Category Archives: Horror

I’m only about a year behind on my pop culture. That’s good, right?

I have had a billion things to do tonight so now I left this until the last minute because I am an dummy so I won’t be going to bed until really late. I AM NOT THE SMARTEST.

Let’s see. What’s up in Amyville today. Well, I have actually watched TWO SOMEWHAT RECENT MOVIES this week. I know! It’s like I’m an actual functioning member of the human race. Well, they’re not RECENT recent. They’re within the last year or so, I think. More recent than things I usually watch. Or…well, let’s face it, I never watch movies, I don’t have the time. But randomly this week I had time for TWO WHOLE MOVIES ZOMG! I know! And have a third movie for later in the week if I don’t completely run out of time! I know, super-fancy!

FIRST, yesterday I watched Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. Which I knew was going to kill me but I didn’t think was going to kill me as MUCH as it was going to kill me. I like to cry. I really, REALLY like to cry. Don’t even get me wrong. And I do it a LOT. I cry over EVERYTHING. Commercials. Stupid television shows. Thinking about things. Emailing people. Movies. Thing is, I don’t do it in front of people. Unless I’m watching something and someone else happens to be in the room or something. Then I try to be really quiet about it. (My dad does the same thing; his excuse is always “allergies ALLERGIES!” and then he’ll run out of the room and get a tissue and come back all “damn seasonal allergies, SO UNTIMELY” and I’ll pretend I believe him. It’s what daughters who love their dads who are also totally emotional do. I mean, it’s not like I got it from the neighbors. It’s a little bit of genetics and a little bit of a learned response. Also, I’m just a huge sap.) I don’t like to cry in front of people. It makes me feel like a weak lady. I AM NOT A WEAK LADY. Call me weak and see what happens when I get all ragey on you. I just…get emotional. About things. About ALL THE THINGS. That’s not TERRIBLE. It’s just Amy. It’s an Amy-thing. (If it makes you feel better, I also cry about HAPPY things. Sheesh.)

Oh, now this is disturbing. And, also me.

Anyway, this movie killed me. It was all the things. It was all the things that get me, rolled up into a movie. 9/11 and a child who loved his dad and a mystery and a quest and New York City and a man with a secret past and a mother who’d do anything for her child. It was a little sappy, maybe. But I wasn’t paying that much attention, because I WAS SOBBING LIKE A LUNATIC. Like, not just crying a little. Nope. No pretty lady-crying happened to me in this movie. Like, major ugly-cry. There were noises and everything. At one point, the cat decided he’d had enough and left. “Momm, you arr being crazey,” Dumbcat said disapprovingly.

(Please cast Tom Hanks as a 9/11 victim, movie, if you want to absolutely GUARANTEE I’m going to be crushed, by the way. Yikes. Also, the kid in this movie was fantastic. I hope he has a nice long career. He was great. Apparently the internet thought this movie was sappy and exploitative. Maybe. I liked it a lot, so I don’t really care what you think, internet.)

So when that was done I’d had a very good cry. A very good cry is EXTREMELY CATHARTIC and makes you feel all clean. I recommend everyone have a good cry every once and a while. It’s like an oil change or something. It’s a human oil-change. Then I slept very very well and woke up totally ready to face the new day, it was great.

Now I am watching (finally, I’ve been wanting to for a while) The Cabin in the Woods. I had no idea this was a whole THING. I thought it was just a stupid horror movie (but probably more awesome, because, well, Joss Whedon, let’s be clear, Joss Whedon makes everything amazing.) But you guys! It is not only a horror movie, it’s actually got a PLOT. And it’s smart and it’s funny and it’s got a lot of Whedonites in it and it’s also got a lot of gore (listen, I’m a sucker for the gore, I admit it) and it’s kept me guessing. And I watch a lot of horror movies, so it’s not easy to surprise me. I should have known Joss Whedon wouldn’t just do a normal horror movie. He’d do it like, well, Joss Whedon. Has Joss Whedon ever let me down? I think not.

Also, I have a weirdo crush on Fran Kranz. It’s his nose, I think. Don’t get me started, I have this weird Roman-nose thing. And this nerdy-boy thing. WE LIKE WHAT WE LIKE, PEOPLE. There’s no accounting for taste.

Tomorrow if I have time I am watching A WHOLE MOVIE ABOUT VIBRATORS. Yup. Which was, in news of ick, highly recommended by my dad. (More so because he likes Maggie Gyllenhaal than anything, I think. I’m going to pretend it’s not for the sex-parts. DAD DOESN’T KNOW ABOUT SEX BECAUSE HE IS DAD AND THEREFORE NO SEX UCK NO NO.) It is called Hysteria. I think it looks kind of awesome. (I like historical things, like how women were treated for lady-problems back in the day by men wielding vibrators, because OF COURSE that fixes everything. Well, kind of probably it made them feel better, but I don’t want some weird clinical doctor diddling around in my lady-business, thanks, ew, yuck.) So that’s tomorrow, if I don’t fall asleep when I get home. It’s a long week.

Oh, also Hugh Dancy? Well, that’s nice. I like that. OK, then.

And THEN, TODAY (it is Thursday, right?) I have a THING happening which is exciting, then the readthrough for The Laramie Project, then MORE WORK ARGH WHAT A WEEK, then Arlo Guthrie yay! Then who knows what the week ahead will hold, really. Life’s just utterly an adventure. SO MUCH HAPPENING. Well, if you consider “an adventure” being “working a whole damn lot, then sleeping so you can do it again.” However, this week’s got less work in it than last week, so every day’s a blessing, I suppose.

OK, this is brief, but I have to get to sleep. Well, I have like three more things to do. THEN I can get to sleep. I always have three more things to do. That’s why I never get enough sleep, to be honest. Those three things to do. DAMN YOU THOSE THREE THINGS TO DO.

Happy Thursday, people. Send those good thoughts, ok? I need ’em this afternoon. OVERWHELM me with them. Send me on my way with so many good thoughts that I can’t even have a single minute of awkwardness or self-doubt. That’d be the best. Thanks so much.

“Robert did it.” …and then I didn’t sleep again for a week.

I find dolls terrifying.

I don’t think they’re cute or funny or a good toy for children at all. Stuffed animals are fine. I like stuffed animals. I might own a few more than a grown woman should. They are puffy and harmless and soft and most likely won’t kill you when you sleep. Notice the “most likely” there. I don’t rule anything out in the world.

But dolls are terrible. Dolls have dead, dead eyes and are not at all soft or puffy. They have hard faces and they could come to life when you are sleeping and strangle you with their scary hands and they could talk with their scary plastic mouths. Whenever I mention dolls, my beloved Elaine sends me this link. THIS DOES NOT MAKE MY DOLL PHOBIA ANY BETTER, ELAINE.

Then you think about all the horrible dolls on television and in the movies that want to eat your face like:

Chucky, who was a lot scarier before the movies got weird and campy, and…

Talky Tina, who was going to kill you (ugh, this doll terrifies me) and…

The effing clown-doll in Poltergeist. WHY DID THESE CHILDREN EVEN HAVE THIS TOY? What kind of parents would give their children a toy like this? AND THEN KEEP IT IN THEIR BEDROOM WHERE IT CAN EAT THEIR FACES AND SOULS AS THEY SLEEP?

Anyway, a couple days ago I found out a very terrifying doll-story. WORSE than the dolls above, you guys. SO MUCH WORSE. And I didn’t know it even EXISTED until recently and I kind of wish I didn’t know it, to be honest, because it is utterly horrifying, and possibly worse than that clip above of Jane Fonda getting eaten by dolls with chompy teeth.


This is Robert “Gene” Otto. He was born in 1900 in Key West to a rich and artsy family. Their house was like an artists’ colony so I assume everyone was all high-strung and there was a lot of sex and people were talking about things like “this room has the best light” and “I NEED MORE CERULEAN! STOP STEALING MY CERULEAN!” all the time. I guess that’d be ok in small doses.

When Robert was 4, his nanny made him a doll. Some people say it was because she liked him; some people say it’s because she was putting a curse on the kid because his mother had fired her for performing black magic. She apparently wanted it to be VERY LIFELIKE: she put ROBERT’S OWN HAIR on the doll. Well, that’s not at all creepy and terrifying and voodoo-like. Are you ready to see the doll? Sure you are. (No, you’re not, actually.)

BRUH. This is AWFUL. Look at those DEAD EYES. Who wants to guess what this doll’s name is?

Robert. This doll’s name is also Robert.

But that didn’t sit well with young HUMAN Robert, so he said, “Yo, henceforth you need to be callin’ me Gene, yo, because my DOLL’S name is Robert, and that confuses us, because WE ARE ONE.”

He-Who-Will-From-Now-On-Be-Called-Gene was obsessed with his doll. He brought it with him everywhere. He dressed in a sailor suit all the time so he and his doll were wearing the same clothes. He insisted that a chair be put at the table for Robert the Doll at every meal. And – AND – check these terrifying tidbits of information out from the interwebs:

“In time, both parents and servents observed, when Gene and Robert were alone, TWO distinct voices could be heard coming from their playroom. When the silverware was found in disarray and Gene was blamed, he was quick to volunteer that ‘Robert did it.'”

“By all accounts the attachment to this toy was a strange one. It has been rumoured that the doll was imbued with powers through the use of voodoo by four servants, including the creator of the doll.”

Oh, well, this isn’t going to end well. THE DOLL TALKS. And it is a VOODOO DOLL. And it MESSES UP THE SILVERWARE.

After the family got freaked out by his behavior, they put the doll in an attic room.

“After numerous occurrences like these, Robert was banished to the turret room in the Victorian-style mansion. Children passing by on their way to school would notice Robert in one window in the morning and having moved to another window in the afternoon— yet he hadn’t been moved by any human who’d claim it.”

Oh, well, that’s not at all nightmare-inducing for those poor children. “What’s wrong, pookie, can’t sleep?” “I FEEL HIS EYES WATCHING ME MOMMY HIS EVIL DEAD BLACK EYESSSSSS!”

So then Gene got married. He became an artist like his parents, and supposedly was pretty good at it, which is nice. However, he wasn’t the best husband. He and his wife fought a lot. And apparently, it wasn’t his fault: it was Robert’s.

“Theirs was an average marriage, oddly punctuated by suddenly volatile behavior from Gene. As always, after each outburst was over, Gene would say, ‘Robert did it.'”

…Robert did what. Robert fought with your wife? No. YOU fought with your wife, and I think you’ve lost your everloving mind.

Unsurprisingly, Mrs. Gene hated that doll. Haaaaaated. Can’t say as I blame her. That’s creepy as hell, yo. So when old Gene kicked the bucket in 1972, Ann locked that doll in a trunk in the attic AND THEN LEFT THE HOUSE. Not even kidding. She took the hell off. She made a new plan, Stan. She hopped on the bus, Gus. She didn’t even look back. See ya, you creepy dead-eyed thing.

“She left Robert in his turret room and rented out the house. A strict provision in the rental agreement stated that Robert must stay in his room and it was strictly adhered to until Anne passed away in 1976, even though the residents actually put Robert in a trunk, then left the trunk in the turret room.”

I don’t know about you, but I’m not renting ANY home where there’s a proviso “you must keep the demonically-possessed doll in ‘his room’ at all times – what do you mean, ‘what demonically-possessed doll,” EVERY HOUSE HAS ONE, I assure you of that!” in the rental agreement.

Eventually, Ann died and the house was sold. That damn trunk of evil was still in it. The child of the owners found Robert the Doll and was all, “YAY NEW DOLL” (nothing I’ve read says she was blind, but I can’t imagine she had SIGHT and was STILL all “yay new doll” because THIS THING IS TERRIFYING WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU) and brought it down to hang with her other dolls.

“Robert waited patiently up in the attic to be discovered once again. The Ten year old daughter of the new owners was quick to find Robert in the attic, and added him to her other toy’s in her bedroom. It was not long before Robert unleashed his displeasure on the child… The little girl began screaming out in the night,claiming that the doll moved about the room, and would climb on her bed and attack her as she tried to sleep. Even after more than thirty years later, she steadfastly claims that ‘the doll was alive and wanted to kill her.'”

(Please ignore those typos and grammatical issues. I assure you they are not mine.)

Then all the websites don’t say what happened between the 70s and the 90s, which worries me. I can only assume that means Robert the Doll killed a billion children and ate their souls.

Now Robert the Doll is in the Fort East Martello Museum. According to one of the websites, you’d damn well better not mock him if you see him OR YOU WILL BE CURSED as will your progeny.

“If you choose to visit Robert in the museum and want to take a picture you need to ask politely and do NOT make fun of the doll! If he allows you to take a picture he will tilt his head to the side, if he does not tilt his head and you take a picture anyway bad things happen to not only you but to anyone you were with or family members. The walls in that room of the museum are covered in letters from people asking Robert to please take the curse off, and apologizing for making fun of him.”

TILT HIS HEAD? What the hell is happening here? I’m not visiting anything that is inanimate, yet moves, and has the potential to possibly curse me or family members. TERRIFYING AND TERRIBLE. You couldn’t pay me enough money to visit this museum. NO NO NO.

So if you have kids that are SUPER-ATTACHED to something creepy, it’s probably best you just burn it; burn it with fire. Then bury it. And salt the earth. Because if there’s anything I’ve learned from all the horror stories I’ve read, it’s that these damn things come BACK. And they’re PISSED at you. AND THEY WILL EAT YOUR FACE AND ALSO YOUR SOUL.

Let’s talk about something nice tomorrow, ok? Kittens and rainbows and such? Because seriously. UGH.

We’re singing Hallelujah and the edge in your affection broke my skin

Here we are. It’s – what day is this? Um…Friday? OK. It’s Friday. Hi! Happy Friday! Does that mean this week is almost over? Oh, that’s nice. I like that a lot. I’m looking forward to the end of this week, I really am. It’s been filled with turmoil. ALL THE TURMOIL! Dumbcat says to tell you that for him, it has NOT been filled with turmoil, and that he’s been taking many nice naps as always, and that he can’t be blamed for waking his beloved mom up at 4am the other morning with many cheerful headbutts but he was just SO EXCITED TO BE ALIVE that he wanted to share some of that joie de vivre with her, is all. He can NOT imagine why she was all “STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT GO AWAY DUMBCAT I AM ASLEEPIN’!!!” It is an utter mystery to this Dumbcat.

The Nephew is going to be Buzz Lightyear for Halloween. I saw a video of him in his little costume and it made my whole Grinch heart break the measuring machine. I would show you but I can’t find a way to take it off of Facebook and make it go somewhere else. Plus I don’t think I should put The Nephew on the old bloggity blog because of the killers. Anyway, he is the BEST Buzz Lightyear, and he said MANY cheerful “TO INFINITY AND BEYOND!”s and jumped up in the air, and at one point, he said, “when can I fly?” to his mom, and that made my whole heart ache. That’s how you KNOW he’s the real Buzz Lightyear. Buzz Lightyear wanted to fly, too. Mom said he told her that he was going to really fly, and when she said, “You will get hurt if you try!” he said, “No. Buzz Lightyear NEVER gets hurt!” so I think maybe he didn’t internalize the lessons of Toy Story where Buzz Lightyear came to the hard cold truth he was really a toy and this makes me nervous The Nephew is going to jump off something high on Halloween to see if he can fly. GULP. Dear Nephew: I love you more than anything in the whole world. Anything ever. I would turn myself inside out to make it so you can really fly. Don’t even think I wouldn’t. (Listen, you think I’m rabidly loyal to my friends? You haven’t seen me with The Nephew. There is possibly no one in the world more beloved than that child. I see him and I just GLOW.)

Think this is cute? Imagine a 3-year-old blondie doing it with a HUGE grin on his face. It’s the utter best.

I am currently watching American Horror Story and it’s already freaking me out a little. This bodes well. I do so love being freaked out. This is because I’m a little mentally deranged. Shh, don’t tell anyone. Oh, what’s that? You all already knew that? FINE. I can’t keep secrets from you, can I? Aw, my sweet little potpies. Also, it’s the best month for scary. Nice job, American Horror Story! (Also, THANK YOU for keeping my Evan Peters around. I could watch this kid act all day long. LOVE.) And now I am having a LOT of trouble concentrating on blogging. THIS IS A VERY GOOD SEASON ALREADY. Oh, thank you thank you American Horror Story. I so needed a good program this season and nothing else has lived up to expectations. (Also, Joseph Fiennes is a priest. JOSEPH FIENNES. I will always and forever be in love with Joseph Fiennes. Have I mentioned? This is a very good show.)

I love Evan Peters. Even though it’s a little creepy and he’s probably young enough to be my kid. Sorry, Evan Peters. I don’t want to sex you up, or anything. I just think you’re amazing.

Argh, I totally have TWO VERY GOOD IDEAS for blog posts and I can’t write them because I don’t have the time. Grump grump. I think I have Monday off so maybe I can work on at least one of them then. Oh, well, listen, I’m not saying they’re going to be GOOD. I’m just excited I have IDEAS. (One of them will be good. One of them will, anyway. I have a whole brain-plan. Well, the part of my brain that’s not all scrambly from the insanity of this week, anyway.)

Oh good grief I cannot pay attention to you, blog, I can’t look away from the television. THIS IS SO GOOD. Seriously, internets, you need to be watching this show.

Here is Joseph Fiennes as a sexy priest. He’d also be a sexy serial killer or a sexy Muppet, though, let’s be honest.

OK, you’re tired of hearing about the teevee and so is Dumbcat because he just kind of pounced on the laptop to get my attention so I had to erase what he said but it was kind of like this: woihefoosdihf. I think that means, pet me more now Mom stop being distracted-like! in Dumbcat-ese.

Oh! Here is a story called, why it is good to have an sj in your life. So at work today, they said, “Amy! Can you work the late shift on Sunday please please? We need you.” And they pay extra on weekends. And what do we like in the Lucy’s Football household, especially these days? Money to pay the bills. Also, there’s a play coming up I want to see. And it’s like $20. But I don’t spend money on things that aren’t bills or food. BUT I NEED TO SEE THIS PLAY. Because a., it’s got one of my favorite people in the world in it, and b., it’s my favorite musical of all time. (Who knows what musical that is? Extra credit if you remember the answer to this one. N., if you’re reading, YOU CAN NOT PLAY! You already KNOW the answer! Because we BOTH love this musical to distraction!) So extra money and extra hours = being able to see this play and not having to go without…oh, I don’t know…groceries.

Here’s a hint. NO, I’m not going to TELL you. This is a TEST. To see who’s paying ATTENTION. Extra credit if you know whose back is to the audience here. The character, not the actor. I don’t know who this actor is, either. Some dude on the interweb.

Anyway, so they asked, and I thought about it for like four seconds and was like, “UGH, I need a day off after the week I’ve had” but then I thought, “hell, I’ll have Monday off, probably, I’ll be ok” and said ok.

Then I got home, and I emailed sj (which is what I do, because she is my sj) and we were chatting and I mentioned Sunday and she was all, “Don’t you have theater that night?” and SHIT SHIT! I had TOTALLY FORGOTTEN about having theater that night! This week has sucked my brain out of my ears and replaced it with cotton candy, I swear. Ooh, that makes me think of the Ben Lee song “Apple Candy” and I haven’t obsessed over that in a while and I want to do that again over and over so I SHALL, thank you.

(I don’t know what’s up with this weird fan-video, either. Just shut your eyes and listen to how gorgeous this is. I saw him in concert once and he’s about as big as someone you could pop in your pocket, no joke. SO CUTE! I feel like we’ve talked about this before. Did we talk about this before, or did I just talk about this with sj? Stupid brain.)

So I had to email all the theater people and send my apologies (although I very much want to do the theater thing that night, I have to do the money-thing more than I can do the theater-thing. The theater-thing isn’t like a MANDATORY theater-thing. It would have been a FUN theater-thing. And I am sad to miss it. But, money, you know? DAMN YOU MONEY.) When you have a friend who knows your schedule better than you do, you have found a keeper. Hey, sj? You’re amazing, you know? Shush, me, I’m going to get weepy.

Oh! Blog tour news! Three things for you today! Two artsy posts that are SO AMAZING YOU GUYS SERIOUSLY, if you don’t check these out you are missing out – one from sj and Meg, with the prettiest animated gif…argh, I can’t even. YOU HAVE TO GO SEE. And one from my Science Fellow! It has my HEART in it, you guys, my HEART! My magpie heart! Oh, wait til you see. It’s wonderful. I love them both so much. I seriously had all the tears yesterday. Then! One from Heather at Between the Covers introducing my book (and she’ll have a guest post from me soon, too!) And she picked a poem to talk about and I re-read it and I thought, huh, I wrote that, that’s pretty good, yeah? Well, good job, me. Good job. Then I got glowy.

OK. I have got to get to bed, jellybeans and gumdrops. Another long day tomorrow. Today I learned a new SKILL at work because I am THE AWESOMENESS. It is all very exciting to be the awesomeness, but sometimes the awesomeness has to get some sleep. To recharge the awesomeness. It takes a lot of energy, to be awesome, you see. Plus when your cat wakes you up at 4am with headbutts you gotta be prepared, yo. Goodnight. Or, good DAY, I guess. Since you’re reading this in the morning-hours. TIME FOR BED EITHER WAY.

The Haunted Planet…IS EARTH. EARTH, you guys!

The other day, sj blogged about her freezer book. You all know about the freezer book, right? Here, if not, here’s the genesis of this fantastic phrase:

That’s not the best clip. The second book Joey’s reading is Little Women. Rachel talked him into reading it, and he didn’t think he’d like it, but then he did. But it upset him, so into the freezer it went!

You’re totally safe from a book in the freezer. The bad stuff can’t get out because the freezer is SEALED. And COLD.

So when sj mentioned that, I remembered MY freezer book, which I’d found the last time I went home and planned on blogging about but then totally forgot about for months and months because other things happened right after the last time I went home, like unemployment and crises and various random sadnesses and lots and lots of busyness. So I poked around my bookcase for where I’d put the freezer book.


Only, I’m pretty sure it’s not going to be a freezer book anymore. It already looks ridiculous.

My freezer book was purchased in…let’s see, let’s check the publication date. Well, it says 1980, but there’s no way I bought this thing in 1980, because I was in kindergarten then. I’m thinking I had this in third grade, because I remember bringing it with me the first time I went to Florida as part of my reading material for the plane, then being SO SO SCARED I hid it in the bottom of my suitcase and refused to look at it again but was sure it was sending out evil rays the whole time.


THE HAUNTED PLANET! Look, you can still buy copies of this from Amazon even though it’s thirty-some years old now. See how foldy the cover is? That’s because it was in the FREEZER for the past 30 years. The freezer in my case was under the bookcase, and then surrounded by other crap so it couldn’t get out. I’m not even kidding. That’s where I found this, shoved back behind my childhood bookcase, surrounded by random crap to keep it in its place.

How cheesy is that cover? The most, is how much. However, it still gives me the willies.

I think I got this from that Scholastic Book Order thingy? Remember that thing, where you’d get that newsprint order form and you could order books, and then you’d get them a few weeks later? Usually I bough puppy posters or puppy bookmarks but I think I bought this book from there. I can’t imagine where else I would have gotten it.

D.J. Arneson seems to have written a lot of these short little books back in the 80s and 90s. Tony Tallarico did the comics inside and apparently he’s kind of a big deal. I don’t know why he was associated with this book. WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME, TONY?

Here, let’s look at the back.

ZOMG YOU GUYS. The Haunted Planet is EARTH! Well, THIS doesn’t bode well.

So, in our freezer book, we have seven stories. It is less than 100 pages long and the type’s kind of big. It’s not like it’s a difficult book to read. Well, reading-wise, it’s not. CONTENT-wise, it is TERRIFYING.

Well, it was when I was a little Amy. Let’s see what grown-up Amy thinks.

Our stories are:

  • The Haunted Gull
  • The Empty Motel
  • Ghost Flight
  • The Bridge
  • The Robot’s Revenge
  • Don’t Go Into the Baby’s Room
  • The House on Pearl Street

And just for YOU, my minions, I’m going to RE-READ these things, and see if they’re still creepy.


This story is about a boy who decides it’s a good idea to kill a seagull with a bow and arrow while he’s on a seaside vacation with his parents. When he kills one, he goes to examine his kill and the body is GONE. That night, he hears pecking noises outside his cabin and something breaks his window. When he gets up to get his parents, he finds a living room full of birds all covered in his parents’ blood and then “the gulls closed their circle around the terrified boy” so I assume they pecked and clawed him to death, too but since this is supposedly a book for children they don’t say that.

There are cartoon illustrations for all the stories. Some are creepier than others. This is the boy afraid of the murder-gull-ghost.

Well, this is really not appropriate for children, but it’s not that bad. It teaches you a LESSON. Don’t be shooting seagulls with bows and arrows. You don’t need to kill animals for no reason, that’s sociopath behavior, son.

HOWEVER! I think we have found the root of my bird-phobia! I am PETRIFIED of their feet and beaks because I think they’ll peck me to death and I never had any reason why! I THINK I KNOW WHY NOW!

Freezer-book rating on a scale of 1 freezers to 10 freezers: 3 freezers


This one has a little italicized part under the title: The question was, why was the motel empty? UGH I DON”T KNOW IF I WANT TO KNOWWWW

Empty MOTEL! In the RAIN!

This story is about a family that shows up to a motel in the middle of a rainy night. The father runs in to get them a room while the mother, the two daughters, and the dog stay in the car. But the dad doesn’t come back! And why are there no other cars in the parking lot SO WEIRD. So when the daughter rolls down the window and the stupid dog runs out into the rain they decide to go find their daddy and/or husband and go into the hotel. One of the daughters is all “I DREAMED THIS PLACE” and THAT’S not at all terrifying. So when they get inside it’s all EMPTY inside, it’s only a SHELL that looks good on the OUTSIDE, it’s like a TRAP, and the father’s nowhere to be FOUND, and there’s a creepy shadow-man that one of the daughters is talking to all, “Hi! I dreamed you! Where’s my dog where’s my father YOU ARE A LIAR DREAM SHADOW MAN! YOU SAID I COULD HAVE THEM BAAAAACK!” (this child is not right) and then the mom goes nuts and runs off into the shadows looking for her husband and then the daughters go looking for their parents and the dog and go into a room and two red glowing lights that are probably eyes blink on and the door blows shut. And the last line is “The answer was, the motel wasn’t empty.”

Oh, now THIS is terrifying for a kid to read with the shadow-men and dreaming something that came true and the family disappearing. I read this when I was NINE. Nine! That is too young to be reading about killer ghost shadow men with red glowy eyes and hotels that WEREN’T EMPTY.

Freezer-book rating: 6 freezers


This one’s about a plane. I’m bored just thinking about it.

This story is about a bunch of pilots. The pilots’ names are – I’m not even kidding – Buzz Arnold, Lem Calhoun, and Biff Bolt. BIFF! BOLT! It’s like they got these names from a baby name book for SUPERHEROES! Except for poor ol’ Lem. He sounds like a sad sack.

Buzz, Biff and Sad Sack Lem are pilots for a commercial airline and they have to fly through the BERMUDA TRIANGLE! Buzz and Lem are all “HA HA THAT’S A FALLACY” but Biff’s young and he’s all nervous-faced because I assume his heart hasn’t died yet. They’re in the air and their radios go out and they’re having trouble with the controls and a young boy on the flight is listening to a transistor radio (those things work in the air? huh, ok) and he hears talking and sees WWII jet fighters planes trying to warn the plane out of their flight path but NO ONE BELIEVES HIM and then the plane kind of drifts into the BERMUDA TRIANGLE and everyone on the plane is dead and frozen except the little boy who realizes he will be there FOREVER trapped in a plane of DEAD PEOPLE. It’s all a little confusing.

This story made me laugh because I found THIS written on the last page:

This is wee Amy’s handwriting. It says “Yeah good man.” You are seeing wee Amy’s first official book review. I am so hoping wee Amy was being sarcastic, because – hey, wee Amy? THIS WAS NOT “GOOD.” “MAN.” (Man? Really? Was I a hep cat, dude? What’s going on with this?)

Freezer-book rating: 2 freezers


This is a story about a boy who moves to a new town. There is a bridge with a sign that says not to cross it after dark. He’s all “WHAT THE EFF THAT’S DUMB” and he goes to the park and he plays around until he slips and falls and knocks himself out and wakes up and it’s nighttime. To get home, he has to cross the bridge. He’s all woozy and freaked out and when he steps on the bridge it starts to shake and quake and then a WRAITH appears and SHRIEKS at him and makes his hair turn white and stand all up around his head like he’s a dandelion and then WRAPS HIM IN HIS WRAITH-ARMS and then the wraith and the boy are gone. Then the neighborhood boys show up the next day and are all, “oh, well, he should have known enough to read the sign, this always happens to new kids in town, SIGH SHRUG” and then we get some sort of weird shoehorned in backstory about how when the bridge was built a man was accidentally cemented into the base of the bridge and if you listen, you can hear the voices of the people he’s trapped in there with him over the years. INCLUDING THE BOY HE JUST KILLED DUN DUN DUNNNNN.

I think this was scarier when I was a kid because I used to be scared of the dark. But now I like the dark, so I’m less scared. Also, that kid got what he deserved. Why the hell didn’t he pay attention to the sign? YOUR OWN FAULT KIDDO. The most disturbing thing in this was the laissez-faire attitude of the kids at the end, honestly. “Oh, well, another dead kid, HO-HUM.” It’s like they live in Derry.

Freezer-book rating: 4 freezers


This is a story about robots getting revenge. Oh, you want more? FINE.

An unscrupulous scientist-type does this display for a bunch of people of a little robot called Micro-Mite. Micro-Mite is AMAZING! (Except it’s the 8os so it’s not so amazing reading it in 2012. He just does basic robot stuff like wheel around and talk in a robot-voice.) The audience is FLABBERGASTED! The man’s all, “how does he do it?” and the audience is all “WE DON’T KNOW!” but you find out later HOW HE DOES IT is that he has a tiny dwarf strapped inside, running the controls of Micro-Mite, and he is VERY MEAN to the dwarf, and never unstraps him or feeds him. So he accidentally covers up the airholes and the dwarf smothers. He throws Micro-Mite into the lake and drives off all “oh, well.” A while later, his trailer breaks down and he goes to a junk dealer to sell it. He sees Micro-Mite in the corner of the dealer’s office! “Where did you FIND that?” he asks, and the junk dealer is all “oh, on the side of the road, ha ha!” and the man’s all “oh shit shit, something is AFOOT!” and when the junk dealer leaves to get something Micro-Mite comes to life and attacks the man and drives him outside to his trailer and then wedges his trailer into a hidden tight place where there’s no air or food so the man will smother THE END. Oh, also Micro-Mite (who is now being controlled by a GHOST because the junkman says, “there’s nothin’ in you but some STRAPS hyuk-hyuk!”) kills the evil man’s cat (because the cat always got fed and loved and the dwarf didn’t) and also becomes the junkman’s new BFF and brings him lemonade. NOW it’s THE END.

This isn’t scary, this is stupid. It’s like a Twilight Zone episode written by a child with ADD.

Freezer-book rating: 2 freezers

Don’t Go Into the Baby’s Room

Whoa. Those are some short shorts. I can see her lady-business.

This story is about a very stupid babysitter who just randomly shows up at a stranger’s house to babysit without apparently knowing anything about the person she’s supposed to babysit for which I think might be the stupidest idea ever but whatever. Look at those shorts, I don’t think she was thinking clearly when she got dressed that morning.

The old old woman is super-creepy and only uses CANDLES and makes her drink some weird TEA and Bonny the Babysitter is all creeped out and then the old woman grabs her with her claw-hand and forces her upstairs and says “time to meet Cecil the baby!” and then hugs her so hard she can’t breathe and then swaps places with Bonny the Babysitter so it’s like Freaky Friday only without the hijinks. Then Bonny the Babysitter is all old and the old lady is all young but apparently also a ghost? Because she drifts through the door and disappears. And then Bonny’s all, eh, hi, Cecil, I’m your new babysitter, but we never see the baby, so I don’t know if there even WAS a baby, or if it was the devil or a euphemism or what, and that part was very confusing.

Again, I remember being SO SCARED of this when I was little, but now mostly I’m like Bonny, what the hell, going to some stranger’s house wearing hotpants, that seems foolish, you’re dressed like bait in a horror movie, how can you be surprised if you get bodysnatched by some weird old lady?

Also, the title makes no sense. Don’t Go Into the Baby’s Room? Who’s giving that warning, anyway? The author of the story? Bonny?

Freezer-book rating: 4 freezers


This is the story that made this book a freezer-book. This story EFFED ME UP YO.

I’m kind of scared to re-read it. I STILL remember how terrifying this was. But the rest of these stories were pretty stupid and not scary so maybe I’m misremembering.

I used to have nightmares about this drawing.

Here we go. Deep breaths. DEEP BREATHS.

A boy named Evan is taking a shortcut in the woods  (yet…the house…is on Pearl Street? I am confused, is the woods on Pearl Street? WHAT’S WITH THE TITLE?!?!) and decides that the best course of action is to…walk through a very creepy house? I don’t know if that was well-advised. Once in the house, the door closes after him and locks. He looks out the window and it is winter out. Only it was SUMMER when he came in! Then a super-tall ghoul-thing (see above) shows up and shambles after him. These children pull him into a hidden panel in the wall and tell him they are ghosts who live there because the ghoul-thing killed them, too, and he’ll be joining them soon, because there’s no escape. They kick him out of the safe room (I assume because they want to PLAY with him, Danny, and in order for them to do that, he has to be eaten by the ghoul-thing) and he runs around (outside of another window, it’s fall, this is the house of all the seasons, although it’s not really explained why that’s the case) and finally escapes from the ghoul-thing into the backyard and is all “SUCK IT GHOSTS! I GOT AWAY!” only he left the door open, and ghoul-thing comes out and grabs him and drags him back into the house so he’s going to be one of the ghost-gang after all. And the last line’s all “Everything’s just as it was before…only one thing was different. The door was open. Now the creature could get out.

OK. I don’t…dammit, freezer-book. This isn’t even that scary. I guess this might be terrifying for a third-grader, but for a super-jaded almost-forty-year-old, this is TAME. This thing had me petrified for YEARS. Is it the scariest story in this lame book? Yeah, probably. This one and the haunted-motel one were pretty scary for children. But not for GROWNUPS.

Freezer-book rating: 7 freezers

Dear HAUNTED PLANET. I have outgrown you and you are no longer my freezer book! I WIN! And I’m kind of embarrassed, honestly. If it helps at all, I was a terribly sheltered child. Everything scared me. EVERYTHING. Now, very few things do. I worry more about the well-being of my loved ones than I worry about stupid things like ghoul-monsters. Drowning. Fire. Losing the people I love. I have various stupid phobias but they don’t really count as things I’m SCARED of.

Dumbcat would like to show you what HE thinks of Haunted Planet:

It is gud to slepe on, Momme.

I avoided people like they were zombies *before* they were all zombies.

I realize you are probably totally all disappointed in me because I haven’t been discussing the end of the world and you have come to count on me for your apocalypse updates. Sometimes I have personal shit occurring that prevents me from discussing the apocalypse in a timely fashion. Listen, you need to be a little proactive. It’s not like I’m going to be there to protect you when the zombies come. Well, not all of you. Dumbcat and I do plan on hiking our asses on over to wherever The Nephew is. The zombies won’t be getting The Nephew, nosiree Bob. 

The zombie apocalypse is nigh and don’t even think I didn’t warn you like eleventy-billion times this was coming. It’s your own damn fault you decided to be all blithe and ignore me and go trip the light fandango or whatever it is you do in your personal life and not prepare for this shit appropriately. 

In Miami, some guy ate another guy’s FACE. He ATE HIS FACE RIGHT OFF. 


How often do I mention eating your face on here? I’m going to do a search. Because I’m pretty sure it means I’m psychic. Oh, the answer is 15. Fifteen times in a year I have mentioned either eating your face off, biting your face off, or chewing your face off. I AM A PSYCHIC WONDER. I knew this was going down. I just wasn’t sure WHEN. You can’t put a timeline on face-eating. Don’t try to puzzle out my powers. They’re inscrutable. 

So, in Miami on Sunday, the cops found a naked man (zombies don’t need clothes, why would they need clothes? They have no shame. That part of their brain is dead as disco. DID YOU HEAR THAT JIM? DEAD AS *DISCO*) chewing on a homeless man’s face on an off-ramp. They were all, “Sir? Sir, could you please stop the face-chewery? That’s totally the grossest, no joke. Back away from the man-buffet, Naked McGee.” The naked man IGNORED THEM. Also? CNN says that “When the officer approached him, told him to stop, pointed a gun at him, he turned around and growled like a wild animal and kept eating at the man’s face.” The cop was all, “AW HELL NO” and then shot him. Well, the cop obviously didn’t watch (or read, the comics are better) a lot of Walking Dead, because the bullet didn’t stop him. He just kept on a’nommin’. Nom nom nom.  Well! You KNOW that cop shot him somewhere non-lethal, right? Like, in the leg or something. Like cops are trained to do. Guess how many more times the cop shot him? Five. FIVE MORE TIMES. It took SIX SHOTS for that man to stop eating the homeless man’s face. SIX. (One good head shot and that homeless man wouldn’t need to wear a Phantom of the Opera mask, copper-copper-crime-stopper. Just letting you know. Do your research. It’s your civic duty to know these things. We COUNT on you. Sheesh. Rick Grimes is a cop, he knows these things.) 

I like comic-book Rick better. TV-Rick, although pretty, isn’t badass enough for me.

The naked man (let’s just start calling him the zombie, ok?) was killed. Or he was already dead and he was put down, I suppose. The victim, Ronald Poppo, was transported to the hospital with critical injuries. According to this article, “most of his face, save for his goatee, is missing.”  Well, this is a new one. Zombies don’t eat beards! Good to know. You should all grow beards. This is good news for those of us who find bearded men attractive. (Now, listen, I’m not saying the victim is going to die and then rise again with a hunger for human flesh and brain matter, but I sure as hell wouldn’t be his nurse. Or at least wouldn’t be his nurse without a fireaxe strapped to my hip or something.) 

Jake, most of your pretty face is safe, safe, safe.

The zombie, before he was a zombie, was a man named Rudy Eugene. (TWO FIRST NAMES! That’s already suspicious. I mean, look at James Earl Ray! He had THREE first names, and NOTHING good came of that. NOTHING.) People say that “Eugene could often be seen wandering the area looking confused.” That is because HE WAS ADJUSTING TO BEING A VERY DEAD ZOMBIE.  

Now, the cops, in a massive coverup attempt, are all, “NO NO NO, it’s not ZOMBIEISM, it’s a new drug, it’s so new…um…you’ve never heard of it…we call it…um…bath salts.” They SAY “bath salts” are like meth and also amphetamine and maybe also bear testosterone. I made up part of that. NO I’m not telling you which part. This “drug” that I am not sure exists causes you to “use your jaws as a weapons.” So does zombieism, you cover-uppers. I don’t buy this for a minute. 

His girlfriend agrees with me about the unlikeliness of this bath salt scenario, by the way.

The man being depicted by the media as a “face eater” or a “monster” is not the man she knew, she said. He smoked marijuana often, though had recently said he wanted to quit, but he didn’t use stronger recreational drugs and even refused to take over-the-counter medication for simple ailments like headaches, she said. He was sweet and well-mannered, she said.

Eugene’s girlfriend has her own theory on what happened that day. She believes Eugene was drugged unknowingly. The only other explanation, she said, was supernatural — that someone put a Vodou curse on him. The girlfriend, who unlike Eugene is not Haitian, said she has never believed in Vodou, until now.

You do realize that voodoo creates ZOMBIES, right? Right.

Google Images says this is “bath salts” but I say LIKELY STORY GOOGLE IMAGES. LIKELY STORY.

So, there’s that. There’s a zombie in Miami, who, before he died, made WHO KNOWS how many more zombies. Likely amongst the homeless community, which is, if you think about it, a very good place to start, because they already sometimes have dead eyes and shamble about, so they could fly under the radar until they’ve got their numbers up, and then kill us, kill us all. Now, if that was it, I’d be all, ok, maybe we can contain this. MAYBE. But I’d still stock up on canned goods and shelf-stable milk. 

(Side note: I shared this story with K. that I work with. K.’s response: “That’s not true. That’s disgusting. That’s not zombies. Why do you think everything’s zombies? You always think things are zombies. It’s not zombies. Probably he was just a cuckoo. It was in Miami? He probably had sunstroke. Was he wearing sunscreen? Did the article say he was sufficiently hydrated, and wearing sunscreen?” IF YOU PEOPLE KEEP BURYING YOUR HEADS IN THE SAND THE ZOMBIES ARE JUST GOING TO BITE YOU IN THE ASSES. Also? You can still be infected by an ass-bite. I CAN’T TELL YOU EVERYTHING, PEOPLE. You need to do some RESEARCH.) 


NO, I’m not kidding. How could I make something like that up? Come on, even I’m not that twisted. Heh. Intestines. Twisted. Nice one, Amy. Thanks, Amy.

When the cops showed up at this shouty dude’s house, he started stabbing himself. They noticed his intestines were hanging out of him. He continued to stab himself, then PULLED HIS INTESTINES OUT and WIELDED THEM AT THE COPS. I like that he furnished his own disgusting weapons. You have to admire that kind of MacGuyverism. 

MacGuyver never used his own intestines to get out of a jam, but if the situation called for it, you can bet he would have. I have FAITH in you, MacGuyver.

The cops sprayed two cans of pepper spray at him. It did nothing. Well, why would it? Zombies can’t feel pain. THEY ARE ALREADY DEAD. 

(Although, listen, I’m not sure this one’s a zombie. I think this one might just be a demon or a revenant or something. This one seems to think and use crude tools too well to be a zombie.) 

This article doesn’t even tell us why this guy was using his own intestines as sticky weaponry. Just that he’s been treated in the past for mental problems. Huh. This is a worry.

You think we’re done, don’t you? WE ARE NOT DONE. Listen, you’ve been relaxing for FAR TOO LONG. The apocalypse is HERE, people. This week it HAILED on my HEAD in MAY. That’s total apocalypse behavior. 

On Memorial Day, this tweet was sent out from the University of Illinois: 


Now, the university is immediately all “ha ha! No, no. All is well! All has been contained. THERE IS TOTALLY NO DANGER AT ALL. But, if, you know, you see glow-in-the-dark monkeys with laser-beam eyes or maybe tentacle-beasts in the campus library bathroom, you might want to, oh, I don’t know, lock yourself in your dorm closet for the time being. With a sharpened dining-hall butter knife as a weapon. Just a thought.” 

I find it horrifying I did a search for “genetically altered monkeys” and THIS PHOTO CAME UP. You GUYS! There ARE glow in the dark monkeys! Oh, no no no.

Genomic Biology? Andreas, we’re in deep shit right now, right? Well, you’re not, you’ve got an ocean separating you from the glowing monkeys and tentacle-beasts and I don’t know that they can swim. But we are, right? I mean, I’m totally prepared for zombies but I don’t know how prepared I am for monkeys. They’re cunning, monkeys are. I can only assume whatever got spilled would make them MORE cunning. Oh, this is bad. This is so, so bad. Zombies are slow. Monkeys are NOT AT ALL SLOW. When I went to the zoo last month, there was this one monkey that was SO FAST. It was zipping all around its cage. And Dad was like, “Isn’t that baby monkey cute?” and I apparently looked horrified and he said, “What?” and I said, “I’m just imagining how fast that would be if it got in your bedroom at night in the dark and ripped off your face.” 

Dad just shook his head and worried about how my brain works but WHO’S LAUGHING NOW DAD. Not me, I’m too busy worrying about GLOW IN THE DARK GENETICALLY ALTERED MONKEY BEASTS. 

Now, I know, you want to know what you can do to prepare. I’m really kind of mad at you all for not already BEING prepared, but fine. I’ll help. Because I don’t want you to all be dead. Then who would read my blog? 

Stock up on non-perishable food items (and water, don’t be a dummy.) Also, if you can learn to hunt and can your own food, that’d be good. The non-perishables are only going to be good for a year or so, and then you’re going to get pretty hungry if you can’t fend for yourself. 

Learn to use weapons. Also, if you can get good at weapons that are self-sustaining, like axes or swords or something, that’d be good. Once all the bullets and arrows are looted, you’re shit out of luck, Good-Time Charlie. 

Find a place to hole up and be ready to defend that sucker. You might have to kill non-zombies to do it, because other people are going to try to steal your hidey-hole. If you’re squeamish, be ready to die. Nice knowing you. 

Bone up. Zombie movies/shows/literature. I know, it’s like homework. Well, it’s homework that can save your life, Slappy Jones. So put down the Draw Something and read a damn comic. 

Try not to get too attached. Your friends and family are going to get eaten. It’s just the way of the apocalypse. I mean, sure, you can mourn a little. But mourn too much, and your tear-soaked eyes are going to miss that zombie sneaking up on you to eat your face off. 

Learn basic survival skills. You already know you need to know how to hunt and can your own food. You also will need to know how to build a fire. Swimming would be good. Driving a standard. Building a shelter. Growing your own food. Purifying your own water. It’s kind of like competing on Survivor, except Jeff Probst wants to eat you. 

Fire is LIFE on the island. And your fire is about to GO IN MY MOUTHHOLE.

And, above all else, what did we learn from Zombieland? Which you watched as part of your homework, right? Right. The Double Tap, mofos. YOU NEED TO BE SURE THEY’RE DEAD. 

Don’t come crawling to me when the zombies come. I’m looking out for myself, Dumbcat, and The Nephew. A girl’s gotta have priorities. You’re on your own, my little squash blossoms. 

In the meantime, look out for the glow-in-the-dark monkeys. Speedy bastards. 

(I know there’s no way to PROVE this, but I’m totally writing this WEDNESDAY, and then this came out today, so now I look like a thief. I promise I’m not. It’s very good and any similarities are due to perhaps some sort of mind-meld vortex because I finished this at 1pm and read the article at 3pm so I don’t know. I did mention I was psychic. So maybe it’s that. Or you could just call me a liar and say I stole it, either way. But if I stole it, would I put a link to this article in my post? Am I really that devious a mastermind? Am I really?)

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