Vampires, Werewolves, Frankenstein's Monster; these are just some of the creepy creatures that have managed to scare generations of easily frightened young children. As with everything in popular culture and mythology it wasn't always this way. Many moons ago, when the fog was heaviest around the haunted mansion of the collective imagination, many monster stories were told. Those that proved to be the most bone chilling made their way through the centuries to us, those that were about as scary as a nap in a hammock were mostly forgotten.
This spine tingling haunted spooktacular Halloween I would like to share three of the least scary tales of terror ever conceived. The First is a terrifying journey through the cerebral terrors of living alone in the terror-filled pioneer days of America. Old Ma Barker has nothing to eat but kidney beans, but one of those beans has a surprise in store for her when she fails to appreciate the generous bounty of the land.
The Cursed BeanTerrorlicious!It was a spooky October night, with a full moon in the skies above and all manner of bats and wolf howls and other such jackanapes of the creatures of the night. Old Ma Barker was carrying a sack of dried kidney beans to make a soup that night and she set it down on the counter with a sigh. She was so tired of eating kidney beans every night that she was nearly ready to hang herself.
"Oh Kidney beans," she said, addressing the sack of kidney beans. "I am so tired of your mushy soups and bland taste. I have run out of salt and now you are more horrible than ever. I curse you kidney beans."
Ma Barker turned away in disgust and began filling a cook put with water from the hand pump in her kitchen because this story is during the olden times. She turned the oven on and thought she heard a rustling sound coming from the counter but dismissed it as more bats that had flown in through the chimney. Ma Barker stirred the water in the pot because this was before TV and the people then had nothing better to do for entertainment. After marveling at the swirling water for a few minutes she looked over and noticed something was amiss.
A giant kidney beans with legs and arms ending in comically oversized white gloves was sitting at the table.
"Hee hee, hello!" The bean man cackled.
Ma Barker screamed and the bean man laughed, then she screamed some more, then the bean man sort of chuckled, then when she kept screaming the bean man stood up and told her to calm down.
"My name is Beanie and I am the ghost of all of the kidney beans you have murdered in your boiling scald pots, hee hee!"
Ma Barker slapped weakly at Beanie's comically oversized hands.
"P-please," pleaded Ma Barker, "don't kill me."
"Hee hee, why shucks Ma Barker, I wouldn't kill you!" Beanie giggled hideously. "You summoned me when you cursed my beautiful children, you must learn to appreciate the kidney beans. I am going to teach you to love us."
Ma Barker screamed one last time before Beanie could snatch up a broom and start sweeping her log cabin's floors. As she convulsed in terror Beanie made her bed, walked her sleepy hound dog Big Blue, and knitted a quilt to keep her warm.
"See, kidney beans aren't so bad, are we?" Beanie asked her a month later after painting her house, installing air conditioning, and making sweet love to Ma Barker every night.
"You're right," replied Ma Barker. "Kidney beans are truly a godsend to an old woman who lives alone and unloved."
And they lived happily ever after!
Bone chilling! The terrifying monster in our second story may be a bit more familiar to you since it's a legendary creature. However, it's not widely known that this half-human and half-horse beast once occupied a position in folklore very similar to werewolves. For the first time in over two hundred years, I offer you the story of the centaur.
Howl of the CentaurFrightacular!The moon was fuller than a bucket overflowing with moonbeams and wisps of clouds drifted past it. It provided illumination in the black forest of Widow Creek, at least enough for the lost lumberjack Joe Curry to find his way. He's been trapped in the forest all night, having lost his way when he got distracted thinking about winning marbles strategies. Back in the olden days men played marbles instead of watching pornography.
Suddenly, there was a howl that sent shivers up Joe's spine. It was shrill and unearthly, like a balloon deflating on the surface of Mars. Joe swallowed hard and nervously quickened his pace.
A few more minutes and the howl broke through the quiet night once again, closer this time, and Joe swore that he could hear an animal thrashing somewhere nearby. He began running, afraid of what beast might be pursuing him.
The howl came a third time, almost right on top of him, and as Joe ran headlong and panicked through the dim forest he was certain he could sense the beast charging after. He came to a shallow ravine and began to pick his way carefully but quickly down its rocky interior. Somehow he made a misstep and lost his footing, sliding awkwardly down to the bottom of the ravine and bruising himself painfully.
Half dazed, Joe looked up and saw the beast. It had the upper body of a man, well muscled and with wild long hair and burning eyes, but its lower body was that of a powerful horse.
"Foolish human," shouted the creature, "you have been cutting down the trees of my forest for many days, and now you will pay the price."
The centaur climbed down to where Joe was struggling to get to his feet and grabbed the lumberjack.
"I am going to make out with you now," said the centaur, and began making out with the lumberjack.
After a few minutes the centaur stopped.
"Now I have planted my egg inside you and you will give birth to a new warden of this forest."
Without another word the centaur bounded out of the ravine, leaving Joe feeling flustered and slightly aroused. Then Joe felt the centaur egg stirring in his stomach and cried out in terror.
Poor Joe Curry! I know I wouldn't want to make out with a centaur, let alone give birth to a baby centaur out of my stomach! Truly terrifying, don't you agree?
This last story is one that is near and dear to my heart living here in Chicago. It relies on the legendary status of gangster Al Capone to lend itself power, but it is a tale of the walking dead that is truly unique. It is also not very popular.
The Ghost of Al Capone's Window RepairmanHauntastic!Tamara and Huxley took the dare against their better judgment. Twenty dollars a piece to sleep in the Al Capone's abandoned sea side resort house in Chicago. To say the place was decrepit would be doing a cosmic disservice to all things decrepit. As they pried open the rotten door of the house they shone their flashlights in and could see holes in the floorboards and pools of water.
They made their way carefully inside, trudging past sagging curls of wallpaper and rusted and useless light sconces.
"Ahhhh!" Tamara shrieked abruptly.
Huxley turned the flashlight towards her and saw a rat ambling between her legs.
"It's just a rat, calm down!" He hissed at her. "We need to find a place where we can put our sleeping bags."
They crept up the bowed stairs to the second floor. The whole staircase shook with each step and at one point Huxley's foot broke through one of the steps. They hurried up to the second floor where they found a reasonably clean room where the roof was still intact. Tamara walked over to a huge picture window and gazed out at the seaside cliffs that fell sharply into the Atlantic ocean.
"Uhhh, Tamara," whispered Huxley, "do you notice anything weird?"
Tamara looked around and, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, shrugged.
"Look at the window you crazy ho, it's brand new, like it was just installed!"
Huxley was right; the window was brand new, as if it had just recently been installed.
"Yeeeeesss," said a disembodied voice from the hall beyond, "thhaaaaaaat is my latest work."
A ghost totally just floated into the room like it did that sort of thing every day. It was carrying an ethereal carpenter's level and a wood plane and was sort of blue but also you could see stuff through it.
"Holy crap!" Tamara yelled and jumped away form the ghost. "It's a ghost."
"Yes," the ghost replied, "I am the ghost of Al Capone's window repairman. He died in prison before he could see all of the remodeling work I had done on his seaside retreat, so now I walk the halls for all eternity repairing the windows and installing new ones."
"Oh no!" Huxley shouted and held up his crucifix.
"Your parlor tricks will do you no good. I am going to haunt you now until the day you die, installing and repairing windows in your home or office. Then when you die you will haunt me and break all of the windows I install."
"Nooooooooooooooo!" Huxley screamed.
"Noooooooooooooooo!" Tamara screamed.
And they lived happily ever after.
I hope this has been a frightastic Halloween for you! I know I have had my bones chilled nearly to absolute zero! Muhahahahahahaahahah!
Image Enhanced with Adobe® Photoshop® Software Phriday
Hey gang, Livestock here with some disturbing news. It seems that I have abusing our fine English language. I tell you, I'm just as shocked as you are! For the last year I've been talking all about "Photoshopping" this and "Photoshopping" that. Well, apparently that's wrong and I've got to change. Anyway, it's time for another Phriday Variety Pack, featuring Abercrombie & Fitch's new line of shirts, as provided by the SA Forum Goons. In addition to that, we take a look at famous historical photographs and paintings made vanilla with the aid of Adobe® Photoshop® software such as Adobe® Photoshop® and Adobe® Photoshop® Elements®. Here is a preview picture featuring nothing of controversy or interest!
I don't want to be talking fool's talk, but I heard a rumor that if you click here your penis will grow at least three inches and ink cartridges will cost mere pennies!
The valor pigs have been looking over your uniform and trying to find fault. Time to show them how army is done!
Video games make it socially acceptable to point at Jane
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.