I’m glad to say that I’ve survived the mutant vampire zombie invasion. October has become an excuse for programmers to parade out all manner of horror flicks. Break out the crappy special effects and pull up a bowl of popcorn. Unfortunately, vampires are out of season, zombies are so yesterday, and the favorite Halloween costume for the year is Charlie Sheen, the poster child for drugged up wackadoodles. Are we seeing the birth of a new horror genre?
It was a dark and stormy night. Matt tried once again to start the engine, but it refused to turn over. “I’m sorry,” he said to his cast of college companions, “but we’re going to have to walk. Maybe there’s a spooky old mansion nearby where we can split up and get picked off one by one.”
“Hooray!” Came the chorus from the back of the van.
They got out and started trudging up the street, when a sudden flash of lightning showed the unmistakable outline of a mansion. The garden was choked with weeds, and the mutant topiary zoo animals had branches sprouting at all angles, making them look like mutant topiary zoo animals.
“Spooky!” Wendy whispered, as they stepped up on the porch. The door opened before they could knock, and there stood a 20 year-old goddess wearing nothing but a lace teddy and a wicked grin.
“Ooh! You must be cold,” she said. “Come in so we can pick you off one by one.”
“Hooray!” they shouted.
Just then, a figure appeared at the top of the marble staircase. His hair was wild, his eyes were bloodshot, and there was a dusting of white powder around his nose. He was brandishing a machete and swigging from a bottle marked “Tiger Blood.” “You can start worshipping me any time now,” he slurred as he staggered down the stairs.
They watched in horror as he tripped and tumbled down the last three stair steps. The machete clattered to the floor, skittering past the goddess.
She picked it up gingerly, and said, “Looks like you lost your poker again. Don’t worry, baby. It happens to the best of men sometimes.”
With a muffled curse, the man lurched to his feet and lumbered toward the girls, his arms outstretched. “I have Adonis DNA,” he shouted. “They can’t make me wear the ugly shirts anymore!” With an ungainly leap he grabbed the machete from the goddess and began brandishing it in the air. “I’m winning!” he cried.
Suddenly, the lights went out, there was a great deal of shuffling and banging, and the college girls screamed. In the flicker of lightning, the doors flew open, and there stood Alan and Jake.
Jake stepped between the terrified co-eds and the machete wielding madman.
“C’mon, man. Isn’t it enough that we had to go all Ashton Kutcher on your ass?”
The Adonis wannabe dropped the machete and threw his hands over his ears. “La-la-la-la. I can’t hear you.”
Matt turned to Alan. “If he bites us, do we turn into arrogant wackadoodles too?” The other co-eds looked worried, since they were extras and more likely to be infected with the Adonis DNA.
“Don’t worry. We’ve put up with him for eight seasons, and we’re still normal.”
“C’mon guys.” Matt signaled to his friends. “I’m soooo going to talk to my agent. I think I’ll stick to zombie flicks from here on out. This guy makes the walking dead look normal.”
“Hooray for zombies!” they all cried, because sometimes, having your brains eaten isn’t such a bad thing.