Gee Willikers and the Haunted Penis–a story

Another Halloween story. I read this one last night at the Skelebration to end the night. Utterly ridiculous but fun to write, and again, if ya dig it, buy a book!

Gee Willikers and the Haunted Penis

My name is Gary, or George, or maybe it’s Gerry, it’s something like that. Whatever. You know, it’s a ‘G’ name, and if you have that then you’re as good as crapped, ya know? I wasn’t born with a good name, like Carol, or, or like Marvin, no, no, I was born with Gggggg…whatever. Oh, yeah, my memory is for shit too atop that name thing. Yeah, I was born with a crap flavored lollipop in my mouth. Oh, oh, yeah, I am hairy too. Not like a gorilla but it’s awkward nonetheless. It’s like, you know, you’re getting it on and the girl is goin’ south of the border and a minute later there’s coughin’ and the like and she comes up for air ’cause ya got the black forest on yer balls. It’s embarrassing, to say the least. Anyway, that’s me, G Willikers, Esquire, professional um, whatever it is. You don’t care about all that, do ya? Hell no. Ya care about my damned dong, not anything else. So, here it is.

Once upon a time I was in love. Not like, for real-real, like where ya get all sweaty palmed and wanna hug and stuff, no, this was the sorta where ya just wanna get naked and sweaty a lot then sober up and wander off for a good piss. I wouldn’t say I would marry the gal but I would certainly take her out to a nice burger joint and bang her for a good couple weeks. Her name was Dandelion, or, no, that was it, yeah, she was a sort of an earth girl, if ya follow me, and she worked at the local chicken shack. I would go in there every day on my lunch break, would order a thigh and a breast, naturally, and some slaw and would give the nickel left from the two-ninety-five lunch to her and would give a nice wink. Yeah, smooth, that’s me baby, real smooth. So after three months I go in there, all slicked up, new jeans and boots, and a real swell long sleeved shirt with those swirly things, um, paisley it was, and I went up to her and she was lookin’ good in her red outfit, the sleeves cut high so you could see her biceps, which were huge, and I gave her a wink and ordered. So she gives me my order and sorta smiles with as many teeth as she has, and in her sexy, deep, gruff voice tells me to keep the change. Ha. Me, the customer. That’s some funny shit from a chicken slinger. So all smooth I lean forward and take her and and tell her that she forgot to put something in my order. And she raises an eyebrow and asks what that is and I lean close and whisper to her – some leg.

Yeah, we fucked.

It was pretty great.

I was awesome.

Yup.

And that was that. I had wanted to bang her for so long, and it was pretty much like one of those foreign pornos from the eighties – all hair, sweat, and illegal motion in the back field. After it was done though it was just, you know, over. Done. I just didn’t have anything to say. See, I am simple man. I like simple things, like sex, toast, beer, and the occasional Asian massage. And that’s about it. I’ll throw down on some Pong here and there but usually I just spend my time hangin’ out and, uh, whatever. Anyway so I am there, in bed with this chick, and she’s still got her big chicken hat on still, which I had thought was hot during the sex but now seemed silly. And it’s me and her, her and me, and we’re both naked and she cuddles up to me and lifts a leg and lets one rip and then giggles and cuddles closer. So I wait until I can hear her snores and can feel the drool running down my chest and slowly, so slowly I slide out from under her grasp and off the bed. I pull my jeans on quickly, pulled on some filthy jam rag shirt I had and barrel rolled out of there and laid low at the pornos for the day. I drove back by at nine and saw her hatchback still sitting in my driveway, and shit, it was gonna be one of those, wasn’t it. I sat in the street a minute then peeled out and headed for The all night big and tall sale and spent the evening trying on suits I would never buy. Classy, that’s me.

By the time I finally cruised by my home she was gone but then so were all my collectible plates and collectible glasses from famous Nascar drivers. They were all smashed into bits on my front porch. Meh, it happens. What can I say, break ups are never easy? And that was that, I gave her her space and went to Space Burger for a couple weeks and then figured it was time to go back for some chicken. I slid in there and caught her gaze immediately. Sure, the sparks were still there but you know, I can’t be tied down, not to one lady, and besides, that weird tattoo on her as was distracting. I went up and ordered my usual, all smiles, knowing she felt what I felt, and she smiled, all teeth, well, you know, and a lot of gums, and she leaned in and whispered to me – I remembered, you just love the thigh. I looked and wouldn’t ya know it, she had slipped me an extra piece, a thigh, and didn’t even charge extra. Well, if I wasn’t against the whole settling thing then I might make her my whatever it is ya do with a chick. I took my meal and sat down and I tell ya what, that thigh was spicy, but it was the best piece of chicken I ever ate.

Well, it was the best chicken I ever ate until I got the trots come midnight and spent the rest of the night shitting a chocolate river like it was Christmas. I was finally empty by noon the next day and crashed out on the couch and dreamt. The dreams were only fragments, like flipping through television channels and trying to catch the storyline of ten shows but I got the gist – cursed. The thigh had been cursed and so was I. Cursed. I woke with a start and ran to the bathroom and screamed.

Werewolf.

She’d made me a were…wait, wait a sec, no, no, it’s just me. I am just that damned hairy. Shit.

I took a breath and stripped to shower the funk from me and stepped under the water and that was when I saw it. My dick. My dick was haunted. I looked down and saw my immense ma…ok, ,my average sized, if not a little smaller, penis was glowing orange and had a Jack-O-Lantern’s grin carved in it. I poked my finger into the mouth hole and felt it go in a little. I screamed. I screamed a lot. And as I screamed, so did my penis, the eyes narrowing and the mouth opening wide to let out a howl. I danced around under the hot water and felt a burning pain from down below and looked down to see that my penis was holding its breath. It was suffocating. I mean, dicks can’t breathe under water, can they? Of course not. I jumped out of the shower and felt the fire slowly subside and looked down to see if the little guy, I mean the big guy was ok and he gave me a wink to tell me he was. I smiled down at him but that smile quickly faded as I saw that my little guy was nestled in deep green grass and that two big yellow gourds were hidden behind him. I fell face first into the toilet and puked up the pork chops I had had for breakfast the day before. Yup, it was gonna be one of those sorta days. I wandered over to the couch and plopped down on it and propped my chin on my elbows and stared down at my dick.

And so passed the day, me all nude and hungry and smelly and my dick all WOOOOing and BOOOOing. It was cute for a little while, then annoying, then sorta cute again. My penis made this little face when it was trying to be scary and, well, it was just damned adorable. As cute as it was though, I had shit to do and needed to do it. I looked down at my dick and sorta smiled, sorta shrugged, and stood up, which made him boo all the more. This wasn’t gonna work so I walked over to the phone book and looked in the green pages, where all the Discount Exorcists were and picked one out and called. He’d be over in an hour so I made minute soup, which, for me, usually took about an hour.

The Exorcist didn’t come alone, the geezer bringing with him some young kid with a mother complex. The old guy told me to lay down on the bed and if you ask me he lingered a bit when he was touching my wee man but he said he was a professional and you know, he knows best. Right? The old man put on a banana costume and his assistant put on a clown nose and they began doing a bunny hop around me. The bed wiggled, my dick howled, and I swear I saw some weird faces popping up all over that looked like my chicken queen.

“We have her on the ropes boy-o, we have her on the ropes!”

My penis let out another howl and I looked down and saw it was vomiting blood and soup all over the place and brother, that shit’s just gross. I coughed a couple times to hint that I wasn’t getting any younger and then suddenly I felt this great pain in my stomach and screamed aloud as it moved down me and exited from my rear with a great and thunderous boom and then the room shook and a foul smell filled the room.

“It is defeated. The curse has been lifted.”

The old man looked down at me and smiled as his assistant screamed out and jumped out my window. Weird kid, that one. I paid the old fella the thirty dollars, told him a new window would be twenty, and he left with me ten bucks poorer but with my penis all shiny and new and maybe, just maybe a little bigger. I got up and looked down and smiled. Yup, it was back, it was back and I was hungry. Hungry for chicken.

Yeah, seriously, I did it again. This time she got me with a cursed thigh though, and now it’s my ass that is cursed and has eyes and sings Sinatra. Not bad when yer in the shower but man, ya ever hear Sinatra shit out of his mouth? It’s a hell of an awful sound. So that’s me – genius. I should go though, I need to get the phone book and look up talent scouts. I can get this thing exorcised any time but man, imagine the tail I can get with a singing dumper?

Lesser Demons – a story

So, this year I have written five stories for Halloween and, as such, I will be posting all of them over the next couple days. Two will appear only for the day. One on this blog, one on my Tumblr. Then POOF they are gone. Hope you like them, and if you do, check to the right and you can find links to my books and you can order them online. I read this one last night at the Skelebration of Scares.

Lesser Demons

It’s always hard, the waiting, but then, without the waiting the meal wouldn’t be so sweet. The pursuit wouldn’t be so delicious. Waiting, watching, hunting and stalking, that is what those like me do, what we are born and bred to do, but when the moment comes, when the trap is sprung, well, there are few things better. No, no, there is nothing better. So I wait, because it is what I do.

It is the nature of the beast to hunt, to devour, and I am no different, though, it could be said that my methods are not the same as others of my ilk. For me, Halloween is the greatest night of the year, and what makes it great is the hunting. It has always, always been a great night for hunting. The night has always been full of magic but with the crispness of the air and the length of the shadows it makes things feel so natural for me, so perfect for hunting. Well, that and there is just so much prey. The streets are wild with the delighted screams of the children on Halloween night and I watch them run and shout and laugh and play from the safety of my hunting blind – a lovely place buried in the bushes near a thriving cul-de-sac. A happy place, a place of families, of children, and of laughter. I take so much joy from their joy. Watching the children on this night is a feast in and of itself and I could sit here for days just watching them, if that was all I was allowed to do. Ah, but I am on the hunt, and here for meat, so there is little time for partaking of the beauty of the season, as much as I may want to. I have other things to attend to. There is just such strong magic at work in the play of children, and I think it’s been forgotten, forgotten how wonderful and dangerous they are, but such are the times.

Even with all that happens on Halloween it’s the hunt that is the draw of the night and that is why I am here. I take up my perch, my blind, the evening of Devil’s Night, and hunker down into the hollow place in the earth I have made. For years I have come here, drawn to the simple happiness of these people as much as the prey, and for that time this place has proven to be very good hunting grounds. Ah, but when the prey dries up I will be off and away to another town, another place, and will make a new den but for now there is here, there is this, there is now. I hunker down in my blind and make myself part of the background by breathing with the wind and moving with the brush and waiting. I sleep through the day of Halloween, preserving my energy for the night and the hunt and when the temperature starts to fall I awake and make my preparations. One by one the street lights come on, and with them so too do the houselights, and as the sun slowly slips away the children begin leaving their homes to join the grim parade. From house to house to house the children go, their parents, those that come along, trailing far behind, too far behind, as their children rush around in search of candy and treats. Oh, but the parents, trying so hard not to crowd, trying to loosen the reigns if just for a night but never suspecting that there are predators out in the night watching their children, hunting them, and waiting to strike. Waiting to spring their trap.

Slowly, so slowly the night passes. I have been watching the street for hours, waiting for the perfect one, the one that has the right look, the right scent, and is at the perfect place for me to catch them. Waiting until it feels right. I have seen a few that fit my needs, that seemed almost perfect for me but still I waited, the hunger shaking my hands and making my stomach turn. Oh, but the waiting is the sweetest part. The waiting is the best part. It makes the hunt what it is. As much as the hunger may draw me, it’s the anticipation that keeps me here and stays my hand. Ah, and finally, finally all my waiting pays off and there, amongst the children, is the one I want – a ghost who has joined the pack but who is now trailing behind. The group passes me, then well back come the parents – two mothers, at least twenty paces back and dressed as witches – and twenty paces back from them is my prey, walking with a boy. The ghost is holding candy out to the boy, a cowboy, and the two walk slowly towards me, talking about how the night has gone. It is late and the streets are not nearly as crowded as things wind down and jack-o-lanterns are blown out and the celebrations move indoors.

I smile and can smell him, my target, the smell sweet like candy but sour beneath, sour with the scent of sweat and fear. I move into a crouch and watch as they approach.

The cowboy seems to sense something is wrong, his new friend offering more candy and speaking faster, trying to keep the boy there. The cowboy quickens his pace and the ghost matches it, laughing nervously as he looks around the neighborhood. Up ahead one of the other children calls after the cowboy and the ghost stops as the boy takes a step away, then another, then turns and runs after his friends, yelling to them as he goes. The ghost seems to sense me and takes a clumsy step towards me in my den and I can taste him in the air. I smile wide and take what is mine.

The ghost is the only prey of the night but he is enough, his flesh sweet with its corruption and his soul sweeter with its shadows. When I grab him from the bushes he lets out a startled cry but in an instant he is with me, in my blind, my den, my home, and when he realizes I am no mere parent, that I am no police officer come to finally end his crimes, when he realizes I am a predator just like him it isn’t a scream he gives me but a whisper, a whisper before I devour his head whole.

“Oh god…”

His blood is sweet on my tongue, his bones like candy, and I swallow him in three bites and when I am done and bathed in his scent, I let out a satisfied belch and scratch absently at my belly. As the children leave the streets and the lights go out one by one I stretch and stand up and am a great black shadow spreading my form out and out and out and moving to join the other shadows as they leave their dens to come out to play. There are a great many days and a great many ways in which to hunt for prey but for like as me the sweetest meat comes from a fellow predator, one that feeds on the young. Oh, we lesser demons, we creatures of the dark, are not much for sentiment but I love this night, and know I am not alone. I quickly catch up to my brethren and it is laughter, black and cold, which sends the world into uneasy sleep this night, as we make our ways back home, happy and well fed.

Home Movie – review

Home Movie – review

 

It isn’t a modern notion certainly, but there is something about modern technology which makes home movies seems all the more prevalent than they were in the past. Sure, sure, people made them before but now it’s so much easier to document the life and minutia of the modern family that it’s harder to find people who don’t film or photograph everything they do than it is to find people that do. Such is the world of Home Movie, a film done in the ‘found film’ style that features the home movies of a family on the brink of Hell. And as with all things of this nature, the bitter irony is always that you the viewer can see too well how quickly disaster is coming while the people living it cannot.

 

Home Movie is the story of a family via its home movies. The family almost obsessively videotapes every moment of importance (and lots of incidental ones as well) they share, the holidays, the birthdays, and even the every day. This is a family trying desperately to create solidarity by forging moments that unite them while they are tearing themselves apart. The family consists of the preacher father, the psychiatrist mother, and an inseparable brother and sister. The family is attractive, well off, and there is no shortage of love in the hearts of the parents but something is wrong here. Something is wrong with the children. We find out during one of the videos that the children had done something at school that forced the parents to move far out to the country to try to restart their lives and to save their children from their misdeeds. It doesn’t take long though for the viewer to see that whatever is wrong with the children is still wrong. What seems like mere pranks and acting up takes on a darker tint as the film progresses and their transgressions and misdeeds get darker and far more deadly. Their mother and father try in their own ways to hold the family together but always the children are gnawing at their roots. Too late the parents realize how dangerous their children are as they turn their attentions on a fellow classmate and their games turn deadly. It will take an act of sheer will and love for these parents to save the family, but even their best efforts may be too late.

 

Wow, what en effective little creeper. I had never heard of this movie and it was definitely one that snuck up on me. I know a lot of people get tired of certain sub-genres and this is one of those that really rubs people the wrong way but for me, when they are done right, they are just so effective. So powerful. This is one of those cases. It’s flawed, for sure, but we’ll get to that.

There is a growing dread that begins as soon as the film does and doesn’t let up. The pacing is great here, and works very well to create a palpable tension. The acting too is very good and the adults make this feel like a family, like two parents trying to save their children. I also love the restraint shown by the filmmakers. We are definitely shown how evil these children are but never do things go so far that it becomes a gore show or over the top. Enough is shown to make the point but not to belabor it.

 

I think the biggest issue I had was that it does get a bit far fetched in these types of movies how it seems that EVERYTHING that happens is filmed. It happens, sure, but man, everything? But on that, they do a good job of making it seem that the camera either exacerbated things or just happened to be on. There is also a turn in the plot when the father turns to his faith to save his children and it’s a bit much. No, it’s a lot much. It does add an element to the film we had not considered – is the evil in these children something supernatural? – but the way it is handled is pretty over the top and takes you out of the film for a few moments.

 

There is good, there is bad, but overall, darn I really like this film. The end disappointed me in how it played out but I cannot complain with how it all comes together. It’s just one of those things where I cared enough about the film and the story to want to see something else – not a bad thing, just a thing. This is not a great film, and isn’t the best example of this genre (we forget Man Bites Dog a bit I think) but it’s an effective and chilling film that will scare the heck out of young parents. To tell you how much I enjoyed it, despite the score I may give it, I still shiver a little at how things play out. Yipes. That’s a heck of a film.

 

7.5 out of 10

The Skelebration of Scares

Oh, there’s a chill in the air kids, can you feel it? Can you hear the howls of things long dead as they waken for their feasts? Can you sense the shadows as they move in the darkness. Are you ready for a Skelebration?

The Halloween season means a lot of things to a lot of people but for me and some local writers this year’s season means another Skelebration of Scares. This is a celebration of the art and telling of scary stories. Several authors gather together to tell stories fitting for the season in the hopes of chilling some blood. Last year’s event was a great way to begin but this year we really have it in for the audience, I mean, uh, we really are bringing the fun. Along with stories we will have chilling art, terrifying tunes, a grim photobooth, and a person who can see into your future.

And it’s all free.

I have been writing stories for this event and am up to four and have a vague idea what one I want to read but am still smoothing out the rough edges. I have a couple fun stories I could read but time is doubtful. It WILL be a great place to meet me though, see or buy some art, and pick up my books. Yes, yes, yes, dear fiend. And don’t forget the other talented and scarifying authors and artists that will be on hand.

Here’s the press release –

Welcome one, and welcome all, to The Skelebration of Scares, a multi-ring circus of terror. The wind has grown chill, friends, and the time has come again for the ghouls to leave the darkness of their tombs and to roam the land once more. We invite you, neighbor, to join us in the relatively creature free Lunch Studio in downtown Flint on October 29th from 7PM – 10PM.

Oh, and what wonderful horrors do we have in store for you, neighbor. Stories told to chill your bones, photos to capture your soul, art to make the eyes bleed, music to burn your ears, and a person who can look into the future and tell you what may lay ahead.

We cannot promise that the things in the dark won’t come near, neighbor, but I can promise you that this shall be a night of scares you won’t soon forget.

This is a free event. Costumes are not required but encouraged.

*Parent discretion is advised – stories may be too intense for younger listeners.*

For more information contact CHRIS RINGLER at – grimringler@gmail.com

Skelebration of Scares

Friday, October 29^th

The Lunch Studio, downtown Flint

7PM – 10PM

FREE

The New Guy

Another new painting. Love the heck out of the guy. I wanted him to be all ‘RARRRRR, I am gonna eat you up!” but, alas, he’s just too cute.

Acrylic on canvas. Rarr!

All About Tone

If there is one thing that has been driving me batty of late it’s tone, and how many people don’t understand how to use it. As I write this I am watching a ridiculous film called Satan’s Little Helper which is utterly atrocious but what gets me is that this is supposed to be a comic horror film, only, well, it ain’t funny. The story is silly yet the tone is so weird because you don’t want to laugh when the pregnant lady is hit with a shopping cart or the main character’s father is eviscerated in front of the family. I suppose the intent is comedy but, like I said, the tone is all wrong – it isn’t played broad enough to be funny. The thing with comedy in a horror film is you have pretty much two ways to play it – over the top, or hardline. Over the top you get into the realm of farce, which can be great if done well, or you can go hardline and go for black comedy – something dark but so ridiculous that you can laugh at it. Something like The Human Centipede is black comedy, even if they didn’t intend it, though it’s hard to think they didn’t. The film is play so straight, and so serious that it becomes absurd at times. The problem, and the boon of the film, is that it also works as a very creepy thriller. It’s crazy to me though how many filmmakers don’t get something as simple as tone right.

There is a weird resurgence of films aping the ’70s nasties that have become so beloved by horror fans. These are movies that brought a sense of reality to their stories and which reflected an age where free love was dead and war and fear ruled the airwaves. The films of the seventies were good because they were so different than what had come before. They brought a dark sense of realism to a genre that had too often played dumb. This resurgence though has bred some movies that like the nastiness of the old favorites but which add some unneeded humor to things. I have seen far too many rape/revenge movies of late (for those not in the know, this was a type of horror film which dealt with a woman being attacked then getting her revenge on the perpetrators at the end of the film) that try to be funny when, really, there isn’t a lot funny about the subject. It’s all the worse that the filmmakers mix a scene of hardcore violence with aspects of broad humor, thus creating something that is actually more unsettling than seeing the scene played straight.

Tone is everything. With the right tone you can frighten, amuse, pull at the heartstrings, or enlighten people but done poorly, you mock the very things you are trying to portray. Ugh. It drives me nutty. Maybe they just don’t get subtlety. Maybe they don’t. Maybe because some people actually enjoy junk like Satan’s Little Helper (and trust me, it looks like people not only like but love this horrible film), a film that is too darn dark to be as funny and clever as it thinks it is. All I know is that tone, like I said, is everything. Go into a haunted house and even if it is cheesy, if it is played straight, is played to scare you, with people who care working it – then it has a good chance of scaring you. Give the same attraction a lot of money, a lot of corny actors, and a lot of corny effects that are too over the top and you lose your audience and fail at the core thing you were trying to do.

You have to know what you are doing, what you are trying to convey, and what you want people to walk away with when it’s over. In the end, someone out there will get a kick out of, whatever it is, but if you end up betraying what you were intending to do in the process then what good is what you made? And if you lessen that work by misrepresenting it then, again, what was the point?

And trust me, I am asking that a lot these days.

New Art and Another Fun Event is Over

The year is winding down and as it does, so do the events I am in. This past weekend I did the second Books and Authors event put on by Leon & Lulu’s down in Clawson, Michigan. Leon & Lulu’s is a fun and funky furniture and knick knack store set up in an old roller rink. It’s hard to sum up what they sell exactly other than to say…a little of everything. This year’s event was another well run machine with even more authors than last year (double I think) and just as much energy. I only sold a couple books but it’s hard to complain when there’s free snacks, energetics staff and authors surrounding you, and you get to sit on a terribly comfy couch all day. I spent most of the day chilling on the couch with the lady but managed to snap a few fun pics of the store. You’ll also find my newest painting. Acrylic on canvas and such.

To Drive-Ins…

Quick fact – the first horror film I ever saw was Friday the 13th at the drive-in. We’re talking 1980 kids, so this is way back when I was six. Now, when I say I ‘saw’ it I mean that I heard it and saw the end and was freaked the heck out. The second feature, I think, was Pieces, though I cannot guarantee it. From what I heard (I wasn’t allowed to really watch the movies, having been taken by a cousin and my sister and someone else) it seems right, but who can say? That was my first experience with the drive-in, and far from my last.

Man do I love drive-ins.

There is strange magic at work at a drive-in, magic that we are losing, year by year, and there’s little it seems we can do to stop that. You see, once upon a time the drive-in was a place where families could spend an affordable night out together and could spend time together outdoors with their neighbors. Once upon a time the drive-in was the top of the pops – you got two movies, some cartoons maybe, a stocked snack bar, and a playground for the kids. Oh, and if you were a little older then the drive-in was the perfect place to take a date for a long night of backseat wrestling. It’s hard to appreciate it now but in the fifties, this was as good as it got for many people. Sure, traditional theaters were great places but there was just that magic of the drive-in, and there was nothing to compare. Things changed over time and slowly but surely the drive-in died out. Weather, technology, and the ever changing public opinion just made it less and less attractive to visit the places. It didn’t help that the drive-in was a perfect place for less pleasant people out to get a little drunk, a little stoned, and cause a little trouble. Drive-ins became sketchier, older, and more run down and the owners started to not spend a much money or time on keeping their properties up and it became a perfect storm for failure. Now, the idea of hitting a drive-in seems ridiculous. It’s easier to go to a megaplex, sit in comfortable seats, have a wide variety of snacks, and it’s less of a time investment. The thing is though that there’s still that magic at the drive-ins that remain, a magic that hasn’t left, but is fading fast.

Where I live, in Flint, Michigan, we have one surviving drive-in left in our area. There were two up until two years ago and then none, but some brave souls bought one of the two and re-opened it, being so bold to even add a third screen. I couldn’t have been happier. Drive-ins are a part of Americana, and a part of the dream America that so many people have, that I hate to see them fade away forever. As great as our local drive-in is – and it is pretty boss, it has epic popcorn, and last year for Halloween they had a haunted house and were showing scary movies, which was pretty boss – I am desperately afraid that it won’t last. Too many drive-ins get stuck in the mentality of old, trying to compete with the megaplexes and trying to stay up with the hottest movies, and that’s fine, to a degree, but they cannot survive that way. They have to differentiate themselves and think outside the box. Does that mean you play only cult and classic movies? Heck no. You have to have the big movies for the average family or the people wanting to just take in a show, but you have to also remember that it will always be more attractive to go to the megaplex. You have to offer an evening, an experience, a memory. You have to think outside the box if you are going to survive.

So what does it mean?

It means offering movies that other places aren’t – some classics or cult movies, to be sure. Maybe not always but once in a while. Get the right movies, and advertise, and make it an event, you will pack the place.

Better food selection.   People can pig the heck out at a drive-in, so let them. Offer more food and drinks than the average. Maybe set up a small restaurant/cafe.

Keep families in mind. Have a safe playground, with lighting…in the back. That way kids can be loud and have fun, and not be in people’s line of sight. Have picnic tables for families. Make sure you show features that families can attend from time to time.

Embrace the colleges. If you are blessed with colleges, then try to do college nights. Or any sort of discount nights. You want the people there. You may lose some money at the box office but you make it up on concessions.

Invest in good equipment. Maybe it’s better speakers, or a good radio signal, or good projectors, just do the minimum to offer a watchable movie.

And finally…think…out…of…the…box.

I don’t own a drive-in, so I don’t know how hard it is to run one. Completely, utterly true. It has to be scary, and expensive, and frustrating to say the least but really, if you are not in it for the love of the drive-ins themselves then you are in the wrong business. But I know drive-ins. I know what they were, are, and what they can be. I know that there is still a soft spot for them in all our hearts. And I know that they can survive, if they try. If they stop trying to be the megaplexes. The drive-in offers a more meaningful and intimate experience that is less about the movies on the screen and more about the way you experience them. This year I celebrated my birthday at the drive-in, and the movies were lame, but the friends were great, the atmosphere was amazing, and the popcorn, brother, the popcorn was epic. We all deserve to have that experience every once in a while. Here’s hoping we get that chance.

c

This Weekend…

This Sunday I will be selling The Meep Sheep at Leon & Lulu’s Books and Authors event. Super fun event and it’s for a good cause, so if you are in the Detroit area you should totally come.

 

Sunday, October 10th

11 a.m. to 5 p.m.

Benefit for Beyond Basics

Sponsored by ICU Eyewear and Leon & Lulu

Celebrate reading and writing, get new glasses and help promote literacy all at the same time!

Leon & Lulu will celebrate reading and writing with

its second annual Books & Authors event.

 

We love to read and we just adore writers so we are giving nearly 40 Michigan authors space to sell and sign their books, meet their fans and help promote literacy in Michigan. Shoppers will enjoy refreshments, live entertainment and support Beyond Basics, a 501(c)(3) non-profit corporation offering reading, writing and expanding horizons enrichment programs to students attending public schools in Metro Detroit.

 

The Books & Authors event is co-sponsored by ICU Eyewear, purveyor of fun and fancy reading glasses. ICU has donated a limited quantity of fashionable and funky reading glasses, which will be sold the weekend of the event for $17 (regular retail $22).

All proceeds from the sale of the reading glasses, tips and raffle money

will also benefit Beyond Basics.

 

Entertainment will be provided by Trio Fiori

(Jeffrey Beyer, flute; Theresa Stacy, violin; Sharon Sweet, piano)

 

For more information, check out leonandlulu.com/books.

Leon & Lulu is located at 96 West 14 Mile Road in Clawson, Michigan.

248-288-3600 www.leonandlulu.com

 

Located in a former roller rink turned gifts, accessories, and home furnishing store, Leon & Lulu supports the community through in store non-profit events. In 2009, the store held 61 events, with 51 benefiting non-profits.

 

Service Street Fair 2010

A couple weeks back I was able to take part in this year’s Service Street Fair down in Detroit. This is a small fair that takes place just as Fall is beginning down a side street near Detroit’s Farmer’s Market. The street is home to a lot of artists and indie scene folks and both years I have done the show were fun. Sadly this year, like last, had pretty rotten weather, which kept people away but it was still a good time. You have to love and admire people putting these small shows together for the sheer love of it. Good music, great people, and lot of talented people and it was a pleasure to be out there, despite nearly freezing to death.