Rob Zombie’s Halloween 1½

ROB ZOMBIE’S HALLOWEEN 1 ½

A Proposal

BACKGROUND
One year passed between the events of Rob Zombie’s Halloween and Rob Zombie’s Halloween 2.  During that time, Michael Myers had to not only control his pathological urge to kill, but he had to lay low and not be spotted by ANYONE.  He’s a 7 foot tall mountain man.  He stands out.  Rob Zombie’s Halloween 1½ explores that time period.

CHARACTERS
Michael Myers is really the only character in Rob Zombie’s Halloween 1½.  Non-character stereotypes include his mother and Michael’s here-to-for unmentioned Uncle Jimmy.  Uncle Jimmy’s sole purpose in life is to re-introduce vaudeville into popular culture.  He has absolutely no impact on the story or characters in the film, much like the Dr. Loomis character in Rob Zombie’s Halloween 2.  Abdul and Apu are the sort of vague Middle-East caricatures that Hollywood and America love:  the non-terrorist kind.

LOCATION
After Michael Myers ditches the cops, he’s got to bide his time and wait for the next Halloween.  After a bunch of time walking through fields and dealing with typical Rob Zombie White Trash ™, Michael Myers eventually settles into life in the Chicago suburbs.

SELECT SCENES
This first scene occurs right after Michael arrives in Berwyn.  Tired of his diet of stray dogs and being referred to as a Dollar Menunaire, Michael realizes he needs to get a job.  The local 7-11 is hiring.

ABDUL
So, Mr., uh, Smith.  I’ve gone over your application
and have detected some irregularities.

MICHAEL
(stony silence)

ABDUL
Uh.  Yes.  So, for instance, under “Prior Work
Experience, you just wrote the word “fuck” 213
times.

MICHAEL
(more stony silence, but Michael
slowly tilts his head)

ABDUL
So welcome to 7-11.  You start Monday.

Well, as you can imagine, Monday comes way too quickly for Michael.  He may be a horrific spree killer, but he still gets butterflies about the first day at a new job.  And his first customer is way more than either of them bargained for.

BICYCLIST
Clerk.  Clerk.  Look at me when I talk to you.

MICHAEL
(slowly straightens to his full height)

BICYCLIST
What happened to the Wheat Germ Slurpee?

MICHAEL
(silence)

BICYCLIST
(silence)

MICHAEL
(silence)

BICYCLIST
So I’ll just get the cherry one instead.  Yeah.

Eventually Michael settles into a routine.  Having beers one night with his co-worker Abdul, he’s reminded that Halloween is only a week away.  Michael tenders his resignation, and his co-workers throw him a good-bye party.

ABDUL
(raising his glass)
To John!  Good luck, my friend.

APU
(raises his glass)
Whatever.

MICHAEL
(grunts)

ABDUL
Fuck.

And then Michael walks back to Haddonfield and brutally murders a bunch of people before being allegedly killed, which we all know he’s not.

CONCLUSION
This proposal doesn’t really do my vision of Rob Zombie’s Halloween 1½ justice.  There’s like a big scene with a bunch of trailer trash and the only dialog is “fuck”.  It’s fuckin’ awesome.  And I should probably mention the extended dream sequence that takes up 85 minutes of the 90 minute runtime.  It’s fuckin’ awesome.  If you thought the “Nights In White Satin” scene in Rob Zombie’s Halloween 2 was a trip, just wait until you see the “Coney Island Lady” scene in Rob Zombie’s Halloween 1½.

Oh yeah.  And a bunch of tits thrown in for no particular reason.

Coming Soon:  Rob Fuckin’ Zombie’s Halloween Fuckin’ 3: The Fuckin’ Season of the Fuckin’ Fuck Fuck.  Fuck

HALLOWEEN 1½ OFFICIAL PRODUCTION STILL

*special thanks to The Woodsman

The Marvelous Wonders Of The Great Indoors

If you’re like me, and if you’re not you’re probably an illiterate racist pedophile, then you love the summer. Hot weather, longer days, and lack of clothing all make for the best time of the year. It’s great to go out at night without piling on nine layers of clothes. And yet, there’s one aspect of summer that all warm weather enthusiasts hate: the sun.

Fortunately for you, dear ColuMn reader, I, BlackJack, am considered one of the world’s foremost Great Indoorsman. I’ve spent most of my life exploring the majestic wonders of inside. And now I can finally share some of my most thrilling adventures with you.

Our journey starts, happens, and ends on one of the greatest inventions of whatever century it was invented: the sofa. Some of you might know it by the term “couch”, and our dead and almost dead readers know it as the “davenport”, but no matter what you call it, everybody universally acknowledges that it is the shit. Whether you’re exploring such far off exotic locales as Liberty City or Bayside High, the sofa is always there to ensure a safe and comfortable trip.

You, of course will have to discover your own Furniture Guide. For some it may be the barcalounger. Others might prefer the annoying texture and sound of a beanbag chair. For others, perhaps a piss-stained futon. Your Furniture Guide is unique to you.  Odds are you have already bonded with it.

From there, the entire square footage of whatever disgusting hovel you non-ironically calm “home” is wide open.

I’d wager you’re probably reading this inside. Take a look around. Look at all the awesome floor, walls, and ceilingness. Lay your gaze across the vastness of your well-earned bounty. And need I even mention the awe-inspiring artistry of internet porn? Truly, my friend, you are indeed a god.

So join me in shunning the so-called Great Outdoors. I don’t see what’s so great. Did you know that a lot of violent deaths happen OUTSIDE THE HOME? No, they don’t want you to know that. So to hell with the “fresh” air and the sun and *ugh* NATURE. Let’s get back to basics and do some roughin’ it BlackJack style, in the ludicrously opulent environs of the marvelous wonders of the Great Indoors.

Dots

I apologize in advance for this.  Definitely ColuMn’s worst post ever.

The Trash Train

There was a time, not so long ago, that the phrase “ridin’ the rails” conjured up images of exciting places, dangerous adventure, and, of course, hobos. Who hasn’t at one time in their life entertained a fanciful daydream of hopping aboard that boxcar with the door conveniently ajar? Yes, at one time the rails seemed like an innocent dream; a link to a simpler time. But that’s all changed, friends. No more does the sound of a train approaching bring with it mystery and adventure. Now all it summons is dread, fear, and disgust. For I have encountered . . . The Trash Train.

That day had started like countless others. The alarm going off, the quick shower, and the short drive to work. I parked my car in the parking structure across the street and started to walk the two blocks to work. Unfortunately, I not only have to cross the street to get to work, I have to cross the train tracks. As I approached, the lights started flashing and the bells started clanging, as the arm of the barricade descended. This wasn’t that unusual, so I settled in and prepared to wait the 5 or so minutes.

I smelled it almost before I saw it. The wind carried on it the sickly sweet scent of rot. At this point, unfamiliar with the entire concept of The Trash Train, I foolishly decided to hold my ground. Within seconds the train was rolling past me at a leisurely pace. The smell intensified. It was as if a slaughterhouse had been sealed up mid-production and then unsealed a year later. My eyes began to water and I swallowed a gag. I’d had enough.

I quickly backed away, but the smell refused to dissipate. Desperately, I turned and hastened my pace. There was no escape. My eyes darted around, trying to focus through the tears that now fell freely from my tortured eyes. If I needed further proof of the non-existence of some sort of superior being who created the universe, the unholy decomposing horror that paraded before me would have been more than enough.

Just as the last shattered fragment of my sanity was about to abandon me, it was over. I looked around at my fellow survivors. No words seemed adequate. We defiantly dried our eyes and wiped our mouths, proceeding proudly across the tracks and into work. No one ever spoke of the experience again.

Now that I’m aware of The Trash Train, I see it with some frequency, always (mercifully) from a safe distance. But I’m always aware that the wind can suddenly change. Late at night, in that moment outside of time and space, where the waking world and the dream world briefly co-exist, I can hear the distant sound of a train rolling menacingly down black, empty tracks. And on certain nights, if the wind is blowing just right, I can smell The Trash Train.

And as the grotesque monstrosity of a conductor pulls the chain, the whistle is drown out by my screams and I realize it’s not a nightmare and there is no waking up. There is only . . . The Trash Train.

1317½ Chapter Six: Dreamline

ACT I, SCENE I:  Introduction
It is a chilly afternoon in November.  Looking in from the street, Donny and Johnson shuffle into the entryway of 1317-1/2.  Donny smashes the glass of the door and the two grotesque figures enter and begin to ascend the stairs.

ACT I, SCENE II:  Hide
Upstairs Cami, Chris, Scott, Jason, Arps, and Greg are frozen in panic as they hear the loud clomp of footsteps on the stairwell.  All at once, they move, darting into different rooms of the apartment.  Chris and Arps hide in the small bedroom, Greg and Cami in the large bedroom, and Jason and Scott take refuge in the back storage area just off the kitchen.

ACT I, SCENE III:  Seek
Donny and Johnson burst into the apartment in a shower of shattered glass and splintered wood.  Their eyes dart around the apartment, wildly blazing with insanity and bloodlust.  A quick scan reveals what appears to be an empty unit.

ACT I, SCENE IV:  A Change Of Reality
Scott crouches in the storage area with Jason.  They hear footsteps approach.  Just as the footsteps are right outside the door to the storage area, Scott’s head swoons and his consciousness blurs.  When his senses return, he is no longer in the storage area and Jason is nowhere to be seen.

ACT II, SCENE I:  Time Warp
Scott stands in front of 508.  He looks up at the house, but it’s fazing in and out, interchanging places with 1317-1/2.  And then it’s just 508, but time is moving rapidly in reverse.  The house is being deconstructed and then it is centuries earlier.  There is a group of primitive humans performing some sort of ritual on the exact spot where 508 would later stand.

ACT II, SCENE II:  Ritual
At the climax of the ritual, a young woman is tied to a tree naked and riddled with shallow cuts.  Then something out in the dark woods moves.  As it nears the site, the fire turns phosphorescent and then dies out in a blink.  Scott can barely make out the form that emerges from the woods.  It an ancient, primitive evil nightmare brought to life.  It moves jerkily to the girl and begins mating, ignoring her screams.

ACT II, SCENE III:  Birth Of The Monster
Almost immediately upon the creature’s beginning of the mating ritual with the girl, she begins to go into labor.  Scott looks on in horrified silence as the Psycho Killer slices his way out of the girl’s body, fully grown.  His glowing eyes meet Scott’s.

ACT III, SCENE IV:  DREAMLINE
Scott once again is transported against his will through time, flitting in and out of reality into a dream dimension where the only things that exist are the woods, the clearing, 508, and 1317-1/2.  It’s the realm of nightmares and Scott is trapped there, unable to wake up.

ACT III, SCENE I:  Home
He tries to will himself not to, but his legs don’t obey and he mounts the steps to the entrance of 508.  He enters the door and sees Arps on the sofa, watching tv.  Tom comes out of his bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  Arps and Tom nod at each other and Tom goes back into his room.

ACT III, SCENE II:  Déjà vu
Scott proceeds through the living room and up the stairs, not knowing if Arps or Tom are aware of his presence or not.  He enters the door to his left:  Greg’s room.  Lying there, as they seem to always have been, are Chris, Scott, Greg, Tom, and Jason.

ACT III, SCENE III:  Parting Shot
Just as he begins to realize the truth about 508, Scott wakes up with a gasp.  His eyelids flip open and he sits up.  It takes him a moment, but he begins to take in his surroundings.  He’s no longer in 508.  He’s not hiding at 1317-1/2 either.  He looks around at the rows of beds and realizes where he is – the mental ward of the hospital.

11/2/05