By one of my favorite fractured fiends, to pen a zombie mash-up to the theme from the Brady Bunch. Or, as we undead lovelies prefer to say - The Brady Lunch!
After all, October is all about HALLOWEEN, ye grim little goblins!
So. Methinks I'd best be getting out the ol' rhyming dictionary, hadn't I?
"There was a story, 'twas somewhat gory, ..."
PS ... don't tell Zombie Girrrl, but I am sooooo going to get her! Stay tuned to find out how I do it ;D hehehehehe
Showing posts with label Halloween. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Halloween. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Friday, October 1, 2010
October Trix-N-Treatz EVENT
Harken up, all you brazen book lovin' maladapts!!!
One of my very best blog buds is hosting a wickedly awesome MONTH LONG event with tons of gruesome giveaways, interviews, interactive mayhem & ghostly goodness galore!
CLICK HERE to visit Doctor Viii and check out her schedule of activities.
Just a word o' warning, my wee charnal chums:
She's starting the month off with a bang! First one the list is *The Carnivale* ...
brrr. Brave I may be with zombies, vamps & shape shifters.
But!
Carnivals scare the beejeezis outta me.
Truth.
Especially creepy ones ...
I'd rather face a horde of slathering werewolves than a crowd of evil, cheesy-face clowns.
Ugh.
Dolls, too. With those fixed, glassy eyed stares. :0
PS. Rumor has it that sometime during the month aliens may be involved!?!
We'll have to check in with Bubba and the good folk at Tiny Trailer Town in
Pitfalls, Illinois to get the skinny.
Might even be a giveaway ...
So grab the tin foil and start making those anti-alien hats, boyz n' ghouls!
And while you're waiting to see where the nefarious space-pirate-people-grabbin' bug-eyed evil Greys are headed next, drop in at Velvet's for a helluva good time.
Tell her Bubba sent you!
Saturday, October 3, 2009
The Best Part of Waking UP
You know it's not going to be a 'good day' when you wake up inside a coffin.
My first clue comes when I go to stretch, and my arm is stopped short by a hard, unforgiving surface just inches from my face. That is when I panic.
You cannot imagine what the panic is like, the desperate gasps for air, the squirming, the struggle for freedom ...
Little by little, as slow realization overcomes your sleep-drugged senses, you first scratch, then claw, your whimpers turn to screams.
And there is no one to hear.
No one to release you from your satin prison.
Insanity wars with resignation, resignation resigns itself to cold, clear-headed logic, ... only for the cycle to repeat itself endlessly.
I hate it.
See, this is the dirty little secret of vampires everywhere. The secret no one likes to talk about. The one nasty little ugly we keep quiet from the living. Our little place in Hell we rarely mention, but must visit every sundown.
We forget. For just a few moments (and, trust me ... those few moments are an eternity unlike any other) ... we FORGET all that has preceded us, and must begin again. For just a little while. Until our undead consciousness finds its place once more.
See, and though I never paid that much attention in school, it seems that the body consciousness (the brain - for all your dimwitted mortals) dies along with the body. The brain, of course, is where memory once resided. Yet, and this so sux, with the brain ... how shall I say this? ... no longer the captain of this undead ship, we vampires don't have access to yesterday's events in the same way that YOU have. We have to wait suffer linger until our soul consciousness kicks in.
And that can feel like a mighty long wait.
This lapse is what truly makes us vulnerable to you silly, stupid mortals. Otherwise we'd tear your lily white throats to shreds when you dared to disturb our slumber.
Once in a while, the fear is so great, I will actually wet myself. And you haven't lived, my peeps, until you've peed blood. Literally. Think they'll be making Depends for that one anytime soon?!
So forgive me if I'm a little bad tempered today. I woke up on the wrong side of the wood. TODAY took me a little longer than usual to remember who I was and where I was.
Forgive me for lunging at your throat.
But I'm usually better tempered once I've had breakfast. Nothing like a McMortal to start the day, I always say.
My first clue comes when I go to stretch, and my arm is stopped short by a hard, unforgiving surface just inches from my face. That is when I panic.
You cannot imagine what the panic is like, the desperate gasps for air, the squirming, the struggle for freedom ...
Little by little, as slow realization overcomes your sleep-drugged senses, you first scratch, then claw, your whimpers turn to screams.
And there is no one to hear.
No one to release you from your satin prison.
Insanity wars with resignation, resignation resigns itself to cold, clear-headed logic, ... only for the cycle to repeat itself endlessly.
I hate it.
See, this is the dirty little secret of vampires everywhere. The secret no one likes to talk about. The one nasty little ugly we keep quiet from the living. Our little place in Hell we rarely mention, but must visit every sundown.
We forget. For just a few moments (and, trust me ... those few moments are an eternity unlike any other) ... we FORGET all that has preceded us, and must begin again. For just a little while. Until our undead consciousness finds its place once more.
See, and though I never paid that much attention in school, it seems that the body consciousness (the brain - for all your dimwitted mortals) dies along with the body. The brain, of course, is where memory once resided. Yet, and this so sux, with the brain ... how shall I say this? ... no longer the captain of this undead ship, we vampires don't have access to yesterday's events in the same way that YOU have. We have to wait suffer linger until our soul consciousness kicks in.
And that can feel like a mighty long wait.
This lapse is what truly makes us vulnerable to you silly, stupid mortals. Otherwise we'd tear your lily white throats to shreds when you dared to disturb our slumber.
Once in a while, the fear is so great, I will actually wet myself. And you haven't lived, my peeps, until you've peed blood. Literally. Think they'll be making Depends for that one anytime soon?!
So forgive me if I'm a little bad tempered today. I woke up on the wrong side of the wood. TODAY took me a little longer than usual to remember who I was and where I was.
Forgive me for lunging at your throat.
But I'm usually better tempered once I've had breakfast. Nothing like a McMortal to start the day, I always say.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Mary Ann DeBorde - New Digs
There Ghost the Neighborhood - A Halloween Tale
"It's pleased I am to meet you. I heard tell they's a new kid on the block. Reckon it's time we got around to sayin' our how do's. I hope you like it here. I do. Me and the Missus been here a long time, though it don't seem such. Time has a way of getting on, you'll see what I mean after a spell.
"I always thought this a purty place to take up. A good neighborhood, one of them fancy 'gated communities', even if it is a might on the rundown side of things. As long as they keep out the riff-raff, them wild 'uns, I 'spect it'll stay nice enough.
"I'll introduce you to folk first thing sundown when we all gets together. We're a fair sociable bunch, some a little too sociable like the Widder Brown, if you hark my meanin'. I don't take no truck with shenanigans and neither do the Missus. We been here a long time and a might set in our ways, I'm proud to say.
"Now, downhill yonder ... see that scrawny old birch what looks like a snake sheddin' its skin? They's where the Blackwells put down, the whole clan o' them. They's Ma and Pa Blackwell then they's some of the kids, and their kids, and I think mebbe a few blocks back behind they's cousins scattered 'bouts. Most all them Blackwells be okay, but ol' Pa Blackwell, he don't get up much once the weather turns cold-like. Rheumatism in the bones, Ma says.
"Okay. Now see over left yonder of your place, they's the Reverend Oliver George. He don't stand on no ceremony, so most of the folk call him Ollie. I still calls him Reverend and so do the Missus. We been here a long time and believe in showing respect where respect's due, by gum.
"Next door Reverend, they's the twins, Laverne and Leona. They like things all neat and tidy, grass all trimmed proper n' such with big fancy statues come all the way over from Italy. Nice enough gals but a might uppity for me and the Missus.
"Them lights? Oh no, they's a strange bunch backup yonder close by the old bridge. I ain't a tellin' you what is your business or none, just showin' you whichaway the wind's blowin', that's all. I'd keep my distance, boy. Even the Widder don't truck with that bunch.
"See, years back that area were let go and empty like, 'til this bunch took up by the old bridge - like carpetbaggers or such. They just moved right in and kinda took over the place without so much as a by-your-leave. A noisy lot of 'em ... always screamin' and a hollerin 'when good folks is trying to take a rest.
"Well, I guess they's about it. Sun be a comin' up before too long and these old bones tire out easy-like. I hope you get settled in right soon enough. That there coffin o' yours looks mighty comfortable, kinda flashy with all that red satin going on. But die and let die, I always says.
"You got any questions, just you ask me and the Missus. Oh, and I hope you're not a groaner or a moaner. Me and the Missus been here a long time and we don't take no truck with spooks makin' too much noise. We like things quiet in our part o' the cemetery, hope you remember that".
"It's pleased I am to meet you. I heard tell they's a new kid on the block. Reckon it's time we got around to sayin' our how do's. I hope you like it here. I do. Me and the Missus been here a long time, though it don't seem such. Time has a way of getting on, you'll see what I mean after a spell.
"I always thought this a purty place to take up. A good neighborhood, one of them fancy 'gated communities', even if it is a might on the rundown side of things. As long as they keep out the riff-raff, them wild 'uns, I 'spect it'll stay nice enough.
"I'll introduce you to folk first thing sundown when we all gets together. We're a fair sociable bunch, some a little too sociable like the Widder Brown, if you hark my meanin'. I don't take no truck with shenanigans and neither do the Missus. We been here a long time and a might set in our ways, I'm proud to say.
"Now, downhill yonder ... see that scrawny old birch what looks like a snake sheddin' its skin? They's where the Blackwells put down, the whole clan o' them. They's Ma and Pa Blackwell then they's some of the kids, and their kids, and I think mebbe a few blocks back behind they's cousins scattered 'bouts. Most all them Blackwells be okay, but ol' Pa Blackwell, he don't get up much once the weather turns cold-like. Rheumatism in the bones, Ma says.
"Okay. Now see over left yonder of your place, they's the Reverend Oliver George. He don't stand on no ceremony, so most of the folk call him Ollie. I still calls him Reverend and so do the Missus. We been here a long time and believe in showing respect where respect's due, by gum.
"Next door Reverend, they's the twins, Laverne and Leona. They like things all neat and tidy, grass all trimmed proper n' such with big fancy statues come all the way over from Italy. Nice enough gals but a might uppity for me and the Missus.
"Them lights? Oh no, they's a strange bunch backup yonder close by the old bridge. I ain't a tellin' you what is your business or none, just showin' you whichaway the wind's blowin', that's all. I'd keep my distance, boy. Even the Widder don't truck with that bunch.
"See, years back that area were let go and empty like, 'til this bunch took up by the old bridge - like carpetbaggers or such. They just moved right in and kinda took over the place without so much as a by-your-leave. A noisy lot of 'em ... always screamin' and a hollerin 'when good folks is trying to take a rest.
"Well, I guess they's about it. Sun be a comin' up before too long and these old bones tire out easy-like. I hope you get settled in right soon enough. That there coffin o' yours looks mighty comfortable, kinda flashy with all that red satin going on. But die and let die, I always says.
"You got any questions, just you ask me and the Missus. Oh, and I hope you're not a groaner or a moaner. Me and the Missus been here a long time and we don't take no truck with spooks makin' too much noise. We like things quiet in our part o' the cemetery, hope you remember that".
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