I've Got the Bejesus in Me

Horror movies scare the bejesus out of me. Not exactly sure how the bejesus got in me, but I can tell you it comes flying out at the opening credits, especially if the words are in white typewriter font, really small on a totally black screen with no music. All it has to say is something like "The Blooding of Duncan McGee" and I'm frightened at the mere prospect of Duncan's demise. The first scene can be Duncan bagging groceries and I'm already wondering if the tomatoes are actually killer tomatoes...my cursed imagination far outshines my penchant for logic. Most people probably find horror movies silly and predictable, but I am the one who is always startled by the crazy knife-wielding dude hiding in the closet at the log cabin on the lake. I hate that he wears a mask. I hate that his knife is grossly over-sized. I hate that he grunts like a tennis player with every strike. I think he is in my closet. Or under my bed. Or standing at the back door just after I flip off the light for the night. Movies like Halloween, Halloween II, Halloween III through Halloween XXVII have left a mark on brain for all eternity even though I only saw the first part of the first one 30 years ago. I only have to hear that "alternate-between-the-same-two notes-on-the-piano plunky theme song" to freeze in my tracks and wonder if Mike is behind me. His weird rubbery hands clutching a knife (not un-like the biggest one we have in our drawer that I sometimes chop lettuce with) and his pale face devoid of expression like the alter ego of one of those blue man group fellas. I think I was 11 when I saw what I saw of Halloween The Movie. All I remember now is that I had to sleep by the stairs at a slumber party right after and I didn't really care that they put my training bra in the freezer because I was actually alive the next morning to find out. I made the mistake of watching Nightmare on Elm Street way back when and still few evenings go by that I don't picture myself being filleted by Freddy's wackadoo claws just before falling asleep. I try to push my brain instead to Edward Scissorhands making a bunny out of a boxwood so that I can transition out of hell, but I can't shake the feeling that I will be sucked inside my mattress and spewed out seconds later in liquid form. I don't know who thinks of this shit or whether they realize the sleepless nights they've caused me. They'd probably be proud of it. Just thinking about writing on this subject has influenced my dreams the past few days. Last night I was trapped in a woodshed for a while that was lit in a greenish hue like someone was watching me with nightgoggles. I must have had them on too cuz I could see all the pitchforks pretty good. Reminded me of that scene in Silence of the Lambs where Jody Foster follows the bad guy into his basement. I don't even follow my cat into my basement and I'm fairly certain there isn't a well down there with severed fingertips at the bottom. I mean, I haven't looked in every corner. One of the lights burned out recently. I can't be totally sure. I didn't even go through a "phase" with horror movies - you know, where you sort of like them and like grossing other people out by sharing what you saw. I was never curious or even the least bit appreciative of horror as an art form. I don't know if it's really because I'm somehow, impractically, afraid to die under similar circumstances or if my mind just can't wrap itself around the act of creating scene after scene of gore, loosely tied together as boy meets girl, boy sexes up girl, girl needs to use the outhouse, girl never comes back, boy goes after girl, boy never comes back, best friend shows up at the pond, has to use outhouse, sees what's left of boy and girl, best friend never comes back, best friend's girlfriend shows up at the pond, has to use outhouse... if something can be learned from this it's hold your pee. Especially when it's dark out and you are at the pond. I wish I was one of those people who could actually go to the movie even though I'm frightened by it. Like I could watch it through my hands or something. Or look away when it's really scary and have someone tell me what's going on. At least then I could say I saw it when someone brings it up at a party. It's the same way I feel about Cedar Point and Six Flags and roller coasters that have to have a flashing light on top of the first hill so airplanes won't hit them. I wish I could just get in line like everyone else, casually lower the bar when I'm in the front car and take the next two minutes to see how much bejesus I really have in me. Because I don't watch horror flicks anymore, can't even bring myself to flip through a scary novel (abandoned The Shining half way through when I was 19 and my parents had casually moved my room to the basement) and I don't have the balls to hop the Millenium or the Superman or the mine ride at Disney for that matter, I have no idea how scared I really could be. I just assume I will be scared shitless and that's a mess I don't want to clean up. Not when the toddler next to me, smiling ear to ear, is wearing a diaper yet to be soiled. Was he even tall enough to get on?!