HORROR AND HUMOR: STORYTELLING BLOOD BROTHERS

 

Have you ever noticed that a blood-curdling scream and a raucous belly laugh have much in common? 

BLOOD-CURDLING LAUGH

BELLY LAUGH

They both are automatic responses—you couldn't stop them if you tried. They come after either an unexpected fright, in the case of the blood-curdling scream, or an unexpected joke, or pratfall, in the case of the raucous belly laugh. This is also true for a quick intake of breath after a slight scare and a chuckle after a witty jab. I don't know if horror and humor are controlled by the same area of the brain, but if not, their separate areas must be, at the very least, good neighbors. 

This is why mixing horror with humor is a good bet for creating something entertaining. And why I took on the challenge in my novel, Creature Feature: A Horrid Comedy. 

EBOOK AND PRINT BOOK—TAKE YOUR PICK

It takes place in the 1960s when Kathy Anderson, an Actors Studio trained thespian of earnest intent, is stuck in Chicago playing Vivacia the Vampire Woman, hostess of a local late-night TV creature feature movie show. Disgusted with being a sex object for geeks and nerds, she quits the show to head for Broadway and a brilliant theatrical career. She stops off on the way to see her folks in Placidville, the small town she grew up in. But her parents seem a little, shall we say, off. As do the neighbors. And her best friend from high school, Mary. And especially Mary's brother, Gerald, the geekiest nerd (or nerdiest geek, if you prefer) in town. He tries to warn her of dire, dark, and dastardly doings, but Kathy just won’t listen. 

As my novel spoofs old monster movies, I looked to precedents such as Abbott and Costello Meets Frankenstein, 

Roger Corman's The Raven starring Vincent Price, Boris Karloff, and Peter Lorre parodying some of their past efforts, 

and, of course, Mel Brooks's Young Frankenstein. 

All films near and dear to my funny bone. I took particular note of why they worked so well. It was because of a wisdom of comedy first pointed out to me by Chuck Jones, the great Looney Tunes director of Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, et al., and the creator of the Coyote and the Roadrunner. 

ME AND CHUCK JONES 1991

I worked with Chuck off and on for years. 

One day we were discussing Airplane!, the 1980 comedy feature film. I pointed out that many of the gags in the movie seemed much like the work of that other great cartoon director, Tex Avery. Especially Avery's comedy timing and visual surrealness. Chuck agreed but then pointed out that it "worked" as a feature film because they took the plot seriously. "You really cared if that damn plane was going to crash or not," Chuck said. And, indeed, the filmmakers had "borrowed" the plot and characters from the 1957 Paramount film, Zero Hour, a straight dramatic suspense film.

The same could be said of the horror-comedy films mentioned above. The horrible threats from creatures and vampires were real for Abbott and Costello. And in the wizards' duel between Price and Karloff, the dire consequences if the good wizard lost were unthinkable. The confusion and existential angst that Young Frankenstein's monster felt were just as telling as what the original Frankenstein's monster felt. They were just a hell of a lot funnier!

So, in Creature Feature: A Horrid Comedy, I put in as much serious weirdness, threat, frights, flights, suspense, and potential horrible outcomes as I could (I mean, being eaten alive is a pretty horrible potential outcome) to form the skeleton for the flesh of funny. 

Besides spoofing old creature feature movies, I added some satire of politics. But that may be too horrible and frightening to discuss at this time.

As my novel was imbued with the spirit of monster movies, I wanted the audiobook to be performed more than just read. I wanted it to have fine comedic performances. So, I needed performers with natural wit and an innate sense of comedy timing. I didn't have to look far, for right in my Rolodex was Seamus Dever and Juliana Dever. (I don't really have a Rolodex, but I liked the alliteration.) You will remember the Devers (yes, they are married) from ABC's excellent mystery series, Castle. Seamus played Detective Ryan, a regular on the show. And Juliana guest-starred occasionally as Jenny, his girlfriend and, later, his wife. 

JULIANA DEVER AND SEAMUS DEVER IN CASTLE

I first met Seamus when I directed him in a staged reading of a one-act play by Ray Bradbury. 

JAMES CROMWELL AND SEAMUS DEAVER
READING A RAY BRADBURY PLAY

I was and remain a fan of Castle. The range of Seamus’s talent from the deeply dramatic to the comedic was well displayed in the series. Seamus is active in Los Angeles theatre, and I rarely miss an opportunity to see him on stage. And his work with Los Angeles Theatre Works (LATW), America's finest radio theater company, has been a delight to follow. Seamus, I knew, would be perfect as the narrator and the characters in the audiobook. But I also knew that Kathy/Vivacia, who is, after all, the main protagonist of the story, needed her own voice. When I saw the wit, lively banter, and obvious chemistry Seamus and Juliana shared in several "lockdown" videos they posted online, it was obvious. Juliana should be my Kathy/Vivacia.

I feel fortunate that Seamus and Juliana agreed to do the audiobook. 

A TEASER POSTER FOR THE 
CREATURE FEATURE AUDIOBOOK

Besides performing, Seamus produced, directed, and edited the recording, applying his wit and great sense of comedy timing to those efforts as well.

Did my mixing horror and humor work? 

Well, New York Times bestselling author of horror novels Jonathan Maberry 

JONATHAN MABERRY

has said: "Creature Feature is a weird, funny, twisty romp through the creepier parts of the American landscape. Highly entertaining and highly recommended." 

And Phil Proctor, one-fourth of The Firesign Theatre, the legendary comedy group that the Library of Congress called "The Beatles of Comedy," 

PHIL PROCTOR

said of the audiobook: "This is the most horrible thing I've ever heard—and that's a good thing! It's screamingly funny and probably one of the best performed and produced audiobooks I've ever heard...and I have tinnitus." 

So, I guess the answer is yes.

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ALL THE CREATURE FEATURE LINKS YOU COULD USE

Amazon ebook https://tinyurl.com/y4zxh6kf

Amazon UK ebook https://tinyurl.com/y9zrg8xq

Amazon Australia ebook  https://tinyurl.com/y6h56ozs

Amazon Canada ebook  https://tinyurl.com/y3zcqjh9

Amazon India ebook   https://tinyurl.com/y5jghfqm

Amazon paperback https://tinyurl.com/y6gqyea7

AMAZON AUDIOBOOK  https://tinyurl.com/yewcv6zx

AUDIBLE AUDIOBOOK  https://tinyurl.com/wjr2fb5s

CREATURE FEATURE SPEAKS! Blog  https://tinyurl.com/3k992ent

SAMPLE THE FULL FIRST CHAPTER OF CREATURE FEATURE ON YOUTUBE https://tinyurl.com/94mz54e5

CREATURE FEATURE SOUNDTRACK Suite for Le Cinema De Créatures (Music from "Creature Feature - A Horrid Comedy") https://tinyurl.com/j4pwydka

 

READ THE FIRST CHAPTER OF MY NEW NOVEL—CREATURE FEATURE: A HORRID COMEDY

 

1

THE BEGINNING

In 1962 the United States of America and, indeed, the whole world, faced an existential threat to our very existence! Yes, yes, I know, that’s redundancy in the extreme, but this threat, this danger not only to our lives but to our very way of life, was so imminent, so gut-wrenching, so horrifying, so unthinkable, that surely I can be excused a little alarmist redundancy, not to mention the exclamation mark.

Those of you who were alive at the time, or those of you who know your history, or those of you with even just a vague memory of a hint of a rumor, will immediately think I am writing about the Cuban Missile Crisis in October of that year when President John F. Kennedy, through disciplined and calm wisdom, saved our bacon bits—or tempeh tidbits, depending on your dietary requirements. Not that Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev didn’t find a spark of humanity within his bald Communist cranium and contribute to our bullet dodging, but Kennedy was the hero in our books. You may well be thinking that this boiling pot of Cold War stew is what I’m writing about. But you would be wrong.

I’m writing about something you and historians and even podcast pundits have never heard about, something that was far more existentially existential to our continued existence than a mundane nuclear holocaust. And you have

never heard about it because those who survived the calamity-that-almost- was entered into a conspiracy of silence. No—let me rewrite that, ‘conspiracy’ is too jaundiced a word. They entered into a pact of silence for fear of causing mass hysteria, and worldwide panic, and general consternation, and rampant indigestion.

But now is the time to finally reveal the truth so long hidden from you. And now is the time to speak of the hero and heroine (if I may not be too politically incorrect in using the feminine) who in the summer of ‘62 not only saved our bacon—but the whole damn pork enchilada. And only I can do that because only I know the whole story.

And as it is a story of black and white, put on your black and white specs and take a good look as we...

...enter deep into a dark swamp thick with bald cypress trees standing on their cypress knees as murky and mucky water flows around and all the cormorants and whooping cranes and anhingas have run, flown, or darted away; all the ducks have ducked underwater, and even the bald eagles and various hawks have lit out for safer territory as monumental hand-to-hand combat between a good- looking, well-muscled, male human hero in khaki clothes and an ugly, giant, two-legged lizardman of some exceptional martial skill, disturbs the usual peace of the swamp. A high-pitched scream is heard as a gorgeous blonde with perfect makeup and a blouse missing some buttons, fears for the life of the male human she may or may not have had carnal relations with and, not incidentally, her own life as well while clinging to the knee of a bald cypress tree. Finally, the male human hero gets the upper hand and manages to push the lizardman into a shallow part of the swamp with strange gases hovering close to the water’s surface. From his belt, the hero grabs a flare gun and does not hesitate to send a flare straight into the water, right between the lizardman’s legs. Hellfire explodes all around the lizardman. It is a fire that one knows is red and yellow with white- hot heat, but here it is only illuminated shades of gray. The lizardman, confused by the searing heat and pain lets out an unearthly howl as he slowly cooks to death. The good-looking, well-muscled, male human hero in khaki grabs the gorgeous blonde with perfect makeup and a blouse missing some buttons, and holds her tight as three-dimensionally looking letters in two dimensions fly up from nowhere and smack against the screen spelling out ATTACK OF THE LIZARDMAN and THE END and MADE IN HOLLYWOOD U.S.A.

The broadcast of this early 1950s horror flick being over, the small studio at Chicago’s WAGO-TV station bustled and burst with color (colorful set, colorful language from frustrated technicians) as they switched to live to finish this episode of Vivacia’s House of Horrors. The beautiful Vivacia herself—pale of face framed by long raven’s wing (what else?) black hair and wearing a slinky and slick ebony satin dress with a plunging neckline (or décolletage if we want to bring a little lift to the thought)—lounged sensually on her huge, round bed with blood-red silk sheets (the producer had gotten the idea from Chicago native Hugh Hefner). She looked directly into camera number one and held up what looked exactly like a barbecued lizard on a stick and said in her deep, silky voice, “Oooooooo—lizard flambe!” With a ravenous, anticipatory smile, Vivacia parted her lips, brought the lizard flambe to her mouth, and took a generous bite full of sexual subtext. She chewed, savored, swallowed, then said, “I love it!”

A snort and a whimper came from her side as a little hunchback man with a twisted face bounced on the bed next to her. “Would you like a little bite, Grossie?”

Grossie, snorting and panting, made it clear that he would, and so Vivacia let him slobber onto the reptilian delicacy, licking it like a popsicle, as she said, “Well, it’s time for me to close up the House of Horrors for the summer, turn out the lights, and scream to my heart’s content. But do tune in tomorrow for our first ever rerun of that masterpiece of waterfowl fright, Devil Ducks from Downunder. It’s Australian, mate!”

The red light on the camera dimmed, and the director—somewhat dim himself—shouted, “All right everybody, another classic in the can.”

Vivacia relaxed as Grossie collapsed into her décolletage while snorting out his signature snort. “Arthur! Please!” Vivacia said as she pushed Grossie out of her cleavage and flat (sort of) onto his costume's cotton-filled humpback.

Vivacia shimmied herself off the round bed just as her agent, who was ironically named Al Hart, came up and handed her a cup of coffee, which she took with gratitude and downed with alacrity.

“Baby, sweetie, that was great! I still have chills running up and down my spine.”

Vivacia looked at her agent, a genial man who was never seen wearing anything but a three-piece gray suit draped over his skinny frame, and, one inferred, lifts in his shoes, as well as a gray fedora to keep Chicago’s wind from sweeping across his bald pate. “How is that possible, Al?” Vivacia asked in her deep, silky voice. “I didn’t know you had a spine.”

“Are you kidding, kiddo? It’s steel, I tell ya, steel.”

Vivacia handed her now empty coffee cup back to Al and left the studio floor to walk down a corridor to her dressing room. “Yeah, yeah, sure.”

Al, who actually did not have an office in metropolitan Chicago, but rather in a nearby suburb in a room over the garage of his “ancestral home,” quickly put down the cup and reached into his inside coat pocket and withdrew with pride a folded document and hurried to follow the mistress of the night.

“Well, maybe this will prove it to ya, baby. I got your new contract right here. And I got you a great deal. Three years, no ifs, ands, or buts. A 2.3% raise over those three years. And your dressing room repainted.”

Vivacia continued down the corridor, shouting back, “Al, I told you, no way!” And when she spotted the nineteen-year-old “associated producer” of Vivacia’s House of Horrors down the corridor just about to dash into editorial, she shouted forward, “GEORGE!”

At the deep-voiced, silky, yet pointed command of the vampire woman, George stopped midway through the editorial door. Vivacia came up to him and held the “lizard-on-a-stick” with the generous bite out of it right in front of his fuzzy face. “What the hell did you fashion this ‘lizard’ out of?”

“Ah...” George’s eyes darted right, then darted left, then up, possibly in supplication to a supernatural being for protection, then down in avoidance as his mouth formed a feeble smile and he barely articulated, “Lizard.”

“Youuuu bastard,” Vivacia said with a chill in her voice and revenge on her mind.

“Gotta go!” George dashed into editorial and quickly closed the door.

Vivacia began down the corridor again. “If my mind weren’t already made up, that would have done it!”

Al quickly followed. “Listen, please, this is a great deal! It’s the highpoint of my career!”

Vivacia stopped, turned, burned a look into Al’s pinpoint eyes, and said, “Al, getting a second client would be the highpoint of your career.”

Vivacia and Al came to the dressing room of one KATHY ANDERSON (as it said on the door) and entered. Vivacia immediately went behind an ornate but faded dressing screen that once resided in Chicago’s once-great Studebaker Theater, and Al plopped himself onto a worn and patched couch of no known style.

“Kathy, please, please, don’t do this to yourself. You turn down a deal like this and the word goes out—and I hate to put it in these terms, but it’s a cruel business—the B.I.T.C.H. is dif-i-cult. You’ll never work in this town again.”

Vivacia’s deep and silky voice countered from behind the screen, “Oh, don’t give me that, Al. This isn’t network prime time TV. This is a cheap local station, late-night, creature feature show, for Christ’s sake. And I’m sick and tired of being a sex goddess for geeks!” she exclaimed as she tossed her black dress over the top of the screen. It landed on Al’s lap. “And who cares about Chicago anyway? There’s a reason why they call it ‘The Second City.’ I’m a well-trained actor, Al. I studied at the Actor’s Studio. In New York, Al! You know, the First City! I should be plying my craft on Broadway. I should be doing plays by Arthur Miller and Tennessee Williams, even this new guy, Albee.”

“Broadway’s dying, baby!”

Vivacia’s deep and silky voice, laced with venom, came as a curse from behind the dressing screen. “Al, don’t ever say that again! Broadway will never die!”

Al was unrelenting. “TV’s killing it, kiddo!”

“Oh, Al, please...” Vivacia had vanished. Somebody else was suddenly pleading, in a voice neither deep nor silky. Out from behind the screen came Kathy Anderson. In truth more scamp than vamp, an all-American blonde girl of leading cheers and making homes and occupying the day and night dreams of countless young American males who didn’t deserve her. Except, of course, Kathy wanted more.

“You have to understand,” she finished, standing in a warm light wearing a simple nice skirt and a white blouse and holding Vivacia’s black wig at her side like a large dead rat, “I am going crazy playing Vivacia. I was meant to be Ophelia. Joan of Arc. Hedda Gabler. Not a vampire woman who eats lizards on a stick!” Kathy gestured broadly with the wig in hand, like a nightmare pom-pom from hell.

“But—”

“It’s all settled. First thing tomorrow I’m taking off. I’m going to stop and see my parents for a couple of weeks so you can send my last check there. Then it’s New York! The stage or die!” Kathy grabbed a framed photo of her parents from her dressing table and her oversize purse, stuffing the wig into it.

“Ah...,” Al said.

“Hey! I paid for this wig. Remember? It wasn’t part of the last deal you got me!”

“No, I just thought you would want the dress too,” Al Hart said offering up the dress from his lap.

“Oh, yeah! I paid for that too!”

Kathy snatched the dress from Al’s hand then marched to the door, turned back to face Al with a bright smile, and a cheerful “Bye!” accented by a little wave of her hand. Then she turned and left, canceling this episode of her life. 

==============================================================

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ON AMAZON AT

Amazon ebook https://tinyurl.com/y4zxh6kf

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