Scared Stiff
Lincoln Velazquest loved horror movies. Slasher movies, psychological movies, haunted house movies, zombie movies, you name it, he dug it. If you asked him to explain why he liked horror, he wouldn't be able to say anything beyond, "It's interesting." Zombies, vampires, masked killers, and end of the world scenarios were all interesting. Horror made him think, it made him feel, and...well...he just plain liked it. Sometimes we can't fully account for our reasonings and motivations. Sometimes we can only speak and think in generalities. Why did Dad like wrestling? Why do you like anime and fanfiction? Why does anyone like anything? He supposed if he delved deep enough he could come up with some pretentious psychological reason for why he was inclined toward horror, but, eh, he wasn't into psychoanalyzing himself or anyone else. He was a horrorhead and that was that.
The first horror movie Lincoln could remember watching was The Lost Boys. If you've never heard of it (and I'm sure a lot of you haven't, or have but aren't familiar with it), it follows two teenage brothers who move to a town in California and becoming involved with a group of gloriously eighties vampires with perms and a glam metal fashion sense. It was freaking awesome. Next was the original Pet Sematary. Uh...he didn't like talking about that movie. He could watch it just fine now, but when he was little, it straight-up traumatized him. But, Linc, 'traumatized' is such a strong word.'
I know.
That's why I used it.
In Pet Sematary, a guy buries his two year old son - who's run down by a Mac truck - in an Indian burial ground and he comes back to life. Because it's a horror movie, he wasn't like "Sup, Dad, wanna play catch?" He's all "I played with Mommy now I wanna play with yooooooooou." And by 'play' he meant 'brutally murdered with a scalpel." There's this bit where little Gage - that's the kid's name - crawls out from under a bed and kills the old man across the street, then freaking eats his throat, and another one where he jumps out of the attic onto his father's head like a spider on steroids. Lincoln was so messed up over that movie that for years, he hated walking beneath the attic door in his own house, and checked under his bed every night for a small, white face. What would he do if he ever found it? What would he do if Gage was down there, waiting…?
He didn't know, but thank God he never had to find out.
From Pet Sematary, he moved onto more light-hearted fare, like Friday the 13th and A Nightmare on Elm Street. He flipping loved Freddy, the wisecracking, burned-faced, Christmas sweater wearing dream demon from the Nightmare movies. He went as Freddy for Halloween twice, and used to dress up in his costume and hold NOES movie marathons, cheering Freddy on as he killed innocent teenagers.
That boy ain't right, Dad said and shook his head.
Because he was her baby, Mom stuck up for him. Oh, hush. You watch wrestling dressed like Randy Savage.
Randy Savage never killed anyone.
No, but that Jimmy Snuka did.
Dad would never have a response to that.
Lincoln had occasional flashes of clarity where he'd realize Wow, I'm basically watching innocent people die, I'm a terrible person...then someone would get blown away with a harpoon and he'd pop like Dad at Wrestlemania.
His grandma Ester, a little old black woman with sunken lips and big glasses, was very religious and said horror movies were evil. His grandma Margaret, Mom's mom, was not particularly god fearing, but she didn't horror either. One time, she caught him laughing at the lawn mower scene in Dead Alive and called him a ghoul.
Well...maybe a little.
By the time Lincoln was eight, he had seen most of the mainstream classics. The Thing, Halloween, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Night of the Living Dead, Zombie, Final Destination, 28 Days Later, and Sirenhead on Ice: Electric Wee Woo. He set out to find more obscure stuff, and lucked into a goldmine on YouTube: Horror movies out the ying-yang. Really, YouTube was thick with scary movies. Videos would be taken down as (presumably) copyright claims were filed, but someone else always seemed to upload it again eventually. Every night, Lincoln would curl up in bed and watch at least one scary movie on his phone. He kept track of them all, and so far, he'd seen almost 600, not counting stuff he cut his teeth on. In the almost four years he'd been doing this, he'd learned a few things.
1. Italian horror movies are awesome. No exceptions.
2. John Saxon is the man. Runners up include Tom Atkins and Chuck Connors.
3. Made-for-TV movies from the seventies and eighties were epic and the format really needed to make a comeback.
4. Most bad movies are good if you pick them apart and laugh at them.
5. Slasher movies all have at least one bare breast in them.
There were more, but you get the drift. Lincoln's favorite movie so far was called Virus. In it, a souped up flu kills off everyone but a tiny group of people who try to rebuild civilization in Antarctica, where the flu couldn't survive owing to the cold. The House at the Edge of the Park was another crowd pleaser. And Tourist Trap. And Hard Rock Zombies. And The Midnight Hour. And a million others. God, there were so many great movies that he couldn't even name them all, and just when he thought he'd seen everything, he'd stumble across a hidden gem and get his world rocked all over again.
Johnny wasn't born with an innate love of the morbid like Lincoln was, but after years of being around it, he had developed a respectable taste for horror. They often watched movies together and did a running commentary making fun of what was happening on screen. And honestly, there was usually a lot to pick on. Low budget horror movies were full of bad dialogue, wooden acting, and laughable make-up jobs. Some of the funniest movies Lincoln had ever seen were horror movies that didn't try to be funny. It might be lame to say this, but Lincoln enjoyed hanging out with his brother on their movie nights. They had fun, ate popcorn, chugged sodas, and, you know, bonded. Johnny got on his nerves sometimes, but he was actually a pretty cool dude when he wanted to be.
As much as Johnny liked horror, he wasn't a hardcore mark for it like Lincoln. Lincoln was a total fanboy. After watching a movie, he'd go to IMDb and read its trivia page, then go to the forums and read people's posts. It was part of his ritual, and doing it filled his head with facts, data, and strong opinions on every film he watched. He couldn't talk to Johnny about all these things because Johnny was a strictly "watch it and move on" kind of guy. Lincoln immersed himself in the culture of each movie and could talk about them for hours. Unfortunately for him, he didn't have anyone to talk about them with.
Then, one day, he was at the Loud house helping Lana fix the toilet, and he walked past Lucy's room. He caught a flash of something familiar from the corner of his eye and turned to see Lucy sitting on her bed with a book. Carrie, the cover read, by Stephen King.
Lincoln's main source of horror was movies, but he'd read a little bit too. "Cool, you like Stephen King?" he asked.
"He's alright," Lucy said, "this is my first time reading him."
In that moment, it all became clear to him, and he kicked himself in the butt for not realizing it sooner.
Lucy.
Lucy liked horror too. Granted, she was mainly into that Twilight trash, but hey, that's a foot in the door, right? He could build on that and turn her into a huge horror mark just like him, then he'd have someone to discuss his favorite movies with. They would have rousing debates on such topics as Captain Rhodes being presented as an authoritarian dictator when in actuality he was a weak pushover. Boy, that sounded like a blast.
"Yeah, Stephen King's really cool," Lincoln said. "So's horror in general. If you want, I can recommend a few movies."
"Sure," Lucy said. "I like horror movies."
Did she, though? Did she really? Lucy struck him as a mainstream fair weather fan, the kind who likes the boring, sanitized horror pushed by Hollywood. She was majorly into that Vampires and Melancholia trash, where all the bloodsuckers are handsome and involved in high school level drama. Oh, Daminian has a crush on Elena but Elena likes Klaus. Bum bum BUM. Could she handle the real stuff?
Only one way to find out.
One afternoon in mid-June, Lincoln shot Lucy a text inviting her over for a Friday night movie marathon. It will be sick. We will eat popcorn and drink Pepsi until we burst. We will also watch real horror movies.
She accepted. An hour later, she texted again to say that her dad didn't like the idea of her staying at Lincoln and Johnny's house for the night. Dude, why? Afraid she's gonna see some awesome movies? What the heck?
Because Johnny was tight with Mr. Loud (they called themselves BCFFs, which stood for best cooking friends forever), Lincoln sent him to change the old man's mind. After three hours, he came back looking drained. "Well?" Lincoln asked hopefully.
"He said okay," Johnny said and dropped onto the couch, "but it took a lot of convincing."
Lincoln furrowed his brows. "Why though?"
All Johnny could do is shrug. "Beats me. He said I'm not entirely comfortable letting my daughter stay the night with two boys, so she has to be home by midnight or I will come after her."
Uh...okay?
Adults trip sometimes, so whatever. The important thing was: He could expose Lucy to good horror and begin shaping her into a based fan. Friday afternoon, the last day of school, Lincoln walked home with Maggie, their fingers woven together. "I wish you could come too," he said.
"So do I," she sighed, "but my parents will freak."
Grown ups back at it again with the mysterious sperging. Sheesh.
At the bottom of the walkway leading up to Lincoln's house, he pushed up on his tippy toes and kissed Maggie chastely on the cheek. The corners of her lips turned up in a faint, happy smile and she kissed him on the chin.
A voice called out, startling them. "Oooo la-la!"
Luan Loud spun around, facing away from them, and hugged herself tightly. "Oh, Maggie! Oh, Lincoln!"
Maggie rolled her eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Alright," Lincoln said. He squeezed her hand. "Bye."
She bit her bottom lip and pulled reluctantly away. "Bye," she said.
Lincoln watched her go and nodded appreciatively to himself. He wouldn't say this out loud, even to Johnny, for fear of sounding like a perv, but she had a nice butt. He really wanted to pat it.
Anyway, he had bigger fish to fry than touching his girlfriend's butt. Tonight, he would begin transforming Lucy into a horror buddy with whom he could talk, discuss, and share inside jokes. Inside, he sat on his bed, pulled out his laptop, and opened a document titled FAVORITE HORROR MOVIES.
What should they watch?
Shivers, Bloodsucking Freaks, I Spit on Your Grave, and To All a Good Night were instantly disqualified for having, ahem, adult themes. Dead Alive was waaay too bloody, as was just about every Italian movie ever made.
Night of the Living Dead! A classic! It had very little blood and only one bare butt. It was the perfect introductory movie for a budding horror fan.
That night, Lincoln and Johnny banished Mom and Dad to their room and ordered a pizza. Lucy got there around eight and they pounded slices of pepperoni 'za as the movie started. Lincoln cut all the lights, and the only illumination was the eerie black and white glow emanating from the TV screen. Lucy sat between Lincoln and Johnny with a pillow in her lap and an indifferent expression on her face. "This is a boomer movie," she stated.
"Yeah," Lincoln said, "so?"
"Boomer movies aren't scary."
Lincoln laughed, and Johnny joined him, throwing his head back and kicking his legs. Lucy looked at them from behind her bangs, and no stare had ever been colder. Lincoln laughed even harder at her tiny frown of confusion, and Johnny whipped his head from side to side, his bag falling off and fluttering to the floor. "Oh, Luce," Lincoln said and brushed an imaginary tear from his eye, "you have so much to learn."
"Black and white movies aren't scary," she said defensively. "I've seen Dracula and Frankenstien. They were dumb."
Oh, boy, she was really green. "This isn't' Dracula," Lincoln said.
"Yeah," Johnny echoed, "it's Night of the Living Dead. Night of the Living Dead is pure, high octane nightmare fuel."
Lucy favored him with a blank stare, said "Sigh" and turned back to the television.
On screen, a car pulled into a cemetery and a man and woman got out. "They're coming to get you, Barbara," the man intoned in a creepy voice.
"Johnny, knock it off," Barbara said.
"Sorry," Johnny V said.
"Not you, doofus," Lincoln spat.
Lucy snorted.
Before long, a man in a dusty burial suit lumbered into view and grabbed Barabra. Johnny came to her aid, but the man managed to slam his head against a tombstone, killing him. Barabra ran and wound up in an empty farmhouse. Other men in similar suits stumbled toward it. Upstairs, she found a dead body with a grinning, fleshless face, and ran away. Lincoln glanced at Lucy and frowned. She hugged the pillow to her chest and trembled like a leaf. Her face was whiter than usual and her teeth lightly chattered as though she were cold. Lincoln raised his eyebrow. "You okay, Luce?"
Lucy jumped a foot. "Yeah, I-I'm fine. Just really...invested in the movie."
Uh...okay.
Barbara stumbled outside and a pair of headlights washed over her. A black dude appeared with a tire iron and rushed her inside, zombies hot on their tail. "A strong black man saves the day," Johnny said proudly.
"Then he punches her in the face," Lincoln pointed out, just to mess with him.
"She was tripping."
"He didn't have to use a closed hand, though," Lincoln said. "She's a woman."
Johnny waved him off.
The black man - Ben - lef Barbara alone in the house to take care of the zombies outside, and a ghoul came out of the shadows behind her.
Lucy screamed.
"You alright?" Lincoln asked.
That was a dumb question. She hugged the pillow as tight as she could and buried her face in it to drown out the movie. "Dude, I think she's scared," Johnny said. "Turn it off."
Lincoln hit PAUSE and he and Johnny knelt worriedly on either side of Lucy. Lincoln put a comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "You alright, Luce?"
For a moment, the only sound was the clack of Lucy's teeth. "N-No, I-I-I'm fine."
"You don't look fine," Lincoln said.
"Yeah," Johnny agreed, "you look petrified."
"Stone cold scared," Lincoln said.
"Like you're about to pee yourself."
"I think Barbara's less scared than Lucy."
Lucy hugged the pillow tighter. "I'm not scared, okay?"
Assuming a serious expression, Johnny patted her shoulder. "It's okay to be scared, Luce."
That was the wrong thing to say. Throwing the pillow across the room, Lucy tilted her head back and roared "I am not scared!" The uncharacteristic animation in her voice caught Lincoln and Johnny both off guard. She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Lincoln and Johnny shared a concerned glance, and Lincoln sighed. She could deny it all she wanted, but she was scared alright...and it was his fault. In his desire for a horror buddy, he completely lost sight of the fact that Lucy was an eight year old girl whose only exposure to the genre was PG rated High School Musical level stuff.
Why did he pick Night of the Living Dead? Of all the movies he could have chosen, he picked that. Instead of easing her into things the way you ease yourself into cold water, he body-slammed her into it like his name was The Ultimate Warrior.
What a fool.
"Look, Luce," he said soberly, "it's okay to be scared. There are horror movies that scare me. Like Pet Sematary."
Johnny's eyes widened with terror. "Dude, shut up, don't talk about that movie."
"The point is, you don't have to be ashamed of being afraid," Lincoln continued.
"Even I get scared," Johnny said.
The little girl looked up at Johnny, and even though Lincoln could not see her eyes, he could feel her childlike disbelief. To her, Johnny was strong, brave, and adult, even though, in actuality, he was a weak little chicken boi. Lucy and her younger sisters made no secret of their crushes on Johnny and Lincoln surmised that they had built an idealized image of him in their head, an image that was never afraid. "Really?" she asked.
"Really," he assured her. "And when I get scared of a movie, I make fun of it. Clowning on something scary robs it of its power."
"It does?" she asked.
"Sure," Lincoln said, "watch."
He unpaused the movie, and the zombie lurched at Barbara with one arm outstretched. Deepening his voice, Johnny moaned, and when Barabra turned to face the creature, he said, "Excuse me, ma'am, which way is the restroom?"
Lucy giggled and Lincoln rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure he lives there, he knows where the bathroom is."
Getting up, Johnny stuck one foot out, let his tongue loll, and stumbled around. "I'm a scary zombie," he intoned, "I'm coming to get you, Lincoln."
Soon, Ben decided to board up the doors and windows to keep the zombies out. Barabra had a meltdown and Ben slugged her in the face. "BOOM, HEADSHOT!" Johnny yelled.
"Now he's stealing her purse," Lincoln said.
"Bro!" Johnny cried. "That's racist!"
"Dude, I'm black too."
"Not black enough to be talking like that, white boy."
Lucy snuggled up to Johnny, and he went stiff with surprise, not sure what to do. A moment passed, and he relaxed, putting an arm around her shoulders.
Eventually, a group of people who had been hiding in the basement came out. "My man Harry Cooper," Johnny said. "He's the only one with a clue."
"Is that why he dies in the end?" Lincoln asked.
"He wouldn't have died if Ben didn't shoot him," Johnny pointed out.
"Ben wouldn't have shot him if he wasn't being a jerk."
Johnny sighed in exasperation. "Who survived the longest?"
"What does that matter?"
"Who did it?"
Lincoln smiled smugly. "Ben."
"Yeah, and how'd he do it."
Lincoln got really quiet.
In NOTLD, Harry Cooper - one of the biggest jerks in cinematic history - favored hiding in the basement until someone came along to rescue them. Ben didn't. He said the basement was a "death trap." It has no back exit, we'll be done for. In the end, the zombies break in and Ben manages to survive...by hiding in the basement, proving that toad Cooper right.
"That's what I thought," Johnny said.
Later on, when a zombie was eating a human body part, Lincoln sat forward and pointed at the screen like Leonardo Decaprio in that meme. "That's ham with chocolate sauce on it."
Lucy gagged. "Really?"
"Yeah," Lincoln said, "they put Bosco chocolate sauce on the ham because it looked like blood on film."
"Can you imagine eating that?" Johnny asked with a distasteful grimace. "I'd rather eat a real person."
Still later, Ben and Harry fought over a rifle, with Ben getting the upper hand. Ben methodically cocked it and shot Harry in the side. Lincoln cheered. "Where's your basement now?"
"Dude," Johnny snapped, "a man was just killed. Show some respect."
After surviving the night of the living dead, Ben emerges from the house to be promptly shot by a group of trigger happy rednecks. "Should have stayed in the basement," Johnny said. "It's safer there."
Lincoln laughed. "You know, this was pretty -"
He looked over, and cuddled up to Johnny, Lucy was fast asleep, a look of peace and tranquility on her face. "Fun," Lincoln said, lowering his voice. "We oughta do it again sometime."
"And how," Johnny concurred.