You better not pout, you better not cry, I’m telling you why…Krampus will drag you to hell in his basket and eat you.
I just discovered this lovely legend from the Alpine regions of Europe. Krampus is the enforcement side of the St. Nicholas story. Coal in your stocking? No presents? Kids don’t believe those threats. Try telling them that a demonic figure with horns and a long red tongue will beat them with switches or chains, or even take them to hell never to be seen again.
In Europe, St. Nicholas comes on the eve of December 6th, not Christmas Eve. But just as Santa Claus made the leap over the Atlantic Ocean and changed his schedule, I think we should invite Krampus to do the same. Our Christmas is so nice, so sugary sweet, so boring. It needs a little horror to make it interesting. Can you imagine if every mall Santa had a Krampus nearby? If the Macy’s parade featured a devil coming behind Santa Claus and threatening children with physical harm? Now that’s something that would make every child as nice as possible.
In fact, Krampus has his own parades all over Europe, and it seems he is gaining some traction in the U.S. Sometimes there are hundreds of Krampuses in these parades. Yes, what Christmas in America needs is fear.
It is early morning on Thanksgiving 2011. All over America people are traveling to see their loved ones and preparing to stuff their faces with turkey and all the fixins. This holiday is all about family, love and happiness. But I have always felt it was incomplete. What Thanksgiving really needs is a horror movie with a killer turkey that can’t be stopped.
Fortunately THANKSKILLING steps up to the plate. Plate, get it? It is actually, by most standards, a really bad movie. It was made for $3,500 and the actors seem to have been chosen for their inability to act. It doesn’t make much sense and the special effects are ridiculous. But dude, it’s about a killer turkey. The hand puppet of the turkey looks good and the voice is suitably evil.
I saw it on Netflix streaming, and a DVD is also available. You can find out more at thankskillingmovie.com. An effort is underway to raise money for a sequel with a higher budget and even higher ambitions, to make a comedy horror classic on the level of Evil Dead. They have a long way to go, but if they do make the sequel, you will hear about it here.
Horror author Red Tash is offering a Kindle 3G + wifi as a prize in his Trick or Treat Bash! Visit his blog at http://redtash.com/bash to check it out! Second and third prizes are Amazon gift cards. PLUS – a long list of Kindle horror authors will give a free book to the winner. This includes my own Halloween Sky and Other Nightmares.
All you have to do is comment on Red’s blog and visit the blogs of the other fine authors!
This is my first try at doing a #SampleSunday on Twitter. This is the prologue of “Mama.”
Paul Hilch’s Mazda minivan pulled a little ahead of the Winnebago. On the hill, the weight of the big vehicle held it back. It was a very slender lead. Paul knew it wouldn’t last long. He also knew he was going to die. The woman and her children were monsters. Worse, they didn’t exist, according to the sheriff he talked to in the last town. Get some rest, the sheriff said. Don’t drive such long hours.
Papers flew around the cabin of the minivan. His briefcase was open, letting its contents loose. A sales chart hit Paul in the face. He swatted it away.
The minivan crested the top of the hill. Paul saw his death in the down slope. He looked desperately for any hope. At midday the brutal sun blasted the desert landscape. There were no other cars. The only witnesses were cactus.
Another paper hit Paul in the face. He pulled it away. It wasn’t a sales chart, or any other business paper. It was the picture Jimmy gave him just before he left L.A.
Daddy and Mommy and Jimmy, in the five year old’s wavering crayon line, stood together on a boat. Maybe Jimmy was thinking of the boat ride they took to Catalina a few months ago.
The Winnebago crashed into the back of the minivan.
There had to be a way out. A truck driver would come to the rescue. A sheriff would pull the RV over and arrest the hideous woman. He would wake up in a hospital and someone in authority would give him a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything.
Paul heard a giggle. He turned his head and saw the baby. The fat, naked, horrible baby sat in his passenger seat. He jerked his head to scan the back seat, horrified that the woman was also in his car. Nothing there. He looked at the passenger seat again. The baby was as repulsive as ever.
The front wheels went off the road. Paul lost control. The back wheels spun on the soft shoulder. The minivan fishtailed as the dust and gravel failed to give the wheels any friction. The Mazda went off the edge of the road and fell on its side, creating a cloud of dust. It slid through sand and rocks for about ten yards, hitting a group of Joshua trees.
The Winnebago slammed into the back of the Mazda at high speed, crushing it like an empty soda can.