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Archives Book Reviews Brent R. Oliver Posts

End of Summer: Book Review

End of Summer Cover

End of Summer by J. Tonzelli is a book that tries really hard. It wormed into all my comfortable places and I wanted to like it. The thirteen short stories it contains are centered on Halloween, which is a soft spot for most of us in the scare industry. Cool weather, changing leaves jumping off trees, longer nights, kids in costumes: all these things warm our jagged little hearts. This is my favorite time of year and I read End of Summer hoping it would evoke seasonal feelings in me.

The introduction was promising. Tonzelli tries to explain his own love of Halloween and falls a bit short, though in an admirable way. For those of us who love this holiday, the reasons are often ineffable. There are some concrete things, of course, but for the most part, we just fucking adore Halloween. It speaks to something inside and, as clichéd as it is, if it requires explanation, you’re probably not going to get it. Tonzelli captures this perfectly in his intro and I read on optimistically.

Turns out that was my favorite part. Everything after that felt like it was a rehash of an existing story, idea, or theme. Nothing felt original and many of the stories were the same tired old critters we drag out and pet on Halloween.

The opener, “Stingy Jack,” features a typical smooth-talking, tantrum-throwing Devil trying rather lamely to corral the soul of a drunk. Despite being the Devil, he seems at a loss to outsmart the drunk, tripping over a couple of tricks older than apples. Will he eventually win out? Probably. We’ve read these things before.

The final offering, “Dumb Supper,” is a generic Halloween yarn. It’s the sort of thing that appears in every collection of dark tales and would be right at home on the YA shelf. It takes place in the kitchen where a wife is reluctantly hosting her dead husband’s grumpy, asshole spirit for dinner. He can only come once a year, they have to be quiet and sneaky, he’s obviously escaped some dark force for the moment…you know the drill.

The eleven stories between these two are equally exhausted and worked over. It’s material that needs a fresh angle or wide streak of novelty to be interesting again but we don’t get that. Instead, it’s just business as usual. We’ve got our regular-ass, plain old haunted house. There’s a reluctantly evil couple sacrificing their young niece to ensure a bountiful crop. Let’s see, a man who killed his hated wife but is tortured by ghostly visions of her. Oh, and there’s the guy that watched his best childhood chum burn to death on Halloween. He didn’t set the kid on fire himself but he was sort of indirectly responsible and he’s been plagued by guilt ever since. That guy gets revisited by his friend’s smoky spirit every year on Halloween at exactly 12:37am.

While it seems obvious that Tonzelli wants to pay affectionate tribute to the motifs of Halloween that we all love, he seems unconcerned with breathing any fresh life into them. They remain as they were: antiquated; trite; worn at the seams; ready for retirement. Tonzelli turns a few innovative phrases occasionally to spice things up but these are few and far between.

End of Summer certainly isn’t the worst thing you could read this month. If you like curling up by the fire with a warm glass of cider, listening to your spooky sounds CD, and relaxing into comforting familiarity, this is your book. However, if you’re looking for something outside the box, go ahead and skip this one.

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Archives What Comes Next

Transmissions from ScareFest 7

Most of these words are true.

On September 13, 2014, I attended ScareFest, a horror & paranormal convention held in Lexington, KY.  This is the 7th year of its existence.  I happen to live in Lexington, KY, and I have no excuses for missing the previous 6.  Before my Wizard World experience, I had never been to a convention.  I attribute my attendance to ScareFest this year to the great time I had at Wizard World.  Still, it’s ridiculous that this convention takes place in my town and I had never been.  I have brought shame upon my family.

Unlike Wizard World, I would be flying solo.  So I got up, threw on my Zombie Fights Shark t-shirt(seemed festive), and made the 10 minute drive to Rupp Arena.  Home to the Cats, and, on this weekend, home to the ghouls.

I parked a few blocks away and walked.  On my way through the parking lot, I passed many cars with bumper stickers.  The Misfits.  Necronomicon.  Michael Myers.  Jason Voorhees.  Zombies.  I looked around and smiled, knowing I was about to be among my people.  By the end of the day, I would be adding a new bumper sticker to my car, signaling to the others that I belonged.

Hail to the '01 Prizm, baby
Hail to the ’01 Prizm, baby

It wasn’t hard to find the entrance: all I had to do was follow the screams.  I found myself traveling in a group of people dressed as various characters from The Walking Dead.  “Those screams aren’t real, right?” I wondered aloud.  None of them looked up at me.  They just put their heads down and shuffled forwards.  If I were to die, I would do it with characters from a show I sorta-kinda like sometimes.

Jason Aldean and Florida Georgia Line were playing a concert at Rupp Arena later that evening, which gave the crowd a bit of a weird mix.  I saw people dressed as monsters, bloody clowns and zombies walking among people wearing cowboy hats, boots and tight jeans.  The Grim Reaper made small talk with John Wayne while waiting in line for food.  It was strange and beautiful.

I never did discover the source of the screams, but I found the ticket window, grabbed my wristband and headed through the doors.  A skeleton stared at me from above as I walked underneath.  I thought it kind of looked like me, though that could have just been my brain playing tricks.

sf-02-banner

 

I stepped inside the doors to find a young child being attacked by Freddy Krueger and Jason Voorhees, while Billy the Puppet sat on his tricycle grinning like an idiot.  I thought about stepping in, but I’m only one man.  That kid lived enough of his life to enjoy it, but not long enough to be cynical.  I hope you find comfort in the next life, young man.

sf-03-child-attacked

 

As it turns out, I could probably find him in the next life, as the next thing I saw was a sign for the Ghost Hunter Shop.  Books.  Vests.  Smudge sticks.  If you’re looking for ghost hunting supplies, they had it there.  The Ghost Hunter shop is owned by Patti Starr, who puts on ScareFest every year.  They have a website as well as a physical location here in Lexington.

sf-04-ghost-hutner-shop

 

I poked around in the shop a little, but I had no haunting in my own home and had neither the time nor energy to hunt for them elsewhere, so I shoved off to the main floor.

Ah, the main floor.  What joys would I find there?  Would I find something to love immediately, or would I have to wait a while?

sf-05-beetlejioce-staypuft

 

I would find something immediately.  Just Betelgeuse and the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man hanging out together.  I tried to get up close enough to hear what they were talking about, but I’m not good at sneaking.  I also couldn’t stop singing, “Tale as old as tiiiiiiiime.”

I thought ol’ Puffy would be taller, but I had only seen him on TV.  All celebrities are shorter in person.  Apparently Stay Puft and Keifer Sutherland are the same size.

sf-06-large-zombie

 

I found out early that security would not back down from anyone.

sf-07-me-mm

I happened upon Michael Myers.  I don’t even think it was someone dressed as Myers: I believe that this was the real Michael Myers.  I followed him around for a while, observing his movements.  He never spoke a word.  He walked around the floor, looking around him.  I can only assume he was looking for a gaggle of babysitters.  While he was stalking them, I was stalking him.  Eventually I walked up to him.

Me: Can I get a picture with you?
MM: [Nods head]
Me: So, you just don’t talk then?
MM: [Shakes head]

Me: Halloween: Resurrection was really terrible, huh?
MM: [Nods head violently]

Me: You…uh…you going to kill anyone here?
MM: [Dead silence]
Me: Alright man.  I’ll catch up with you later.

I saw him after that from time to time.  Still walking the floor.  Still not talking.  Occasionally he would stop for pictures with people, but he never spoke a word.  I saw a woman walk up to him and ask, “Can I get a picture with you, sweet pea?”  It killed me that someone referred to Michael Myers as “sweet pea”.

My encounter with Michael Myers spooked me a little, but it didn’t last long.  I looked to my left and saw the table for the Western Kentucky Ghostbusters.  I tried to calmly walk over, but I’m pretty sure I ended up awkwardly jogging.

“Hey.  Are those proton packs?”
“Yes.  For $1 you can wear one and stand next to Vigo the Carpathian.”

“You mean Vigo the Butch?”
I giggled and threw some money in the pot, and was then armed with my very own proton pack.  As I waited for the people in front of me to finish with their pictures, I kept repeating to myself, “Bite your head off, man.  Bite your head off, man.”

It was finally my turn.  I walked up, powered on my proton pack and said, “Only a Carpathian would come back to life now and choose Lexington, KY,” then muttered a few lines about Carpathian Kitten Loss.

sf-08-me-vigo

 

I tried to look tough, but instead just came off as looking vaguely indifferent, and quite possibly like I’m a little sick.  I think I looked quite dashing in that proton pack.

I walked off and came across two very pale people pushing a stroller.  “Oh, lemme see the cute little baby.  Who’s the cute baby?  Is it you?”

sf-09-babies
GAAAAAAAAAH!

 

While I was still trying to rub the evil out of my eyes, I felt someone push me in the back.  Before I could execute a super-sweet roundhouse kick, he was past me.

sf-10-sean-astin

 

It was Sean Astin, traveling with a security guard.  “Gotta get back to my table.  Mr. Frodo needs me,” I heard him say softly to himself.
“I kind of thought you’d be talking about D-Bob.”
“What?”
“Nothing, Mr. Austin.  Go tell them about how you hope they won’t be able to get their balls out.  Give ‘em hell, sir.  Goonies never say ah he’s gone.”

A voice came over the speakers.  “Cary Elwes is back at his booth, so if you want his autograph, it’s as you wish.”  I cackled loudly.  I looked around for anyone to share my laugh with, but all I could find was this guy.

sf-11-me-zombie

 

He didn’t find it funny, but I doubt he really found anything funny.  The blood of the innocent, maybe?

I saw Dick Warlock – legendary stunt man, and Michael Myers in the stellar Halloween II – wandering around his booth while wearing a terrific jacket.

sf-12-dick-warlock

 

I thought about trying to steal it, but I figured he would snap my arm in 6 places without breaking a sweat.  I backed away slowly.

I swore to myself that I wasn’t going to pay money to meet any of the celebrities today.  Sure, there were people I loved, but I didn’t feel like waiting in line and spending a bunch of money just to have an awkward interaction with someone I’d never see again.

But then, as I was walking along the back, I spotted Caroline Williams, most famous for playing Vanita “Stretch” Brock from Texas Chainsaw Massacre II.  There she was, standing in her booth all alone.  I had no choice, really.  I had to say hi.

sf-13-me-caroline-williams

 

I walked up and chatted with her for a while.  She struck me as a genuinely sweet and caring woman.  I got my picture taken with her and walked off.  I’ve always been a fan of her work, and I’m an even bigger fan of her now.  I now have an autographed picture of Caroline hanging out with Tobe Hooper, Tom Savini and Nubbins hanging up in my home office.  It makes me smile every time I look at it.

I made new friends (who would gladly kill me at a moment’s notice).

sf-14-me-freddy-jason

 

sf-15-me-harry-warden

 

sf-16-me-predator

 

I found Salvatore blood.

sf-17-vampire-blood

 

How much do you think Salvatore blood goes for these days?  More than I thought it would.  Sure, it promises immortality, but there’s a decent change you’ll turn into some version of The Ripper.  Or, at the very least, have someone screaming, “FLIP YOUR HUMANITY SWITCH,” at you when you’re trying to go to sleep.  It’s my switch, buddy.  I’ll flip it when I want to.

I found the disembodied head of Bughuul.

sf-18-sinister-mask

 

I saw someone getting a picture with Nick King, the guy who played Bughuul.  “Do you want me to hold the mask?” he asked the person?  No.  I just want to take a picture with the guy who played Bughuul but have the mask nowhere in sight.  I’ll look back in a few months and think, “Who was this guy?”

I saw Universal Monsters rising from the ground…

sf-19-gill-man

 

sf-20-wolfman

 

…and others trying to end their miserable existence.

sf-21-hanging-frankensteins

 

It’s not your fault you have an abnormal brain, buddy.  I’m sure you still have something to live for.  What about that girl you’ve been talking about?  The one with the cool hair?  Maybe try giving her a call.  I think you can build a life together.

I stopped to take a picture of an odd spectacle, only to have a fella in a Jayne hat come up afterwards and basically demand money for taking the picture.

sf-22-jayne

 

Jayne don’t mess with mudders.

I spotted a stormtrooper and Sam, just hanging out

sf-23-sam-stormtrooper

 

I wanted to get in closer to hear what they were talking about, but Sam tightened his grip on his lollipop.  I quickly turned and walked in the opposite direction.  I put a Jack-o’-lantern outside my house on Halloween.  I have no quarrel with you.

When I turned the corner, I ran into this:

sf-24-mystery-machine

 

“Hey Scoob!  SCOOB!  Here’s a mystery for ya.  Why did 6 hate 7?  Huh?  Hahahahahahahaha!  Try running around robbing banks all wacked off of…hey…I was having a conversation here, officer.  About what?  Well, that’s between me and my friend here.  Where are you taking me?  What is…is that a chloroform rag?  You’re not a real cop, are you?  AIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!”

The rest of the day was a haze.  I’m pretty sure I saw Corey Feldman walking around with a scantily clad angel, but I could be mistaken.

sf-25-corey-feldman

 

For all I know, I’m still there, somewhere in the halls of ScareFest.  Maybe I’ll be there forever. I don’t mind.  There are worse ways to spend eternity.  I’ll see you all there next year.

 

Categories
Archives Brent R. Oliver Short Stories

Wrong House: A Short Story

Dave and Susan were making love when their home was invaded. They heard a kick that splintered the front door and then another that knocked it wide open. It smashed loudly against the wall.

Susan was on top and she looked down at Dave. “I think you should check that out.”

Dave pushed her off. “Probably. Stay here.” He stalked out of the room naked.

Two men in black ski masks met him in the hall. Both carried pistol grip shotguns and had Glocks riding their hips. It didn’t look like their first time.

The taller of the pair pressed the barrel of his shotgun into Dave’s bare chest. “Where you headed, tough guy?”

“I thought I heard a noise,” Dave said.

The shorter one laughed. “That’s pretty funny.”

“Yeah,” said his partner, and jabbed Dave with the barrel. “You’re hilarious. Why don’t you back your comedic ass up into that bedroom?”

Dave started to turn around but Tall Guy hit him in the face with the shotgun. “I said back up, shit head.”

Blood was running briskly out of Dave’s nose. Without wiping it away he walked backward toward the bedroom. The two men followed, shoulder to shoulder, filling the hallway, their weapons never wavering.

When Dave got to the doorway, Tall Guy hit him again, this time in the belly. Dave folded up and Tall Guy shoved him into the bedroom. He tumbled in on his back and Susan yelled “What the fuck?”

The shorter man followed Dave in. He stayed low and moved fast. In a moment, he was at the edge of the bed with his shotgun in Susan’s face. Tall Guy was covering him from the doorway.

“Don’t move, doll,” Shorty said.

Dave got to his feet. “You stay right there,” Tall Guy told him.

Shorty backed into a corner where he could cover both Dave and Susan. “I’m good,” he said.

“Excellent,” Tall Guy said. “Let’s do this.”

“OK,” Shorty said, and twitched the shotgun at Susan. “Let’s have you get up slowly and head over there beside your man.”

Susan got out of bed naked and walked to Dave’s side. “You OK, babe?”

He smiled through the blood. “I am.”

“Why don’t you put some clothes on, pal?” Shorty said. “I’m tired of looking at your dick.”

Dave pulled on a pair of sweats that were draped at the foot of the bed. Susan reached for the t-shirt she’d tossed on the floor earlier.

“Nope,” Shorty said. “Just him, doll.”

Susan turned to face him. Sweat from their love-making still gleamed on her tits. “Really? Jesus Christ.” She didn’t move to cover herself with her arms, just glared at him.

“Let’s go,” Tall Guy said. He moved out into the hall, his gun steady on them.

“Follow him,” Shorty told them. “Very slowly. He’ll be in front of you the whole way. I’ll be behind you. You’re locked between us and any movements we find overly interesting will get you fucking shot. Understand?”

“Not entirely,” Dave said. “If he’s in front and you’re behind us, won’t you hit each other if you have to shoot?

“Holy fucking shit,” Tall Guy said. “Are you still being funny?”

“It’s more logistics than comedy.”

Shorty took a quick step toward them and laid his shotgun barrel against Susan’s ear. “You have two choices. Shut the fuck up and she lives. Keep yammering and she dies. Pick.”

Dave eyed Susan. “Let’s keep her around.”

“Then shut your yap and move.”

The four of them went down the hallway, Dave and Susan walking between the invaders. They were herded into the kitchen. Tall Guy gestured at the table in the middle of the room. “Sit down.”

Dave and Susan pulled out chairs and sat.

Shorty drifted to a corner again. His shotgun remained threatening. “Make them comfortable.”

Tall Guy unzipped a black duffel bag that was lying on the floor. He pulled out a handful of stuff and went to work.

Dave’s ankles were individually zip-tied to the legs of the chair. His wrists were fixed to the arms the same way. Tall Guy did the same thing to Susan then he showed them a roll of silver duct tape. “I can do your mouths but that’s dangerous. You could suffocate. But you seem like reasonable folks. If you promise to keep quiet we don’t have to worry about this.”

“We’ll be quiet,” Susan said.

Tall Guy looked at her tits. “You say that now. We’ll see.”

Shorty had relaxed. He leaned against the wall, the shotgun loose. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. Get to work.”

Tall Guy picked up the duffel bag and disappeared into the house.

Susan looked at Shorty. “So. After you guys get done I’m sure you’re just going to let us go, huh?”

“If you cooperate.”

She shook her hair out of her face and her breasts jiggled. “You don’t have any other plans?”

Shorty slid off the wall and stepped up to her chair. He let the muzzle of the shotgun hit the seat between her legs then he shoved it forward till it was snugged against her labia. His free hand plucked her right nipple until it stiffened. “Oh, I have plans. That’s why we brought the duct tape. You look like a biter, not a screamer.”

Dave laughed. “Indeed.”

Shorty looked at him. “You don’t seem particularly concerned here, friend.” He put the shotgun on the table and walked behind Susan’s chair. He leaned over her and cradled a breast in each palm. He slowly circled her nipples with his thumbs. “I’d be concerned if I were you.” He put his nose in Susan’s hair at the nape of her neck and took a deep breath. “I’d be all kinds of concerned.”

Dave was wearing a smile under his bloody nose. “I am a little concerned. For you, little guy.”

Susan jerked her head around and snapped her teeth at Shorty’s face. He recoiled just in time. “Goddammit!” he yelled, and snatched the shotgun off the table. He reversed it and slammed the butt into the side of Susan’s head.

She didn’t move an inch. Didn’t even appear to have noticed he’d hit her. She wiggled her tits at him. “Come on back, baby. Come back one more time.”

Shorty backed across the kitchen, the shotgun trained on her. Dave laughed.

Tall Guy popped up in doorway and said “What the hell’s going on in here?”

Shorty jumped. “Nothing’s going on. What have we got?”

Tall Guy tossed the duffel on the floor. It made a heavy thud. “Jewelry. Cash. A few antique-looking things. Couple laptops.  It’s getting a little loud in here. Do we need the tape?”

Susan smiled. “You might need it for your buddy, there. Tape his fingers to that shotgun. When he puts it down he tends to stick his hands where they don’t belong.”

“Is that right?” Tall Guy looked at Shorty. “I told you no flirting till we’re done.”

“Fine,” Shorty said. “I’ll finish up. You keep an eye on these assholes.”
“Both eyes,” Tall Guy said, and put them on Susan’s tits. She smiled at him.

When Shorty was gone Tall Guy smiled back at Susan. “Did you scare my pal? He seemed a bit jumpy.”

“I wasn’t trying to scare him,” Susan said. “I thought he wanted to play.”

“We don’t normally play with folks, you know. We get in, get the stuff, get out. Clean and simple. But you, doll.” He shook his head. “Whew. You are a piece. And you being already naked when we arrived…I dunno. It just seems like fate.”

“You can’t argue with fate,” Susan said, and stood up. The chair came apart around her, pieces of it still zip-tied to her.

Tall Guy snapped his shotgun up but she was already there. She yanked it away from him with one hand and slammed him against the wall with the other, her palm over his mouth. He made muffled grunts, eyes wide.

“Now I’m going to play with you,” she whispered. “And my man over there is going to play with your little partner.”

“Tie him to a chair,” Dave said.

“Good call.”  Susan, her hand still clamped over Tall Guy’s mouth, maneuvered him into one of the other chairs. “If I take my hand away, are you going to yell?”

Tall Guy’s eyes were still bulging. He nodded. Then he shook his head.

Susan laughed. “Which is it, dummy?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head no. “Excellent,” Susan said and removed her hand.

“What the fuck?” he whispered. “What the fuck is happening?”

Susan fished through the duffel bag and pulled out more zip ties. She trussed him up exactly the way he’d done them. “There you go, doll,” she said. “All snug and tight.”

Dave looked at his new companion and grinned. “Nice work.”

“What the fuck?” Tall Guy said. He was shaking. “How did she do that?”

“Be quiet,” Dave told him. “I hear your buddy coming back.”

Susan slipped into the far corner of the room and went still. When Shorty walked in he said “I can’t find anything else. I think you got it all.” He stopped when he saw Tall Guy sitting next to Dave. “What are doing over there?”

Tall Guy flicked his eyes toward the corner where Susan waited but Shorty didn’t get it. “Seriously. What the fuck are you doing?”

Dave jumped up. His chair exploded and showered Tall Guy with splinters. Shorty was faster than his partner. He almost got the barrel of the shotgun into Dave’s chest but Dave sidestepped him and wrenched it free.

Shorty backpedaled and slapped for the Glock on his hip. Dave smacked him in the face and he went down. Shorty tried to crawl away but Dave scooped him up and tossed him onto the kitchen floor next to Tall Guy.

“We’re running out of chairs,” Susan said from her corner.

“That’s alright,” Dave said. “We’re about to run out of bad guys.”

Susan picked Shorty up from the floor and cradled him in her arms. “I want this one.”

Dave smiled. “Of course you do.” He watched Shorty struggle like a kitten trying to escape a toddler.

Susan said “Shhh” and patted him on the head. Her mouth grew jagged shark’s teeth and gaped open wide. She nuzzled the side of his neck and then bit deep into it.

Tall Guy didn’t notice his bladder let go but he did notice Dave suddenly standing beside him. Dave’s mouth had gone all huge and sharklike, too. “Hi, there,” he said.