Editor's Note: While Iloz Zoc is in the 8th Dimension trying to rescue Zombos, Pretorious, the mansion's groundskeeper, was stuck in another bad situation. Zimba coerced him into seeing Monster House with Zombos Junior while she enjoyed alone time with The Devil Wears Prada. After much persuasion, here-to-with is Pretorious' review of his experience. I hope that we hear from Iloz Zoc soon, especially now that I have read Pretorious' review.
How Zimba ever got me into this situation I'll never know. If that fool Zombos were around, I'd not be stuck doing his duty as a father. And now that annoying editor wants a movie review from me because that other fool Iloz Zoc is missing. I am a groundskeeper, dammit, not a movie critic. The last movie I went to see was The Constant Gardener, and that had absolutely nothing to do with gardening; stupid title for a movie that has nothing to do with gardening, I mean really. If I am to now be required to write movie reviews, then I insist this blog be called Pretorious' Garden of Horror Blog. I mean really — what the hell does Zombos' Closet of Horror mean? Who has a closet of horror? At least Garden of Horror has a nice ring to it, and the implications are clear enough, even for a simpleton like Iloz Zoc. Lots of horrible gardens out there...
Editor's Note: Pretorious rambled on a bit here, so I edited his remaining diatribe on Zombos, Iloz Zoc, Zimba, Zombos Junior, life, the universe, and his station in life within it. The actual review now follows with another but more informative diatribe on the film itself. At least I hope it is.
...and how the hell is one supposed to remember a film if he can't take notes? I'm not Iloz Zoc; I don't carry assorted pen lights and pocket lights to blind the patrons around me, and I can't pretend to understand what the damn movie is about by scribbling incoherent notes in a notebook. And what's this 3-D tom foolery all about? Gimmicks, always gimmicks to bump up the price of a theatre ticket and cover for lackluster entertainment. How can I possibly take notes, even if I wanted to, when I have to wear glasses to see the bloody notebook and glasses to see the bloody movie at the same time? Damn children made fun of me and called me six-eyes, with their parents giggling them on. Idiots. It was too dark to take notes anyway, so the moron of an editor will just have to kiss my grassy green...
Article comments
1 - bh
heyy your cuttee<3
no jking i jsut wanna let u know that i am going to see your moviee tonight and i am so excited!!!