondered if Franklin just came over to get away from his parents.

“Shh” Franklin was visibly annoyed as he looked back at Lindsey saying, “The trailer’s about to come on.”

Franklin turned back to the TV excited as he watched a clock on the screen counting down. Once it hit zero, he was again visibly annoyed by the cheering downstairs. The new year of 1999 meant nothing to him. The most important thing in his universe at this moment was the trailer for the new Halloween movie.

Leaning closer to the TV screen to turn the volume up, the speakers on the TV emitted sound of keystrokes as digital letters appeared on the screen. Several keystrokes spelled out the words Halloween, apocalypse, then the sound of a 56k modem connecting filled the television speakers as something else was typed on the screen, the number 2000.  

The trailer then cut to some characters who looked like technicians working in a computer lab. One of the female technicians who wore a strange necklace said some lines about the druid calendar. Franklin knew this exposition was just bullshit for the movie, but he listened as the on-screen character explained how the druids believed, according to this movie, that the end of time would not come on January first, as some were predicting with the recent Y2K scare, but on October 31rst. The older male technician said one word in his thick British accent. “Halloween.”

That familiar theme music from the John Carpenter franchise hit as he heard a familiar voice rap over it. Franklin was alien to the world of Hip Hop, but he recognized the voice from Halloween Resurrection of the Vampire. Franklin was pretty sure it was the same rapper from that early 90’s soundtrack that he was hearing now. The lyrics went hard as various characters appeared to come to mysterious deaths. Franklin’s eyes scanned the screen for Easter eggs. It was just a flash of a moment, but on the screen, it was shown someone was looking at a website about the sea monster from Halloween H20. Franklin’s mother took him to see that movie, what was just over a year ago now seemed like another life, before his dad lost his job and found the bottle. Franklin’s momentary lapse in concentration ended as the title Halloween H2K was typed out on the screen. After a quick flash of light another set of text appeared, www.h2k.com

“That was awe…” Franklin excitedly turned around but stopped mid-sentence to see Ben and Lindsey’s embrace. Outside, through the window, fireworks spread across the empty sky. Inside, the couple’s lips were tightly locked, Franklin watched Ben’s hand move up his girlfriend’s torso, inching oh so close to her breast, but it stopped as both their eyes opened to see their nerdy friend kneeling before them, bottle of Jack in hand.

Lindsey gasped aloud as Ben looked down with pity to say. “Oh, sorry bud.” Franklin remained silent. He simply turned away to switch the TV off as he heard Ben say one more thing. “Happy New Year.”

No Gein: Leftovers. Clarice, The First Taste Part Four

The Final Friday of August, 1993

“You can’t wear that on a date!” Emily complained regarding her granddaughter’s black t-shirt. It’s white skull like image on the front underneath a Misfits logo didn’t seem very lady like.

“We’re just going to the movies grandma.”

“Times of changed!” Whitman laughed while standing in the doorway of her bedroom.

“Tell her grandpa!”Clarice looked in the mirror putting the finishing touches on her makeup. Black lipstick was applied while Danzig’s melodic “Sistinas” played on her CD player.

Resigning to her granddaughters outfit, Emily looked her over. Finally giving her approval, her eyes welled up as she said “Out little girl’s first date. I wish your father were here to see this.”

Clarice’s own eyes grew moist as she replied “I wish my mother were here.”

This sweet moment was interrupted by the sound of a horn blaring. “Oh, that’s him!” Clarice said, quickly wiping her tears. “Shit, my mascara.” she looked in the mirror saw her makeup was slightly running.

“Here dear, I’ll touch it up for you.” her grandmother said approaching the mirror.

“No time!” Clarice said in frustration as she used a tissue to simply remove the makeup she’d just applied. The horn beeped again as she rushed out her bedroom door. “Sorry, I gotta go.”

Her grandparents followed her out of her bedroom to the living room, where out the window they could see the mustang in the driveway waiting to pick her up. “OK honey, have a good time and be safe.”

“OK I will, love you guys.” Clarice said as she rushed out the door.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Emily said as the figure of Clarice grew smaller as the distance between them grew.

Remembering his first date with Emily, Whitman playfully smacked her bum and said “Honey, there’s not a damn thing you wouldn’t do.” His wife giggled in response.

Watching the car drive away Whitman said “That’s a nice car.” Then, something just occurred to him. “You know, he didn’t even come in and introduce himself!”

“Times have changed!”

Darryl looked good with his shoulder length red hair and his Metallica shirt which fit tight to his body. “Hey Darryl.” She said excitedly while her eyes looked him over.

“Hey.” he simply said. He was so cool with his cigarette hanging out of his mouth, it’s glowing red tip bounced slightly as he drove. He removed the cigarette and asked “want some?” She immediately took it in her slender fingers and wrapped her black colored lips around the tip. Her lungs quickly filled with smoke and she coughed heavily. Her face turned beat read from the smoke as well as the embarrassment. Even worse was the sound of Darryl laughing, but it wasn’t a mocking cackling kind of laugh. He made more of a chuckle while taking the cigarette back. He then patted her on the back and asked if she was OK. She shook her head yes as she felt the heat from Darryl’s hand through her cotton made shirt. This sensation more than made up for her embarrassment. “Don’t worry about it, it’s cool.” Everything seemed cool about Darryl, from his jeans to his car to the Iron Maiden cassette tape playing in his stereo.

Naturally they sat in the back of the movie theater. Her body was excited to feel the caress of his hands, but she slowed him down occasionally, not wanting to go too far. When the film’s logo came on the screen, she did allow him to kiss her. His mouth was hot and tasted like ashes, but she didn’t care, she loved the feeling of his tongue inside her while his whiskers brushed against her cheeks. As the movie progressed they fooled around a little, she occasionally giggled which drew the ire of film goers in front of her.

Later during the film, as she again felt Darryl’s hand on her leg, something caught her attention. It was an evil looking tome, apparently bound in human skin with a horrific facial design on the front cover. Clarice was sure she’d seen it before but she couldn’t remember where, but when one of the characters from the Cult of Vorhees held the book up Darryl identified it.

“Cool, the Necronomicon.”

Clarice wasn’t dating Darryl for his brains, but she was impressed by his knowledge of this mythical book. “Oh, you read H.P. Lovecraft?” she immediately whispered.

 “Who?”

“Lovecraft, the guy that wrote about the Necronomicon.” Clarice explained, referring the the pulp writer who was a bedrock of American horror.

“You mean he wrote Evil Dead?” Darryl asked, thinking she was referring to the Sam Raimi horror flicks in which the tome also appeared.

“No silly, like Call of Cthulu and stuff like that.” This boy might have been cute, but she was getting annoyed by his ignorance as well as some one shushing them a few rows up. From here on out the two of them were quieter. She happily held his hand on her lap, but now her full attention was on the movie. Darryl also turned his gaze to the naked breasts that occasionally graced the screen before the Jersey Devil, the killer of this decade plus long franchise, disposed of the horny teenagers.

The climax of the film had the full attention of both Darryl and his date as the Devil got stabbed with what both Clarice and Darryl recognized as the mythical Kandarian dagger from Evil Dead 2. Clarice cheered the Devil on as it fought off demonic hands that now reached up from the ground trying to pull it down to hell. Then, the whole theater erupted in applause as that familiar bladed glove burst from the dirt. Actor Kane Hodder made a surprise cameo, leaping up from the earth in the role of Freddy Kruger from the Nightmare on Elm Street franchise. The film ended with Kruger pulling the Devil down to the depths of hell.

Riding in Darryl’s car after the movie, Clarice was a chatter box. “Wow, I can’t believe they put the Necronomicon in that movie. Do you think that means the Devil is really a Deadite?” she asked, referring to the zombie like creatures of the Evil Dead franchise. Darryl said nothing as he parked the car.

Clarice looked around, realizing her date parked in a secluded spot, she looked at him with a devilish grin saying “Perfect place to get slaughtered.” He then planted his lips on hers, his tongue pushed its away into her mouth again, and in no time they hopped in the back seat.

She was so hot for him, but he was getting a little rough. His lips wandered her cheeks and his teeth grazed her neck when she said “Could you slow down a bit.” He continued kissing her roughly as he lay on top of her, and it was getting hard to breath. Her hands tried pushing against his shoulders trying to make some space between the two of them but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the seat cushion.

Now it was getting even harder for her to breath. “Darryl.” she panted as he continued pressing against her body, her head moving down to her chest. “Darryl stop I can’t breath.”  He did not stop as she wiggled underneath him. Finally, in a panic, she kneed him in the groin. He cried out in pain and his body slightly rolled to her right. Her arms frantically reached for the door handle and, while still on her back, she managed to push the door open. Darryl leaned forward towards her and she kicked him in the chest, sending his body back to the opposite door. Tilting her head back she saw a man standing outside the car. It was Ed. Her brain didn’t have time to register why her childhood imaginary friend was here on her first date. She just knew he was standing there, his hands waved in a gesture suggesting “come on.” Her body wiggled out of the back seat of the car. She turned around as her skin hit the damp wet grass below. Brushing herself off as she rose to her feet, she saw Ed walking away, continuing his hand motions suggesting she follow her.

She took a few steps forward when she stopped at the sound of Darryl’s voice. “Fucking bitch.” he said, “You can walk home.” His laid against the back door rubbing his aching crotch when he said what would end up being his last words. “I should have stayed with Diane instead of a cocktease like you.”

Ed shook his head in sorrow as he witnessed the rage boiling in her face. He faded away into nothingness while Clarice turned around and dove back into the car. Lunging towards Darryl, just for a moment he looked excited, perhaps thinking he was about to get the fuck of his life. Her eyes were crazed as she wrapped her hands around his neck, the pain in his crotch was gone, replaced with the aching excitement of adolescent lust. That was the last moment of pleasure he would feel as her teeth sunk into his flesh. Darryl screamed in pain as blood splattered from his body just as it had in the movie they just watched. The car rocked back in forth for the next few minutes. Had there been any witnesses, they would have presumed that what was occurring within that vehicle was pure ecstasy. Ironically, they would have half presumed correctly, it was incredible ecstasy, for one of them.

Back at the homestead, Whitman and Emily sat on the porch in separate rocking chairs. Emily, her nose in a book, said aloud. “Clarice was right.”

“About what.” Walt asked. 

“This is better than that Bloch novel.” Emily answered, turning a page of American Psycho.

Walt was not reading a book like he did many nights with his wife. Instead, he sat on his porch and watched the stars. “I hope Clarice is having fun on her date.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. If anything happens, well, she’s feisty like her father was.”

Walt, like both of his sons, was often a man of many words, but this time he replied with a simple, “Yeah.”

Looking up at the stars, Walt figured Frost was up there somewhere watching down on her, on all the family. He missed his son, but he knew full well with the life they chose, some disaster was bound to happen sooner or later. Still, it had been almost twenty years now and he and his wife both still missed him so terribly much. He looked down to wipe his eyes when he noticed the two beams of light approaching; and approaching fast. “Who is that?” Emily asked. 

The engine roared louder as the car approached, it appeared to swerve slightly on the road, as if it were driven by someone behind the wheel for the first time. Feeling this looked like trouble, Walt head for his front door. “I’m gonna get my gun.”

“Wait.” Emily said as the mustang became more visible. As it pulled up to the house Walt heard his wife exclaim “It’s Clarice.” Now parked in the driveway they could both see their granddaughter at the wheel. She leaned over and opened the passenger door. Emily squealed in excitement as the dead teenager that was once Darryl plopped onto the macadam. Walter grinned from ear to ear as the engine shut off. Clarice emerged from the car and said one thing. “I brought home dinner!”