A little kink in the stride never hurt anything, especially not a franchise built on fantasies perverse, unorthodox, macabre.
And so in ‘85 the Final Girl became a Final Boy, the first queenie scream queen. Tight-arsed and wet-chested, he felt Freddy inside him and felt himself turning, unable to please his girlfriend, compelled instead by leather and his cruel, delicious gym teacher. Whom Freddy can’t help relaxing with.
Sometimes a nightmare starts in the same place as a dream....
It was one late night sometime back in nineteen seventy five When Frank came home nine sheets to the wind - intoxicated His wife was really pissed off and she made him sleep on the couch She didn’t like his heavy drinking and on that night she was very irritated
But Frank’s mother-in-law, feeling a little sorry for the guy Thought it was cold so she got up to get sheets and cover him And as she raised them over her head, in the dark, he suddenly woke up So he stuttered and screamed seeing floating sheets coming to smother him
When that familiar Scarecrow hangs its hat in your corn and glares at you deservedly so with hollow eyed scorn ----spill your own guts before it's too late. No ifs, ands, buts. Don't hesitate! Gun-clinging is a surefire recipe for a vengeful, vigilante spree resulting in your life being cut short by your own stupidity. * snort * Seriously! These "accidents" can be seen from a mile away, but chipping machine and silo grains will likewise end up as filler on resume of the real rural serial...