Shadowlight's Lighthouse

Shock Theatre (Caution: Crazy Vampire Humor, may cause disgust)
July 12th, 2009
Mal: "I need someone I can watch bad movies with. I remember, back in the 50s, I spent some time in Chicago, and I knew this guy named Marvin Jobblewocki"---

Sally: "Mal, not another one of your long, crazy, contradicting backstories, ok?"

Mal: "c'mon, Sally, you'll like this one. He was a were-owl. "

Sally: "...a were? natural or infected?"
Mal: "Well, infected. He had a curse that was going around back then and it spread."

"What do you mean, it spread?"

"You know-- worsened, overran its boundaries, got blurry. See, it was a popular curse at the time. It made you a morning person from dawn to dusk, but a Night Owl after the sun went down. Gave you more pep and vigor, and more time in your day. Executives would sometimes hire gypsies to curse their employees so they could work longer hours. Marvin did lots of media work, so I'm not sure which company put the mojo on him, but after a few years, he began to have side effects."

"Ooh, a curse with a downside. I'm so surprised."

"Sure, but, that's where the were-owl part comes in. I guess his wife (her name was Judy, or something like that) must have been a natural were, although they didn't talk about that kind of thing back then. She always claimed her high-speed regenerative abilities came from being a high school cheerleader back in Texas. Apparently, if you can live through that, nothing really hurts afterwards."

" Wait, she couldn't talk about being a were, but she was regenerating right in front of people?"

"No, no, of course not. She'd excuse herself and go to the bathroom...powder her nose, regrow some fingers, adjust her makeup, and come out fresh as a daisy."

"Regrow fingers? When did this happen?"

"I don't know, like, every Saturday night, I guess. He was always cutting off her fingers, or toes, or setting her on fire, or daring her to cure her constipation by drinking drain cleaner. (I don't know for certain, but I think it worked, too. She was in a much better mood when she finally came out of the bathroom that time.)"

"Ok, Mal, several things. 1, ewwww, gross. 2. Why the HELL was he cutting off her FINGERS?? 3. you've done it again, and when and if you finish this story, I will hurt you. 4. What does this have to do with a were-owl curse? and 5. How do you know all this?"

"The curse was *why* he was cutting off her fingers. I think the interaction between the original curse and exposure to his wife's lycanthropy caused the elements of his personality to separate out, like in one of those spinny things doctors use."

Steven: "You mean a centrifuge."

Mal: "Right. So the morning person became so insufferably perky and cheerful and whitebread only children could understand him. He began to wear shirts with his initials on them and compose educational songs. (On the other hand, he used every product exactly as directed, to get optimal results.)
At night, however, the owl persona would take over. He started to enjoy playing with people's minds. He needed big glasses, indirect lighting, and developed a taste for flesh in small, bite-size pieces. He'd dress all in black, play in a beatnik jazz band, and on saturday nights, he'd throw these great cocktail parties and show movies at his house. I met him at a beat club downtown where the Deadbeats were playing. (That's what they were called.)"

Sally: "So, instead of eating rats like a normal owl, he'd cut off his wife's fingers and eat them??"

Mal:"Oh, everybody ate them. y'know--cocktail platters, ladyfingers? It wasn't like she wasn't growing new ones. The blood was really tangy. I think she *has* to have been a were something. ...but I think he really did it to get a reaction from people. "

Sally: "ok...reaction accomplished. How long did he do this before he was arrested?"

"The Chicago cops were in the pocket of Big Voodoo back then. Everybody knew if they dragged him to court, he'd be squeaky clean and squarer than a shoebox when the jury saw him. I lost track of him around '57. I heard he'd gone to New York, made his fortune as a Yes Man on Madison Avenue, then retired to Florida and bought a farm."

Steven: "uh, Mal, when you say he 'bought a farm'---" (Sally, behind Mal, makes a tightlipped head-shaking gesture) "uh, like, an Orange Grove? a Flamingo Ranch, maybe?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe I should try to find him on the internet."

Sally: "Nah, Mal, you know how it is. You find people when it's time to find them again. Looking is for suckers---uh, I mean, for fools--- uh, y'know, it's just not your style. I think you should just get distracted with something completely unrelated, and forget all about this, before I decide to actually give you that beating I promised ten minutes ago."

Small Victories
July 9th, 2009
Day off Tuesday: got, maybe, half my to-do list done, including calls to the Shadow Lady and the Man called Dad. Dad was in a tizzy because his landlords respond to a misplaced rent check by threatening eviction in five days. Probably not any more legal down there than it is here. Wish these drones wouldn't scare him with their nonsense.
Wednesday: worked 8-5, am so not a morning person, around 7pm shrugged off the sensation of being squashed into unconsciousness so I could scratch a few more things off Tuesday's to-do list. By the time I got back from the grocery store, I wasn't tired at all and wasted hours surfing wikipedia's entries on tv "horror hosts" from Vampira to Elvira, Count Floyd to Dr. Morgus, Ghoulardi to Marvin, the Near-Sighted Madman (Something indefinably cool about Marvin. Here we have Terry Bennett, a man who maintained he was far happier at his weekday morning gig as a children's show host, spending his Saturday nights in a black sweater and oversized glasses, trying to be as morbid as possible...and succeeding so well there's no entry for the actor or the children's show on wikipedia, you have to follow the citation links for those. Guess we know what kind of people update wikipedia. Drinking poison, showing bad movies, and constantly cutting off pieces of his wife (she regenerates while off-camera.)...and half a century later, fondly remembered. In this, there is some lesson about the allure of horror, the true meaning of Halloween... I've never quite gotten this right, the unity of primal responses: passion, fear, laughter. I want... )

Anyway, Thursday I check in with Dad (the Rent Crisis is averted. The left hand drone just hadn't gotten around to keeping his promise to give the check to the right hand drone who properly deals with it.) Then, I go out into the Outer Circle to find the Auto Parts place. It takes me three turn-arounds and an hour to go less than ten miles, but I finally own a replacement taillight (for the one that was broken in, y'know, winter). (Coming Tuesday, Hopper (my car) gets her big long-overdue fix-up of everything that's falling apart. ) Then I drop off the clothes and sleeping bags at Goodwill, find out they also take books, and ask if they have mens' shoes (not really) or summer-weight shirts. Directed to the corner of the store where Mens' wear is strategically contained, I find no Hawaiian shirts... but something better in the long run: one lightweight shirt with thick white and bluish-black horizontal stripes; one slate-grey pair of belt-less cotton pants; one black waist-length jacket. I'll reclaim the black hair color spray from my giveaway pile, and then I'll just need some pale makeup, maybe some red eyeshadow, and hair gel to make my hair more unmanageable than it already is. *michievous, slightly crazed smile* I'm nearly ready for Halloween. If only I were ready for August. Most of the to-do list done. (most)