Finally remembered the terrifying name of the talk show/chainsaw juggling school in my nightmare last night where colorful carnival greasepaint was most of the zombies flesh. It was called Nougat! With Ron Children... Yeah. It meant something terrible and worse than Satanic in the dream. Like something so horrifying that Rob Zombie would vomit and avoid you if you showed it to him, even in a picture. Its weird, but it still kind of has that hold on me now. Like when I was a kid and I used to listen to the cassette tapes of the old radio show, Suspense!, and have to make myself run to the toilet to pee because The House In Cypress Canyon and my overactive imagination had convinced me that a 1950s housewife with Lovecraft-grade rabies was in every closet with a lock on its door. And the linen closet was right across from the bathroom. I wont even go into what kind of misapprehensions I labored under about the bathroom and, in particular, the toilet, after I read the bit about Beverly Marsh in Stephen Kings *IT*. Thats it for now. By tomorrow, nougat will no longer frighten me at all. But right now...
Posted on: Wed, 23 Jul 2014 03:06:45 +0000
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