Posts Tagged ‘Wizard of Gore’

Part Eight: Film School

October 26th: 1990. Hallow-Con, New York City

“Man they kill you on these prices!” Dan complained as he handed cash over for two hamburgers and sodas. He then brought his tray back to the table in the convention venue cafeteria with Victoria and George, who had splurged on a big personal pan pizza and a large soda. 

“Well it was cool running into you.” Victoria said as she took her hamburger from Dan and started eating.

“Yeah man, so really what happened?” Dan’s curiosity was killing him. “You were the big man on campus, then you just disappeared. Some of us wondered if you were dead!”

“Haha, I was dead!” George relished in hearing exaggerated rumors about himself. “That is so great. No, the truth about what happened to me was worse, my fucking dad wouldn’t help me pay for the rest of the school year.” 

“Oh man that sucks.” Dan said.

“Sure does.” George said, taking a bite of his pizza. 

Dan then asked, “So what are you doing now?”

“Back in Bethlehem, working a sucky job. Sometimes I get some gaming in, and I’m working on a few projects.”.

“That’s cool.” Dan said before remembering. “I think the last time we hung out was in the East Village when we saw Macabre.”

“I think you’re right.” George agreed. “I just got the new Slayer album. It’s pretty wicked!”

“Cool,” Dan said. That venue we saw Macabre at is where Victoria and I met.” He then started eating his burger.

“Neato.” George said before taking a drink.

“Yeah, it was a Fibonaccis show.” Victoria happily remembered.

“I remember them. Sucks they broke up.” George pointed to Dan recalling “I remember you playing their album in the dorm. I liked that track Some Men, and the instrumental piece after it, what was it called, Romp of the Meiji Sicophantas?” 

“Sycophants.” Dan corrected.

“Right, not my usual cup of tea,” George said. “but cool stuff.”

“So you two met at school?” Victoria asked.

“Yeah it was at a Herschell Gordon Lewis seminar.” George said.

“Who’s that?” Victoria asked.

“He was this guy who made a bunch of sleazeball films in the 60s and 70s.” George explained.

“Yeah you probably wouldn’t have liked him.” Dan said to Victoria. “I read in an interview once that he thought about doing horror movies, but never followed through with it.”

“Too bad.” George complained. “His style would have fit the genre. He could have been a real wizard of gore!”

“Probably right.” Dan agreed. “So are you ever gonna come back to school?”

“I don’t know, I got more into writing recently, I’m gonna try to bang out a book or two. I tried to get some film projects going a few times, but you know how that is, poeple are stupid and flake on you and all that.”

“I hear you man.” Dan agreed. “I finished but I stuck around because Victoria here is gonna finish next year. We’re gonna get married once she’s done.”

“Cool beans,” George said before finishing off his pizza.

“Yeah, we also got a few projects going on but nothing big.” Victoria explained. “We both got a shit load of debt now, so who knows maybe you dodged a bullet there.” They all had a laugh at that thought.

“Say some of the old gang is meeting in the village.” Dan said. “You should come too. I’m sure a lot of them will be glad to see you.”

“Well I’m going to a panel then I’m gonna meet this author I’ve been corresponding with.” George said as he looked at his watch. “Actually I gotta go.” 

“That’s awesome. Well hey it was great running into you.” Dan said.

“I was happy to talk to you both.” George said as he stood up. 

“It was nice meeting you.” Victoria said.

“Laters.” George then walked away.

As Victoria watched George exit the eating area, carving out a path among the crowd wherever he went, she observed. “He was… interesting.”

“Yeah that’s one way of putting it.” Dan said, to which they both giggled. While watching his friend from film school walk away he said “He’s got an ego the size of Montana, but he was SUPER talented. If he ever got the ball rolling he could make some kickass films.”

Bethlehem, 1989

“This is bullshit!”

“No this is bullshit!” Henry held up a screenplay and slammed it down on George’s table, its front page emblazoned with the title ‘Deranged’. The murderous letters shined back at him in their red ink. “I’m not paying for you to make crap like this!”

“You just don’t want me to succeed!” George yelled defiantly. “You just want me to be like those asshole jocks in Freedom High School!”

Henry was beside himself in both confusion and anger. “You loved football when you were a kid!” he objected. “Then all of a sudden you stopped lifting and stuffed your face with pizza, I didn’t understand it.”

“I didn’t want to win the Superbowl dad, I wanted to make movies! My loan only gets me so far. Even if I have to work 80 hours a week I still can’t afford to finish my degree!”

“That’s not my problem!” Henry desperately tried to reel his emotions back in. “I know I told you I would help you pay for school, but I’m not gonna pay for you to exploit a family tragedy!”

“It’s not a family tragedy Dad! She was probably just high, you know how fucked up she was.”

“She was my sister, you son of a bitch!” Without thinking Henry lunged toward his son, his hands pushed hard on George’s chest, knocking him down to the couch. There was a loud thud when George’s body hit the cushion, followed by the sound of wood cracking as one of the legs of the couch snapped. Henry pulled back and braced himself. He was getting older now, but his son was grossly out of shape. He held his hands up, more than prepared for anything his son might do.

George remained still on the couch, it was now evident he wasn’t going to do a damn thing. Henry couldn’t remember the last time he saw George with tears in his eyes, and he was plenty upset himself. As Henry lowered his trembling hands he could feel his heart racing. He raised his right hand back up, pointing his finger at his son to say “You do what you wanna do, but you’re on your own.” He then picked up the screen play again and squeezed it with his fist. “But if you ever go through with this shit, then I don’t ever want to see you again.” He threw the document back down and walked out of his son’s apartment. 

Henry was brought back to the present by the voice, it was a female voice talking quietly over the microphone. “I remember cabbing home from an artist party, somewhere near my old shrinks building…upper West end, catching all the green lights.” Looking at the small stage Steve was now gone, and in his place was that lovely red haired woman who continued, “Till we hit this wasted eastside corner down in ‘Alphabet’ land.” Henry looked back at the table to make his shot, but he couldn’t stop listening to her voice. “And there was this crowd hissin to the street bitching of some old punk band.” He called eight-ball in the corner pocket. It was an easy shot, so easy he missed it, he missed it and the cue ball sunk. He’d scratched, she won. “When this kid comes up to my window with a chewed up styrofoam cup in his hand… and he says…”you gotta let life go…” Helen gloated as the woman laughed and said “What a rip!” Henry expressed no disappointment in his defeat. He simply put his pool stick down and looked at the stage while the woman slowly sang the words, “You gotta let life go.” In her light gentle voice she continued. “You gotta live, let live.” She looked a little older, maybe she was around his age,”Don’t even, search your soul.” Ha, not likely he thought. “You gotta let life go.” Her bare arms looked fit, and her face was quite pretty, but he could tell by the deepness of her eyes this woman had lived a life. He picked up his beer and took a sip while still watching, still listening. He’d lost the game, but he was starting to enjoy his evening.