to God come to this have place forsaken don't You :P: December 2008

December 30, 2008

The only good indian is a dead indian

1408
Art Pupil
Bag of Bones?
Boogeyman
Carrie/Carrie II (Rage)
Cat's Eye
Children of the Corn/II/III/IV/V/VI/VII/VIII
Christine
Creepshow/Creepshow II
Cujo
Dark Half
Dead Zone
Desperation
Diary Of Ellen Rimbauer
Dolan's Cadillac?
Dolores Claiborne
Dreamcatcher
Firestarter
Ghosts !
Golden Years
Graveyard Shift
Green Mile
Hearts in Atlantis
It
Langoliers
Lawnmower Man
Mangler/Mangler II
Maximum Overdrive
Misery
Mist
Needful Things
Night Flier
Nightmares and Dreamscapes
Paranoid !
Pet Sematary/Pet Sematary II
Quicksilver Highway
Revelations of 'Becka Paulson !
Rose Madder
Rose Red
Riding The Bullet
Running Man
Secret Window
Salem's Lot/Return to Salem's Lot
Shawshank Redemption
Shining
Silver Bullet
Sleepwalkers
Sometimes They Come Back/Sometimes They Come BackAgain/Sometimes They Come Back 4More
Stand by Me
Stand
Storm of the Century
Strawberry Spring!
Stud City
Tales from the Darkside
Thinner
This Is Horror(From the Archives of Stephen King's World Of Horror)/This is Horror II
Tommyknockers
Trucks
Woman in the Room
World of Horror

December 29, 2008

The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy

He proposed in the dunes,

they were wed by the sea,

Their nine-day-long honeymoon
was on the isle of Capri.

For their supper they had one specatular dish-
a simmering stew of mollusks and fish.
And while he savored the broth,
her bride's heart made a wish.

That wish came true-she gave birth to a baby.
But was this little one human
Well, maybe.

Ten fingers, ten toes,
he had plumbing and sight.
He could hear, he could feel,
but normal?
Not quite.
This unnatural birth, this canker, this blight,
was the start and the end and the sum of their plight.

She railed at the doctor:
"He cannot be mine.
He smells of the ocean, of seaweed and brine."

"You should count yourself lucky, for only last week,
I treated a girl with three ears and a beak.
That your son is half oyster
you cannot blame me.
... have you ever considered, by chance,
a small home by the sea?"

Not knowing what to name him,
they just called him Sam,
or sometimes,
"that thing that looks like a clam"

Everyone wondered, but no one could tell,
When would young Oyster Boy come out of his shell?

When the Thompson quadruplets espied him one day,
they called him a bivalve and ran quickly away.

One spring afternoon,
Sam was left in the rain.
At the southwestern corner of Seaview and Main,
he watched the rain water as it swirled
down the drain.

His mom on the freeway
in the breakdown lane
was pouding the dashboard-
she couldn't contain
the ever-rising grief,
frustration,
and pain.

"Really, sweetheart," she said
"I don't mean to make fun,
but something smells fishy
and I think it's our son.
I don't like to say this, but it must be said,
you're blaming our son for your problems in bed."

He tried salves, he tried ointments
that turned everything red.
He tried potions and lotions
and tincture of lead.
He ached and he itched and he twitched and he bled.

The doctor diagnosed,
"I can't quite be sure,
but the cause of the problem may also be the cure.
They say oysters improve your sexual powers.
Perhaps eating your son
would help you do it for hours!"

He came on tiptoe,
he came on the sly,
sweat on his forehead,
and on his lips-a lie.
"Son, are you happy? I don't mean to pry,
but do you dream of Heaven?
Have you ever wanted to die?

Sam blinked his eye twice.
but made no reply.
Dad fingered his knife and loosened his tie.

As he picked up his son,
Sam dripped on his coat.
With the shell to his lips,
Sam slipped down his throat.

They burried him quickly in the sand by the sea
-sighed a prayer, wept a tear-
and they were back home by three.

A cross of greay driftwood marked Oyster Boy's grave.
Words writ in the sand
promised Jesus would save.