I’ve never really understood a few things about horror movies.
I mean, why is it that there is always a stupid girl who tries to run away and then falls? Obviously, it’s because they’re wearing heels while running, but who goes into the woods wearing high-heeled shoes?
Not a smart girl.
We don’t go into the woods. Period.
And why do these stupid girls always make the worst possible decisions when faced with a life threatening situations?
It’s like they are begging to be a victim.
“Oh, wow. I heard a weird noise in this crazy, desolate house we just happened to find on a rainy night… I think I’ll go in the basement and check it out.”
Who actually does that?
No one with a brain, that’s who.
When my husband and I got married, we honeymooned across the Southeast. We spent our first night in a bed and breakfast in Lexington, Ky., then hit the Chattanooga Choo Choo to stay in one of their railroad cars. After that, we headed south through Huntsville, Alabama and stopped at Space Camp before hitting the local Piggly Wiggly and to grab something for dinner that night.
After that, we realized that our car’s taillights were out while driving to New Orleans on the Natchez Trace. At that moment, it really made sense to camp out and cook out.
It wasn’t until after we set up the tent, put our sleeping bag in place and organized all of the camping equipment that we got around to eating our crawfish dinner. It was dark. The sky was filled with stars and no sound. It was heaven.
Until we realized we were the only ones in the campground.
As the campfire started to ebb, I heard weird sounds. Surely, whatever was in the woods right behind us had caught the scent of our crawfish cooked over the open flame and wanted a little taste.
Apparently, the carcasses and shells of the little critters we had flung into the forest weren’t enough for them.
Which led me to announce to my new husband the only thing I knew to say.
“Honey, this is how people die,” I said. “This is the type of setting where the serial killer comes out of the woods and slaughters the unsuspecting couple and they don’t find their body for forever. I don’t want to rot away in a swamp somewhere and have no one finde us for decades ’til some kid decides to take a leak.”
So, we did what any sane couple would do – we up and moved.
I mean, we packed up everything, tent and all, and we got the HELL out of there.
If we hadn’t, we’d have been the anonymous couple in the horror movie that gets killed before the real cast shows up.
Isn’t that what anyone would do?
Which leads me to my other horror movie question – why do movie producers continue to create this sense of foreboding and terror when people in an obviously haunted house reach into a kitchen drain with a garbage disposal in it?
Usually, up until that point, there hasn’t been a time when the ghosts have done anything physically threatening, but still the scene will cut away from a close-up on the distracted Mom, to a shot of her reaching into the drain to get a spoon or fallen wedding ring or whatever is making that unnatural sound, and then immediately the scene cuts to an even closer shot of the gears of the disposal ready to spring to life and tear her hand to shreds, ostensibly pulling the her hand and the rest of her body into the great unknown.
Has this ever happened before?
Seriously, is there some supernatural phenomenon that I’m not aware of that helps ghost make disposals spring to life when they can’t even move a chair on command or be in the same room with more than one person?
It’s not a fear I understand completely.
Yesterday, I was quietly washing the dishes while everyone else in the house played video games or watched TV. When it finally came time to clear out the sink, like any other Mom, I shoved everything into the drain, turned on the water and flipped the disposal switch on with my foot (since it’s located under the sink).
For a few seconds, that disposal grinded and cranked and did whatever it is that disposals do.
Then, all of a sudden, it started making this weird clunking noise – like there was a spoon in it or something.
And, of course, I did what any other sane Mom would do, I leaned back and started to lift my foot to turn off the switch and see what was wrong. About that same time, something shot out of the disposal and landed about where my head would have been if I hadn’t.
It was a penny.
A mangled, sharp-edged, chewed up penny that had all the harbingers of death via copper. One cent of shrapnel delivered via electronic gears.
That thing could’ve sliced my ear off, or worse, taken an eye out!
And my house isn’t even haunted!!!
But did I peer into the disposal and see what was wrong? NO! Did I reach into it to investigate? NO? Did I hang around when it was making weird noises and wait for something ominous to happen? Uhm, NO!
I got the hell out of the way!!!
I’m still not sure how anyone can think of disposals as gears of death via spirits from the great beyond. Heck, they could be deadly without the help of electromagnetic frequencies and Great Aunt Tilda holding a grudge against your redecorating the house.
But just like the camp ground, if that thing starts making noises, I’m getting the heck out of Dodge.
Let the plumber get hacked to pieces for a change.
It’s what a smart girl would do.
Copyright (c) Liz Carey 2016