Well, it seems that John-John (who writes John-John's Video Reviews) decided to have his pals over for an all-night film fest. It wasn't exactly a success, as you'll see when you read all about...
By JOHN-JOHN Moms don’t mean to, I guess, but they can just about ruin anything. I mean, I’m trying to get Mom and Dad to let me have my pals Jimmy Johnston and Floyd Reed over on a Friday night to sleep over, and Mom suddenly claps her hands and says: "Oh! It’ll be just like a slumber party! Isn’t that sweet?" I just about gagged on the cream corn. Dad started laughing, so hard he had to have Mom hit him on the back and all. "Hey, that’s real sweet, John-John," Dad told me when he got his breath back. "You can have a sweet little slumber party with your little friends!" Then he started laughing--and choking—again, so Mom hit him on the back, a lot harder this time, I noticed. "Aw, Dad," I tried to explain. "It’s just Floyd and Jimmy sleeping over in my room—they’re bringing their sleeping bags and stuff. That’s all." "You mean—you mean—" Dad was still laughing. "You’re not planning to have a pillow fight?" Then he was off again, with Mom whacking him on the back. Well, you can see that Mom’s dumb comment just about ruined everything. Dad just laughed like crazy whenever I asked him about it. Finally, though, he said he and Mom agreed I could have the slumber party—I mean, sleep over. Cripes! Another thing that caused trouble was when Mom found out Floyd was bring his little portable TV-VCR to the sleep over. Mom’s kinda suspicious that I sneak out Uncle Renfield’s horror videos and watch em on the sly. Course, I do, but I’m not admitting it or anything. So when she asks about the TV-VCR, I told he we were going to watch that video she bought me—The Neverending Story—you know, that dopey movie where this kid rides this big puppet dog—real kiddie junk. "Well, all right," Mom said. "Just make sure that’s all you watch, Mister." (Mom calls me "Mister" when she’s ticked off at me.) * * * So, anyway, Friday night rolls around—finally—and Jimmy and Floyd are up in my bedroom. Floyd sets up the TV-VCR and we’re all set. "What you got?" Jimmy asked me. "Well, I asked Uncle Renfield and he told me about three videos he said were perfect for the sleep over." "Uncle Renfield did that?" Jimmy asked. "I thought he was still p.o.ed about your messing up his only video of Equinox." "Aw, he’s over that. Anyway, here’s the tapes—Frankenstein’s Bloody Terror, Horror Of The Blood Monsters, and Dracula Vs. Frankenstein." "Blood—that’s good," Jimmy said. Jimmy likes real gory movies, like the Freddie and Jason stuff—he always rates movies by what he calls the "body count." "Sound like a triple play," Floyd agreed. His Dad got him into collecting baseball cards and he uses baseball words a lot now. "Yeah, Uncle Renfield said they’re all by this Al Adamson guy, who was a great horror movie maker, Uncle Renfield says." "Al Adamant?" Jimmy asked. "I think my older sister used to listen to his CDs." "Naw, that’s someone else. Let’s go for the first video." I popped Frankenstein’s Bloody Terror in the TV-VCR.
What a rip! We didn’t ever get through the writing on the front of the movie before we knowed we were in trouble. "What’s this about "Wolfstein"?" Jimmy asked. "I thought it was about Frankenstein and all." "Are they saying that Frankenstein turned into a werewolf?" Floyd asked. "I don’t know." I said. "All I know is, this bites." Well, we watched the video and it continued to bite. No Frankenstein, just a raggedy-looking werewolf and a couple greasy-looking vampires. Not much blood, either. "See," said Jimmy. "They’re moving their lips but the words don’t match. This is a foreign movie!" "Maybe they don’t have Frankenstein where this movie was made," I said. "Man, that was bogus," Jimmy said when the movie ended. "Hardly any gore and a low body count." "Strike one," said Floyd. So, we popped in Horror Of The Blood Monsters.
"Hey—what is this—Star Wars?" Jimmy asked. "Star Wars in someone’s backyard," Floyd said. "Look, someone’s hand is "landing" that toy spaceship!" "What happened to the color?" I asked. "Everything’s red!" "Now it’s all green!" Jimmy said. "Floyd, your set’s all messed up." "It’s not the set," Floyd said. "It’s the movie!" So the movie kept changing color, and these space people watched these cave people, some with long, pointy teeth, roll around in the dirt. Then the movie was over. "Man, that was even worse!" Jimmy said. "Caveman vampires!" "Strike two," said Floyd. I could tell Floyd and Jimmy were ticked. There was almost a whole bowl of Fritos left. "All right, all right," I said. "But this last one’s gotta be good—Dracula Vs. Frankenstein!" I popped it in. Jimmy and Floyd still looked p.o.ed. But the movie’s front writing was pretty good. "Looks like we’ll get a Dracula and a Frankenstein this time," Floyd admitted. "But what’s that ray Drac’s shooting out of his ring?" "I don’t know, but it’s cool!" Jimmy said. The movie didn’t stay cool, though.
"I don’t get this—first Drac bites this guy on the neck in a graveyard, then this woman’s looking for her sister, now we’re at this crummy carnival with this fat old guy chopping off ladies heads," Floyd said. "That fat old guy...wasn't he a werewolf or something in some old movie?" I asked. "Maybe...bet his name wasn't Wolfstein, though," Floyd said. "At least this movie's got some gore," Jimmy said. "Not much of a body count, though." "That old guy in the wheelchair—the one with the machines that don’t work—he’s Dr. Frankenstein, right?" Floyd asked. "Yeah…I think so," I said. "What’s he doing in a crummy carnival—with a fat ax man and a midget?" Floyd asked. "And how come Drac looks like such a dork with that beard?" Jimmy asked. "And he talks with an echo!" "I don’t know," I told them. "I didn’t make this movie!" That was bad enough. Then we saw the Frankenstein monster—we nearly spit out Fritos laughing! "Look at that face—it’s like that Poppin Fresh from those commercials!" "Naw, it’s all oatmeal! Or papier-mâché!" After that, we kept watching the video just to see what stupid stuff would happen next. "There’s that ray ring thing," Floyd said. "How come Drac didn’t use it before?" "Hey, Drac killed off the good guy!" Jimmy said. "Now what?" Then we watched the oatmeal-face Frankenstein monster take on the dorky Dracula. It wasn’t exactly WWF. "Man—can’t see a thing—except it looks like Drac’s got clown makeup on," Floyd said. "What’s Drac pulling out of Frankenstein—is that gore?" Jimmy asked. "It’s so dark I can’t see nothing." "Why doesn’t Drac use his ray ring on Frankenstein?" Floyd asked. Then Frankenstein was in pieces, but Drac was caught in the sunlight. He dropped dead. Then the lady they kidnapped just wandered around. Then it was over. "Jeeze! That was awful. It oughta be called "Crudula Vs. Suckenstein"!" Jimmy said. "Strike three," Floyd said. We sat a minute, looking at the blank screen. "Uhh...anyone interested in a pillow fight?" I asked. *** So, all in all, it was a pretty stinky slumber party--I mean, sleep over--everything considered. Uncle Renfield was sure wrong about those movies! I didn’t know how he could have been so wrong. But Floyd had an idea about that. "I don’t think your Uncle Renfield really has gotten over your ruining his tape," he said. Well, maybe. But the next sleep over, I’ll pick the videos! Aw, come on, John-John...Uncle Renfield forgives you...now, he forgives you...heh-heh... |
