"How long has he been like this?" I asked.
"For the past half-hour," Glenor Glenda said.
"You should have called me sooner. How could you be so careless!" I felt Zombos' faint pulse.
"He said he wanted to watch something different," Glenor said. "I didn't know."
"How can you not know?" I held up the offending DVD, Santa Claws, from Shock-O-Rama Cinema, while admonishing her.
"Paul Hollstenwall said Zombos asked for it specifically—"
"Paul! So he's the one to blame for this. The last time he was here he wasted our time with Neon Maniacs. I can't believe he'd stooped this low. The man is incorrigible; a menace to decent horror fans everywhere."
"I told Paul he shouldn't. I told him he should have gone to you first," Glenor said with tears in her eyes. "But Zombos said it didn't matter, that he wanted something new, something totally different to watch. He said he was too old to play it safe anymore. He's been that way ever since his birthday."
"Well, the damage is done. I hope you've learned your lesson," I said, lifting a brandy snifter to Zombos' lips. The color was gone from his cheeks. "At least with Paul Naschy films I have a chance, but this? I'm not sure how to bring him back to sanity." Zombos was grayer than usual, and his breathing was short and shallow.
"What was that?" I asked. I leaned closer. Zombos' lips had moved, and a faint whisper caught my ear. "Say again?"
"Nudie cutie," he managed to whisper. "I just...wanted...to see...nudie cuties. My god, it was beyond horrible." He took the brandy snifter from me and held it in his trembling hands.
"Nudie cu—" Glenor began.
"That will be all, Glenor," I said, interrupting her. "I can take it from here. Thanks!" She left the room. Zombos slowly recovered in between sips of brandy.
Nudie cuties, scream queens, bodacious tatas — none of that can save Santa Claws. It is a film not to see alone or sober. It stands as the perfect DVD equivalent of bituminous coal — perfect punishment for any horror fan on your Bad Horror Fan Christmas List. Sleazy synthesized background music, tedious dialog sessions filled with ear-numbing verbiage delivered by cereal box acting, and visually uninspired — Huh!? — storytelling all bump and grind together, along with the T and A showcase of skin, in this broken shoestring-budgeted film.
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Article comments
1 - El Bicho
Entertaining as always. When are you going to collect these into a book? I'm certain you could find a publisher. Do you wear a mask?
2 - Iloz Zoc
Thanks! I've been thinking of trying a printed format. I will have to start working on it. I need to think of what other goodies I can put into the book, too.
I love Lucha Libre. I just can't decide on the style of mask I'd wear. El Zombos is catchy, but El Zoc has more oomph. Tough choices here.