B-Movie Attack Read Free

evidence is clear. I had nothing to do with it. There was no evidence. Only people with their throats torn out. People with missing heads. Decapitated. People drained dry of blood.”
    Gary hadn’t touched his longneck. “You were there, what did you see, man? You know the truth.”
    “If I say it, you’ll think I’m full of shit.”
    His friend patted his back. “Everybody in the world should buy you a drink. I’ve known you for eight years, friend. You’d had a bad run, to put it lightly. And it’s all because you married Becky Brauman.”  
    “Becky.” Ted muttered it like a curse. “She sure didn’t put up much of a fight to stay with me. After her father got through with me, my bank accounts were seized. My car, my furniture, all my belongings were repossessed by collectors, and next thing I know, I can’t get anybody to finance even a shitty laundry commercial if it’s made by me. The funny thing, nobody has really seen my movies all the way through. Never. Morgue Vampire Tramps Find Temptation at the Funeral Home would’ve been the first. Would’ve been.”
    The mention of Becky added to the ulcer forming in Ted’s midsection. He married Becky straight out of film school at New York University. Becky was the daughter of the man who happened to be the head of the Private Film Coalition of Public Morals, a man named Dennis Brauman. He created an underground sect of the National Legion of Decency. Both legions created rules for filmmakers to obey: the rating system, what sexual or graphic scenes should be cut out of films, and in extreme cases—like Ted’s films—if they should be seized and destroyed. Dennis was also the head of PFCPM, and he didn’t want his daughter married to a rogue schlock moviemeister responsible for films like Blonde Beach Bimbos Blast Aliens , Sasquatch in New York , and Carnal Carnival . The films themselves weren’t subversive beyond any Roger Corman film of their time; no rape, incest or orgies occurred in the films, but Dennis managed to financially discredit Ted’s independent film company and steal his movies—all the while convincing Becky he was a sleazebag who directed pornos with monsters.  
    “So what happened during the showing?” Gary begged. “Quit holding back. Are you building suspense?”
    “It’s not a fun story. You won’t believe it.”
    His friend stubbed out his cigarette and started smoking another one. “All the more reason to tell me. What killed those people?”
    Ted gained the courage to put the story into words. “Flying lesbian vampires are what happened.” The phrase would’ve been humorous in any other setting. “My monsters came to life on the screen. You can ask the witnesses. They were real. They killed people.”
    Gary’s expression didn’t shift. “ Hmmm. Maybe this is a sign, pal. Mid-life crisis is knocking on your door, and you’ve answered. I haven’t heard anything about killings at, what, Iowa University? No, I would’ve heard about it. And flying monsters?—flying lesbian monsters?—that would’ve been front-page territory. Were the deaths a fake publicity stunt? Stan Merle Sheckler is back, ladies and gentlemen, and he has no scruples—again.”
    They’ve blocked it out of the news, Ted realized. He threw up his hands in defeat. “You know, I looked it up on CNN, and nothing. Nothing on the web. No articles. Now it makes sense.”
    “Did any of this actually happen? Come on, give up the ghost. You’re fucking with me. Joshing me, right? Nice one, pal. Real good zinger. Can I hear the punch line? I'm waiting for it.”
    Ted gave up. Hearing himself explain the truth was as outlandish as it sounded. The police had created a media blackout. And it made sense. Who would believe flying vampires were real?
    “Yeah man, I’m just fuckin’ with you,” Ted pretended to joke. “The damn reel snapped during the showing. We made it about ten minutes, and they couldn’t fix the problem.”
    Gary sighed in