Halloween Hangover. And the Slasher I forgot to Slash.|
Welcome to the Garden of Eden. There’s nobody here but me and you. So what we gonna be eatin’? Microphone check, one, two, one, two…
No, Jack White isn’t on the speakers right now. It’s actually WKIT and the 10:40 Blues (at the time of this draft). 10 o’clock in Bangor, 9 o’clock down here. No complaints. Did I ever tell you guys I visited WKIT during my trip to Maine last year? If I haven’t, my bad — when I find the time, I’ll drop a dedicated post with pictures and the whole nine yards. But when I was there, I was wandering around Bangor and stumbled onto the studio. While I didn’t get the chance to meet the legends like Don Cookson, Paul Allen, or ScoMo, I did score a free sticker that’s still plastered to my laptop.
Anyhoozles. Oh, would you look at that, people? It’s Monday morning. The Monday after Halloween. How’s that Halloween hangover treating you? How was trick-or-treating? Did you give out full-size candy bars or the bite-size ones? More importantly, were you one of the serial-killer-adjacent weirdos handing out fruit snacks? Seriously. Who does that? I know inflation is kicking our teeth in, but Jeez Louise, fruit snacks?
And that’s not my only beef with this annual corporate holiday. The missus and I went dressed as a doctor and a nurse. Classy. Clean. Drew plenty of compliments. But it wasn’t our first choice. Originally, we were supposed to go as Coraline and Wybie because we’re down like that, but Spirit Halloween was charging $70-plus for each costume. Seventy bucks for a wig and a coat made of pleather. Seventy-fucking-dollars, people! Naturally, we did what any sane couple would do: hit up Amazon for a $10 white coat and stethoscope, while the missus dug up her nurse’s costume from five years ago. And you know what? We crushed it. Huge hit at the Halloween party. An ICU nurse dressed as Princess Fiona from Shrek said we were really convincing so take that, Spirit Halloween.
November is officially here. What are we doing, fellow misfits? Celebrating it or skipping straight to Christmas? The missus and I already watched Elf, so that tells you where our collective heads are at. Although I will say, this month should go by very fast for us. We have this week with nothing but work but next week is a halfer. The missus will be out of town visiting family while I hold down the fort for Friday the 13th.
“Oh, Richie Poo, what do you do on Friday the 13th?”
I treat Friday the 13th like it’s goddamn Mardi Gras, that’s what. I either air-fry buffalo wings or order an insane amount, crack open some cold ones, and chase it down with a marathon of Jason Voorhees. Given Spirit Halloween’s costume prices, I can only imagine the likes of Wingstop or Pluckers, so I’ll probably be frying my own.
The week after that, we’re heading up to Montana for an early winter trip, followed immediately by Thanksgiving. I’ll keep y’all posted — mostly just to track how catastrophically my waistline expands.
Now, onto business. I know it’s been a minute, but in my last Literary Dumpster Fire, I shat out a bunch of novels I was reading. One of them was a supposed “slasher” called Summer Fun Massacre.
I’m not making this shit up. The blurb on Barnes & Noble literally says this — “Surviving the massacre is just the beginning in this razor-sharp summer-camp slasher with a bloody twist from horror master Craig DiLouie.”
Now, correct me if I am wrong, but wasn’t a slasher — oh, I don’t know — supposed to feature…slashing?
This novel read more like a procedural mystery where the slashing happened off-screen (is it still off-screen? Or is it off-page?) At no point do we get a masked menace stalking or butchering a pack of horny teenagers or arrogant saps who scoff at local folklore. Instead, we get an ambiguous urban legend, a few suspects, and a lot of misdirection. The cover advertises a lakeside setup reminiscent of Camp Crystal Lake (please, no spoilers. I haven’t watched the prequel series yet) so naturally, I expected the entire novel to unravel deep in the isolated woods and away from civilization.
Nope.
First few pages, all the kids are dead and the rest of the book is just a beat cop playing detective. File this one under standard murder mystery. To be fair to DiLouie, I did find this buried several algorithm pages deep in my Nook recommendations, so maybe user error is to blame.
Still.
The last time I was hit with false advertising was when Halloween Ends came out (I still want my refund, Peacock!)
I did warn you misfits that I was going to be highly critical of this novel. I’m not typically competitive (except in Fantasy Football) but when it comes to the slasher genre, I strive to be the best. Is The Woman in Black the best? Probably not, but I will go to my grave taking anyone with me who dares claim otherwise.
Until then, survive your Monday, dominate the week, and stay out of trouble.
Focker, out!
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