Date: June 12, 1991
Age: 14
Greetings from the home of the crypt keeper. The bones from 4000 monks are displayed here and in other rooms. Spooky.
Love, Dad
Love, Dad
In junior high, I was a fan of anything ghoulish. I read Stephen King and books on Jack the Ripper. (I also lent my friend these books, and when her father found out, gave me a talking to.) I read horror movie magazines like Fangoria. I bought Halloween makeup kits and made fake wounds on my arm--something usually crawling with maggots and on its way to gangrene nation. I'd wrap my arm in an ace bandage, go to school, and when someone asked me what happened, I'd unwrap the bandage and show them. I was a dork.
And of course I watched horror movies--and many of them I watched with my dad. It was a tradition that was probably second only to the postcard collection. It started with Nightmare on Elm Street movies, but progressed to anything slasher that was in the theaters. We saw a lot of bad movies, but some decent ones as well. (All I can remember off the top of my head, aside from Freddy Krueger flicks, was Pet Sematary.) And we watched that HBO spookfest, Tales From the Crypt.
I guess it was a weird father-daughter bonding ritual, but hey, at least we had something.
And of course I watched horror movies--and many of them I watched with my dad. It was a tradition that was probably second only to the postcard collection. It started with Nightmare on Elm Street movies, but progressed to anything slasher that was in the theaters. We saw a lot of bad movies, but some decent ones as well. (All I can remember off the top of my head, aside from Freddy Krueger flicks, was Pet Sematary.) And we watched that HBO spookfest, Tales From the Crypt.
I guess it was a weird father-daughter bonding ritual, but hey, at least we had something.
Posts
0 comments:
Post a Comment