Party At Sheckler's

by Alan Spencer

  I have everything I need to send Sheckler off in style.

  The final part of the plan had clicked into place.

  The killer couldn't wait to count how many gallons of blood would be shed tonight.

  Putrid kept to himself for awhile. That left Dominic and Trudy to occupy themselves. The movie playing on the television had changed to a new feature. Now playing was Rent-A-Death. This was one of Sheckler's finest works made for only fifty thousand dollars.

  The plot, an exclusive company catered to the well-off upper class. The service, you can buy your own death. The main character of the story, a corporate lawyer, has a history of reoccurring nightmares of drowning, burning, or being stabbed to death by scary men. This trauma has affected the character enough to look into this high-end special service. The strange service guy at the special office, much like a car salesman with hints of Satanism about his office, shows the lawyer a book of deaths he can choose from.

  The movie gets interesting fast, he remembered. Something goes wrong, and it's revealed the deaths can't be delivered as promised. Instead of being easy ways to die, they become twisted and insane demises beyond imagination.

  Dominic was so into the scene playing now that Trudy had to turn his head in her direction.

  "Hello, horror boy. Over here. I asked you a question."

  "Huh? Sorry."

  "How did you become such a fan of horror movies? I'm surprised I didn't ask you by now. I guess now that we're in this limo with Mr. Wonderful over there, now's a good of time to ask as any."

  "That's a really easy question to answer. As you know, my birth mother gave me up for adoption. She was only seventeen at the time. I met her once about two years ago. She's a nice woman. She apologized to me, and she wanted to know if my adoptive family was good to me. They were very good to me. I have an awesome, if not overbearing, older brother, and my parents were great. I miss them. They died young. I won't go into the details.

  "Anyway, I really hit it off with my father. He owned a mom and pop video store called Pizzazz Video. When I wasn't at school or doing homework, I camped out at that place. I got to eat all the popcorn from the movie theatre style popper and ate my weight in licorice. I got to see every movie that came out. I even snuck in the back to peek at the porno. The place was seedy, now that I look back. The place was probably a front for porn. It feels like almost all mom and pops were fronts for porn.

  "That is what I like about horror and cult movies. It explores the forbidden. Just like porn, but it's not the same. Everything behind that nasty curtain, those movies show you in graphic detail. Fearlessness and ineptitude clash and create something truly entertaining.

  "I had the best time at my dad's store. Unfortunately, it closed down once Blockbuster moved into town. My dad went back into trucking, and no more video store. The store closing kick started my collection. Any movie I wanted, my dad let me take. I had videos as tall as my little boy head surrounding my bed. My mom wanted me to get rid of them, but my dad always used the argument, "You know how much money I paid for those? He's keeping them."

  "It's not just movies. Halloween used to be a bigger deal. Kids actually trick-r-treated. I sound old and weepy, but those were the best times. It doesn't sound as fun being a kid anymore. Everybody's too scared some real life boogeyman is going to hurt them or tell them about grown-up things too early.

  "Maybe I like those specific movies because they came out when it was still fun being a kid. Holidays mattered. Movies were better. Parents didn't feel like they had to shield their kids from every little thing out there in the world. A kid could actually make mistakes and learn from them and live a little. I sound cheesy. Sorry. It's all a nostalgia thing. I think that's why so many people buy our movies. They're from that time period. It's retro. Movies will never be like that ever again."

  Trudy kissed him. "Well put. This is why I like you so much."

  The limo pulled over. They were at a gas station. The driver rolled down the window. Slab said he needed to fill up on gas, and this was a good time for a pit stop. When they got out to stretch, Dominic and Trudy noticed the other people at the gas pumps were eyeballing the "the butcher" nervously.

  They had a good laugh over that.

  The rest of the drive to Sheckler's mansion went by fast. Putrid opened up about his TV show and let go of his bitterness to talk about everyday life. One story was especially fascinating.

  One of his real estate clients recognized him as Putrid Peter and said he would buy the house if he was willing to dress up as his character and take a picture stabbing his wife with a fake axe.

  Later, they chatted more about Cult Crushers. Putrid grew interested in Trudy's role in the deal, especially the parts involving being a scantily clad girl posing on the webpage. Putrid went as far as writing down the web address.

  Dominic saw his chance to throw out a pitch, so he did.

  "I know you got burned on that deal with Sheckler. I'm not Sheckler. I'll write up a contract. I'll give you a royalty percentage. Would you be interested in doing your Putrid Peter character to host some movie releases? I got a package of old horror films that are cool, but to say they're great would be a stretch."

  "They're steaming piles of turds," Trudy laughed. "A turkey's a turkey, and a turd is a turd. You can interrupt the movie every few minutes and make jabs at their horribleness."

  The wheels were turning in Putrid's head.

  "Only if you join me as Gory Girl. I like to have jokes written out ahead of time. I don't ad lib."

  Trudy smiled. "Sure. I'll read from a bunch of cue cards. I'm in."

  "I won't shake on it," Dominic said. "I'll put it in ink. We'll talk terms. I'll come to you and make it convenient according to your schedule. If later you decide you're not into it, that's totally okay. I only want you involved if you're digging what we do."

  Putrid Peter handed him his business card. The name under his realty job was Peter Gates.

  The limo slowed. The glass divider between driver and passengers was lowered. Slab informed them they were about twenty minutes from the mansion.

  "I'm taking a bunch of back roads. Truth be told, Sheckler lives out in the middle of nowhere. I mean no neighbors in either direction. Word is the guy wanted the hell out of Hollywood in a hurry after he made that Tom Hanks movie that bombed. I guess he became tired of the whole movie making game. I met him before taking this job. He's a nice old man. Sorry to see him in such poor health. He said chain smoking his whole life did it. I guess making movies is a stressful business. It's not all champagne suppers and caviar.

  "Anyway, thought you'd guys like to know why I'm taking a bunch of weird roads. Not all of them are paved either. The ride will get bumpy. You guys sit tight. Soon enough, you guys will be having a killer night. Keep helping yourself to drinks in the meantime."

  The three watched out the windows. Slab was right. The winding back roads went from paved to unpaved randomly. The woods all around them were thick. This was the Midwest, Iowa, and in the middle of nowhere.

  They passed an abandoned farm. The only things that remained of the acreage was barbed wire perimeters and a caved in stable. An old weather beaten sign was staked into the dirt reading: PIGS FOR RENT.

  They kept going on for miles and miles. Then out of the clearing, there was the Sheckler mansion. A gated perimeter surrounded the property. The place was huge, and Dominic couldn't believe he was actually going to visit the legend's home.

  "Are you ready for this?" Trudy asked. "I'm so excited I could pee."

  "I bet Sheckler's bathrooms are crazy. Can you imagine what twisted fixtures the guy's got in that place?"

  Putrid huffed. "Whatever. The guy's a selling out piece of crap. I just want my apology."

  "I think you'll get it," Dominic said. "Stay positive. Don't let it ruin the fun. This is a once in a lifetime event."

  The ex-horror host shook his head in disagreement.

  The gates opened on their own, and the limousine en
tered the Sheckler estate.

  Slab escorted them out of the limo and brought them to the entrance of the mansion. Hanging from the marble columns and dangling from the porch's ceiling were latex zombie monsters reaching down to grab your head. A red carpeted walkway snaked out the front door. At each side of the carpet were glass caskets in standing positions. The front of the casket would open by itself randomly to reveal the scary green witch from Ride the Witch. The muscle bound Frankenstein with fanged teeth from Fracula would lunge from the casket with arms extended. A giant tick creature with blue and orange shag carpet on its back from Carpet Munchers would wriggle its jagged mandible, ooze green from its maw, and hide back into the casket. A young girl in a prom dress clutching a bundle of dynamite from Prom Bomb would point at the time ticking down on the explosives with a lurid smile. Throbbing synthesizer music shook the ground from multiple speakers. Add to the music, random dialogue would sound from Sheckler's movies.

  "This is blood? This is blood!"

  "You sure can't get a decent hand job hell, now can you?"

  "That monster went right for his crotch. Why do they always go for the crotch?"

  "You can't bulldoze an insane asylum before consulting the Vatican. Didn't they know that?"

  "But Father, nobody's ever performed an exorcism on a dog before!"

  "Toads aren't supposed to have hooves. That's basic science."

  "These zombies were supposed to stay frozen. Why on God's green earth did you thaw them out?"

  "You play heavy metal on this guitar too loud, the succubus will come, and hell will be right behind her. Don't you dare turn up that amplifier to its full volume."

  "It might be the best pie in Tallahassee, but look at the filling. Those aren't cherries."

  Dominic was sucked into the spectacle of the moment. He locked arms with Trudy and walked up the red carpet. He tipped Slab. The driver thanked them and returned to his limo. A dozen other limos were parked beside Slab's. The drivers were sitting inside, waiting, smoking, reading books, and generally milling around. They would take them home in the morning, he guessed. That meant he could get drunk and crazy tonight.

  Trudy asked, "What are you thinking about?"

  "How much fun we're going to have tonight."

  The swell of conversation could be heard from inside. He didn't expect this many people to be attending Sheckler's party. Easily hundreds.

  Putrid Peter joined them for a moment before blending into the crowd. "Don't let Sheckler sweet talk you into anything. Always have a contract. You're nice people. I don't want anything bad happening to you. Sheckler screwed me. He won't hesitate to screw you. Now I'm going to find myself a free drink and take it all in."

  That's what Putrid did.

  And that's what they did.

  The front room was a giant greeting space. Furniture had been cleared out. A long bar had been built with nine bartenders at the ready to serve up drinks. They each wore various masks. The masks were all from the movie Gore Poor, where a guy makes his own latex Halloween masks with cheap materials and sells it to the local children only for them to turn into the creature they're wearing. Bartenders were ogres, demons with bulbous red eyes, rabid dogs with giant pink jowls, and goblins. The lights were completely off, leaving only the muted red lights from the ceiling to paint the scene. Dominic imagined a bar where monsters gathered to have fun and get drunk.

  He attached names to the faces in the big crowd. Skip Whitley, for starters. Skip was the guy dressed in a button up shirt covered in brightly covered parrots, blue jeans, and sneakers. He did the special FX for many of Sheckler's films.

  Reece Minton was another face. He was a business looking guy in his late sixties. He wore a silver suit, fancy shoes, and was smoking a thick stogie. Reece was a financer of many of Sheckler's earlier films.

  Hank Baggs was yet another familiar face. He played the Frankstein/Dracula hybrid monster in Fracula. Hank could've doubled as a wrestler with his thick refrigerator body.

  Dominic greeted Hank. "I loved you in Fracula. Great acting. Classic movie."

  Hank's tough face brightened with a smile. "Gee thanks, pal. I get still get fan mail from all kinds of people from many countries. I recently heard about a porno rip-off. Every time there's lightening in the sky, Frankenstein gets a hard on. It's called Fuckula. Funny, right?"

  After exchanging a few more pleasantries, they found themselves deeper in the crowd. Four of Sheckler's ex-wives were standing on the fringes of the group. They were dressed for the Oscars instead of a horror party. The women looked uncomfortable around each other and around the guests. He imaged frightened cats moments from scratching somebody's eyes out.

  One of Sheckler's exes, Beverly, recognized Dominic from previous horror conventions. Beverly was a supermodel back in the late sixties. She was known to show her breasts only when monsters were attacking her, claiming it would keep guys from sexually gratifying themselves to her nudity.

  Beverly starred in three of Sheckler's movies. She was also Sheckler's first wife. He thought of her now as a version of Goldie Hawn, add tons of extreme plastic surgery. When Dominic pressed her for stories about Sheckler, she gave in.

  "I should've known not to marry that jerk by how our wedding ceremony turned out. He invited people from his film in progress, Hungry Zombies Eat Everybody, just so he could secretly film them and use it in the movie. After we cut the cake, he had about twelve zombies come at the guests. Three of them were really well made up with actual maggots glued to their faces with God knows what. One had a cow's tongue strapped to his jaw with dental floss. The maid of honor threw up. My father got fake blood all over his rented suit. The zombies got to partake of our food. Can you imagine oatmeal-faced zombies chowing down on food in the middle of your wedding? Only Sheckler. I still loved him despite all of that. He was such a funny guy. It's too bad he two-timed me to bang his lead girl in one of his other shit fest movies. You're such a nice guy, Dominic. You wouldn't do that to your lady, would you?"

  Beverly didn't let him answer. Her face went from nostalgic to ice cold mean. "Have you see that old idiot around?"

  "No."

  "If you see him, tell him Beverly's got some words for him."

  She blended back into the crowd.

  He didn't have time to be concerned.

  John Gerkins, the skinny smiling jackal, vigorously shook Dominic's hand. He was Sheckler's director of photography, publicity man, and a jack of all trades on the production side of things. The man worked with Sheckler for almost twenty years.

  "Hey, look who it is. I'm glad you made it out, Dominic. I was just talking to Skip, that old special effects ace himself. We talked about how Sheckler wouldn't pay for locations, and he didn't like paying background extras in his movies. I would have my cameras rolling from a street corner, or in a moving van, and I would shoot the actors spouting lines at complete strangers, or running from monsters that weren't there. I'm surprised the police didn't bust us a dozen times over again. You can really tell in some of the movies. Whenever something happens in the city, the unwitting background extras are either scared, confused, or laughing.

  "I shouldn't dog on it. The guy kept me in work for damn near twenty years. Then he up and leaves me for Hollywood. Suddenly he forgets who his real friends are. Plus, the guy owed me a bunch of money. Everybody used to say Sheckler's paychecks were made of rubber because they always bounced. Every time I asked him about the checks bouncing, the payroll dodger would say, 'There's been a clerical error. Give it five to nine business days and get back to me. I'm incredibly sorry.' He would always say 'incredibly sorry'. The thing is, he promised to pay me back every penny. I gave up on that lost cause a lot time ago. I guess his health issues have really given him some perspective. This party certainly isn't on the cheap."

  Another person grabbed John and handed him a drink. John was already diving into another conversation, leaving Dominic behind. Trudy met back up with him. He wasn't sure where she had went, but he
re she was again.

  "You've been hobnobbing without a drink. That's not healthy. What's your poison?"

  Dominic said a scotch and soda.

  Once Trudy headed over to the bar, two people approached him. He recognized them immediately. One was Stan Barton. He was in his early forties and dressed in an expensive suit. He had thick turtle shell glasses and a pompous entitled face. Dominic wanted to slug him every time he saw the creep.

  Stan Barton was owner and creator of Mad Medusa Releasing. Stan released old school horror movies like Dominic's operation did, except Stan had millions of dollars backing him. He inherited the cash from his rich parents who were oil tycoons from Texas. Mad Medusa could pay for crazy expensive promotions and shell out the dollars for film restorations and fly out actors and directors to fancy hotels to do commentary tracks and interviews.

  While Dominic had to budget and save for those expenses, Stan Barton could throw around money and dominate the market. Cult Crushers would always be in second place as long as Mad Medusa Releasing was up and running.

  Stan shook Dominic's hand with that "I know I'm better than you" smugness.

  "Dominic! So nice to see you here. Today's the big day. I've been looking forward to this for awhile now. Sheckler said this would be a party to remember. He offered me transportation, but I have my own means. I told him to save his money for someone else."

  Yeah. That someone's me, right? Dick wad.

  "Has Sheckler made an appearance yet?"

  "Nobody's seen him," Stan said. "I've asked around. Dominic, here's someone you should meet."

  Dominic couldn't lie. Stan's friend was breathtaking. This woman had blonde dreadlocks and wore a red and black bodice that cinched up her body into an hourglass figure. She had a pale white face in the shape of a china doll's. She wore a cat's tail and contact lenses to give her striking cat eyes. That was her thing, being Calico Minx, Mad Medusa's model and personality. She often wore a headpiece with snakes coming out of her head in various states of undress ranging from tame cheesecake poses, or if you signed on that you were eighteen or older on the webpage, you could see her more lurid poses. Calico was an ex-porn star, current b-movie actress, and ex-death metal queen from the band Gash Gusher. One of the band's songs lyrics was, "When I'm on the rag, I'll put you in a body bag."