“Hey guys, maybe we should get out. I think I’m starting to prune.”

Jason Voorhees has certainly encountered many a worthy adversary during his tenure as Crystal Lake’s resident vacation buzz kill, yet none can hold a kerosene lamp to the high-waisted 80s beauty of Friday the 13th Part III’s Chris Higgins.  While her sequel counterparts arrive battle ready with bald caps, degrees in child psychology, and telekinetic powers, Chris travels light and has no choice but to pop her collar and run on pure instinct.  She doesn’t need her boyfriend’s corpse to swing from a tree and hit her in the face before she begins to suspect that somethin’ in the milk at Camp Crystal Lake ain’t clean.  Every haunted gaze and limb flailing over-reaction to rustling shrubbery makes it clear that this is a girl with a past. 

You see, Chris has apparently swum these murky waters before.  She makes endless vague references to some past trauma, conveniently turning frigid and glassy-eyed in response to sexual advances or requests from her friends to help unload the van.  Unable to tolerate her boyfriend’s relentless efforts to initiate physical intimacy, she finally tosses her head back in exasperation and agrees to spill her secrets.  It’s difficult not to sympathize—we’ve all been faced with that awkward moment at the end of a date when we blather on mindlessly out of fear that a would-be suitor will attempt some kind of funny business should the conversation cease. 

To that end, Chris expertly dispels any lingering hint of romance by launching into a haltingly delivered monologue.  She breathlessly describes the time she fled into the woods following a fight with her mother which eventually came to blows. A fight over, what else, a man.  It seems Chris fell asleep under a tree, only to be awakened by a disfigured maniac clawing at the zipper of her Cherokee jeans. She was able to repeatedly fend off her attacker only to black out when he finally grabbed hold of her ankle and dragged her off into the bushes. We the audience are left in stunned silence as we connect all two giant dots, realizing that Chris survived a sexual assault at the hands of none other than Jason Voorhees who is still lurking nearby. 

I like to imagine that this delightfully overwrought speech was actress Dana Kimmell’s audition piece, one which she no doubt tore through with amateurish abandon as studio executives exchanged knowing glances which said, “We’ve found our girl.”  Kimmell does manage to work herself up into quite a frenzy when Chris is once again forced to confront Jason. The big chase scene is truly one for the ages as by the end she has discovered the slaughtered remains of every single one of her friends, jumped through countless windows, stabbed Jason in the knee, hanged him in a barn, and put an axe through his head for good measure.  Poor Chris isn’t afforded a second to a catch her breath as she’s then surrounded by a flock of angry ducks before suffering a series of wild hallucinations.  She finally succumbs to madness when help arrives, and we see her seated in the back of a police cruiser shrieking hysterically before dissolving into maniacal laughter.  

Chris Higgins, you have won our respect and admiration.  On this, the only Friday the 13th of 2011, let it be known that your short reign as Miss Camp Crystal Lake has not been forgotten.  Of all the Friday Final Girls, you have taught us that we can confront past traumas, slay our personal demons, and emerge victorious without neglecting proper hair care (Lar Park Lincoln).  Your brush with insanity serves as a reminder that sometimes the only way to survive is to out-crazy crazy.  For this and so much more we salute you.

Happy Friday The 13th.

“I’m going to assume my invitation just got lost in the mail.”

Here’s hoping your Cinco de Mayo celebration wasn’t a fiesta del failure.  As el sol prepares to put us all on blast, remember that each day brings us closer to October—and let’s not forget that one week from today is Friday the 13th. Ah yes, the small pleasures we share will get us through this.  Read on for two Halfway to Halloween submissions that’ll help infuse your weekend with a little autumnal chill as Jason and Erin ponder their first encounters with horror.

Shaggy Jason: What IT is!

Growing up, it was fairly easy to sneak into the living room late at night and watch the television shows that were past curfew (how else was I going to learn about sex, if not from “Real Sex” on HBO?) The trick to this was just to keep the lights off and sit real close to the TV with the volume down low. Piece of cake.

The made-for-television movie “Stephen King’s IT” really stood out in my mind as something I wanted to see because of all the great comedic actors. I mean, this movie had John Ritter from “Three’s Company,” Harry Anderson from “Night Court,” Tim Reid from “WKRP in Cincinnati” and even Tim Curry from “Clue” as a funny-looking clown! I didn’t know who this Stephen King guy was who was getting all the credit, but surely he was some sort of comedy writer, right?

So there I was, sitting real close to the TV just waiting for the comedy to roll in after all the story setup at the beginning. Oh look, there’s Tim Curry now dressed up as that clown but… why is he in a storm drain? And why is reaching for this bOHMYGODHE’STHEDEVIL! I couldn’t look but I also couldn’t look away. Why was this happening? Are all clowns really just tricking me and possessed by some evil entity?

I went to bed that night not being able to sleep because I was convinced that the clown doll hanging from my closet door handle was really just a gatekeeper to Hell, which lay on the other side of the closet door. I long suspected something was off but now I knew. In the morning, the clown doll would be moved to inside the closet.

Years later, I remember hating having to shower in school. As if showering with other boys during puberty wasn’t bad enough, I was determined that the drains in the shower were also portals to Hell and refused to be alone at any given time. If I was, it was very brief.

These were the rules I had to keep to stay alive. Whether I knew that they stemmed from the movie or not, they can all be traced back to it.

I also couldn’t pass a storm drain without having to keep a safe distance (read: arm length) away. Even just last month, as I walked home at night, something shiny flickered in the moonlight from the gutter and I had to stop and cross the street right then. I continued to look behind me as I walked down that block, only to be startled by my own shadow as I turned the corner and faced my own shadow growing larger in front of me from the corner street lamp.

I don’t think I’ll ever be rid of Pennywise.

Erin Uncovers Her Root In Oz: Irrational Fears Blow

What scares the shit out of a 7 year old more than anything? That’s easy. The Wind. I have a very strong memory of being 6 or 7 years old at Marine Land (which was like Sea World, and on the cliff over looking the ocean) on a very windy day. I remember sobbing hysterically, so afraid the wind was going to pick me up and carry me away. I was genuinely TERRIFIED. My fathers girlfriend at the time ended up giving me a big rock to carry around with me, which calmed me down a great deal. Whatever I had to do to stay grounded.
 
Throughout my lifetime the fear of the wind continues to plague me. At the age of 16 I was driving across the desert on a very windy day with my family, and I am told I was so stricken with terror that I was on the floor of the car hovering. I recall being terrified that the wind would create a tunnel and pick the car up and flip it over.
 
These two instances stand out in my mind. It took me a very long time to understand where this irrational fear came from until my father revealed one day that he remembers letting me watch the Wizard of Oz at age 5. He told me that I became terrified of the tornado that whisks Dorothy away to a very annoying place. I was terrified of the wicked witch. Overall, I was just terrified. I have no memory of this. I have quite literally blocked it out. But every time the wind blows, I still get nervous.

Don’t cry out loud. Just keep it inside, learn how to hide your feelings…

Our Halfway to Halloween celebration continues with another reader who has agreed to go back and confront his horror movie trigger event.

Jared Asks The Big Questions: When It Comes to Horror, Is It Nature Or Nurture?

First it is important to know that I was raised in a slasher-free home. My parents didn’t necessarily outlaw ALL horror movies…just the ones that that strayed closer to real life scenarios. So while I could watch the likes of “Poltergeist”, “The Thing”, “Jaws”, and “The Shining”….I was forbidden to play with Jason, Freddy, Michael Myers, and Leatherface. So I did what any sheltered kid in elementary school
does…..watch them at a friend’s house during a sleepover of course!

As excited as I was to watch my first ‘big boy’ horror film, I was completely unprepared for the years of psychological torture that was to follow. I am not exaggerating when I say that Freddy Krueger SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME.

After that first viewing of the original “A Nightmare on Elm Street”, it didn’t take long for the long term effects to begin to surface. The first sign was when I stopped sleeping in bed. Not just my own bed. ANY bed. In that first week following my exposure to Freddy, I decided that my bed would only serve as a nightly target and the floor was a naturally safer place. This of course stems from the scene when Freddy – and his signature glove – burst through Johnny Depp’s mattress, pulls him into the pits of Hades, and erupts in a fountain of blood. No way was Freddy going to drag me to hell through my mattress nor was he going to get to me from under the covers. The cold hard floor would protect me!

I also began avoiding the telephone fearing that Freddy would be on the line and that his repulsive tongue would emerge from the handset. While those two scenes in particular were seered into my memory, I began to see Freddy around every corner (of my mind).

Once my parents caught on about what I had seen, my Dad (bless him for this) actually RENTED “A Nightmare on Elm Street” so that he could watch it for himself and then explain the practical effects that were used in the film-making process. Eventually I started sleeping in my bed again….as long as the closet door was closed….and locked.

All in all I would say that Freddy was definitely my primary childhood nemesis for a good 5 years and stands out as a source of trauma to this day.

“Of course I miss you, I’ve just been super busy…”

While my relationship with horror can adequately be described as long-term, I’m well aware that most of us can own up to a little experimentation with the genre at best.  Perhaps even a casual encounter when a friend convinced you to watch the latest “Saw” film after a few drinks?  I always had my suspicions, but your secret is safe with me.

No matter how you choose to define your present relationship, you can probably recall your first time in startling detail.  Those tedious, sticky fumblings as Jason descended upon a pair of unsuspecting campers.  Farther back in your childhood?   Many seem to have been traumatized by an unexpected run-in with Pennywise the dancing clown.  Sure, it all seems rather pathetic now, but at the time it was kind of a big deal. 

We all have a story, a movie or image that resulted in many a sleepless night and brought the question of our mortality into sharp focus.   In celebration of the fact that we are now officially Halfway to Halloween, I’m going to ask you to think back to your first horror film memory and share it with the group.  I think that will bring us all a lot closer.  My intention is to make this a regular feature, posting submissions as I receive them—please let me know if you’d be willing to contribute. 

To get us all started, several brave readers have agreed to go first.  For your pleasure, I now present  Three Tales of Terror.  Happy Halfway To Halloween.

Del Flies Fast & Loose With the Definition of “Horror”, Dives Deep & Finds The Terror Hidden Within “Beetlejuice”

When I was a wee girl of six and over at a friend’s house, that “friend” had a “mother” who decided that an appropriate movie for us to watch would be the recently-released “Beetlejuice.” While I have faint horrific memories of lips being zipped and skeletons, the memory that stuck with me most was from the opener — an innocent couple, trapped in their car, left to the mercy of a callous dog who simply didn’t pay attention to how important his paw placement was and, thus, killed them.

Nightmares of drowning and clawing desperately at glass stuck with me for years thereafter, along with a dread of planks extending over perilously plunging ponds, but I was still okay with dogs in general. That dog in the movie, though, was an asshole.

Simone: The Fearless Classy European/Anti-American Vampire Killer

The first horror movie I remember seeing as a child was “The Fearless Vampire Killers”, or as the title was translated in the Netherlands and how I remember it: “Met Jouw Tanden in Mijn Nek” (With Your Teeth in My Neck). Directed by Roman Polanski and staring Sharon Tate, his soon to be wife; his “soon to be murdered by the Manson Family while pregnant” wife (how’s that for an added little layer!) My parents figured that at 12 I was old enough to grasp irony, and this being a horror COMEDY, I should be alright. On top of that, the movie was both art (I guess because it was old and shown on the liberal, artsy TV channel) and a political statement, as it was directed by Polanski, who was a hero of sorts to my parents since he symbolized defiance to the U.S. Capitalist “bastard people” system they so despised (yes, they were “Arm Chair” Communists, sigh…), and as irony would have it, a country we ended up emigrating to 6 years later. But I digress.  In short, the movie FREAKED ME OUT!!!!! I have never been so scared in my life and did NOT see the humor in it AT ALL! For months after, I stayed vigilantly awake from midnight to 1am, which for some reason was stuck in my mind as Vampire Hour, so I would be ready to jump out my window if the vampires came for me – at the time I didn’t know they have super human powers and could’ve easily followed me out the window – thanks to the Anne Rice and Twilight series, now I know.  My other precautions included checking of neck for bite marks upon awaking (check); making sure everyone in vicinity still has an image reflected in mirror (check), refreshing stash of garlic next to bed and possibly adding more just in case (check and check), keeping cross under pillow for easy access and shoving in face of potential vampire in case of attack (check.) I had to go to my grandmother’s house for the cross, since my parents had renounced religion as the opium of the masses and we had none available, which pissed my grandmother off for more than one reason. I think I stayed in this raw survival-mode panic for about a month, after which it subsided somewhat, but to this day I never let my guard down completely and am ever vigilant of surprise vampire attacks (I don’t trust that Edward guy)! In fact, I’ve never given much thought to what to do in case of an earthquake or a real-life home invader, but I don’t think there are many vampires, or werewolves for that matter, that can pull a fast one on me!

Carla Questions What Sharks Are & How Rain May Facilitate Their Inevitable Killing Sprees

I wasn’t allowed to watch scary movies as a child. There had been a lot of talk around the house about a movie with a shark in it so I was intrigued, although it didn’t sound scary to me. I don’t even think I knew exactly what a shark was. One night, (a dark and stormy night) my older brothers had their friends over to watch JAWS 3D. I snuck into the den to spy and see what all this talk was about. I was sure I could handle it. I was wrong. So so wrong. I hobbled back to my bed after 15 minutes of watching Jaws out of control, biting legs, breaking glass, eating people on jet skis. It was horrible!

That summer my parents enrolled me in swimming lessons at Carson Park. Starting with the basic level “guppy” group. In order to graduate to “minnows” -level 2- your test was to jump off the diving board, into the deep end, and swim to the edge, safe and sound out of the pool. Ha! Not me. I wasn’t falling for it. I just KNEW Jaws was in there, waiting, laughing with his giant teeth, swimming around in circles. As soon as I got on the diving board I’d begin shaking, with a panicked look on my face. I couldn’t risk it. I failed guppies 3 times. Once every summer, three years in a row, until I was the oldest kid in the group. They ended up giving me an honorary diploma at the age of 9.

Patricia Arquette is turning 43 today, do you know how old that makes you? 

You’re right, best not to think about it.  Roll over and go back to dreaming about being consumed by a giant penis.  Come on, we both know it’s true.

1. Update your workout playlist with “Bishop’s Countdown” from the “Aliens” score.
2. Imagine that obesity, apathy, and any other self destructive tendencies have manifested physically in the form of the Alien Queen.
3. Run.

My internal monologue sounds like Margaret White, particularly when struggling with decisions such as whether to go to the gym or eat pizza while watching TV.

“I shoulda killed myself when he put it in me…but sin nevah dies…I was weak and backslidin’, and now the devil has come home.”

Upon waking this morning, I had the vague recollection of my sleep being disturbed by hacking coughs and jump-cut images of dingy infant limbs.  I immediately assumed I’d been hallucinating as my hazy memory of a television commercial warning of an impending Babypocalypse brought about by a whooping cough outbreak seeemed so absurdly bizarre.  A quick search has confirmed that I wasn’t dreaming at all, and this ridiculous ad does indeed exist.  Apparently it started airing in October of 2010, biding its time for several months before crawling out of Jenny McCarthy’s nightmares and worming its way into mine.  You might think this experience would put an end to my habit of falling asleep while watching TV Land.  You’d be wrong.  However, I’ve never been more convinced that babies will eventually kill us all, and holding one is always a bad idea.

Miko Hughes, diminutive star of “Pet Sematary” and “Wes Craven’s New Nightmare”, is turning 25 today.  In honor of the wunderkind’s notable contributions to horror cinema, why not consider a little film inspired prank?   Your significant other will applaud your efforts to spice up your sex life when you hide under the bed and playfully swipe at his or her Achilles tendon with a scalpel.  You rascal! 

If you prefer something a little more “hands off”, you can never go wrong with a well-executed crank call a la undead Gage Creed or Heather Langenkamp’s “New Nightmare” stalker.   Don’t over think it—a simple “Reh! Reh! Reh! This is Freddy Krueger!” can often be quite effective.   Please feel free to refer to the Howard Stern audio clip below if you need a little inspiration.  I’m not really a Stern fan, but the unbridled enthusiasm Wendy brings to her Freddy impression sure is infectious. 

Have fun, and happy birthday to Miko Hughes!

Howard Stern Clip-Wendy as Freddy Krueger