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When The Boogeyman Is Real (And You Look For Him)	By : mileni Category: G through L > House of 1000 Corpses Views: 2834 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own House of 1000 Corpses, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer

Disclaimer:
This was written for fun and not profit, the standard
blah blah blah. There is brief mention to the real actors, and some, uh,
non-flattering comments about Rob Zombie, but they are purely fictional
and necessary for the plot. Rob rocks! If anyone minds his name being included,
please let me know and I'll gladly remove it.

- - Feedback is much appreciated!
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Chapter 1 � It�s All True...

What was I possibly thinking? Half wanting to slam
my head against the wall, I wonder - had I eaten some sort of poisoned or
spoiled food that went straight to my brain, making me do what I did? All I know
is that, last week, I did the stupidest, most
put-me-in-a-straightjacket-and-send-me-to-the-loony-bin thing of my entire naive
life. And I probably have the smartest, most powerful guardian angel, too, since
I�m here � relatively in one piece � to tell the story.
Okay, I know that this will sound crazy. Or maybe
not � maybe you�ve heard the rumors. The fact is, the characters that Rob Zombie
claims to have created for his two movies (House of 1000 Corpses
and The Devil�s Rejects) are not characters. They are (or were) people.
They really existed, and those movies are nothing more than a cheap reproduction
of real facts that occurred in the seventies.
Oh please, don�t dismiss me with that rolling of
eyes. It�s true.
Mr. Zombie�s religious preferences are no mystery
to anyone. Probably using some user-friendly, straight-from-hell powers, he was
able to �see� the sordid events with his own eyes, over 20 years after they
occurred. Or maybe, the facts were presented in a big screen in a theater full
of Satanists eager to learn some lessons in true evil. (Who better than the
Firefly family to teach them?) But that is just my guess � I don�t know how
Satanism, black magic, or whatever that is, works. I just know the results. And
the result is that the guy transformed the whole thing into a movie. Very
clever.
Obviously, people watch those two movies enjoying
themselves, munching their popcorn and laughing, cheering for the bad guys and
asking for more blood to be spilled. They don�t have a clue that, not that long
ago, those same funny lines were spoken by a real Captain Spaulding; those
cheerful giggles came from the lips of a real Vera-Ellen - better known as Baby
-; and some rusty, bloody knife did its share of cutting on the artist hands of
a real Otis.
Otis. I always had an enormous attraction for that
sociopath cold-blood murderer. In the beginning I fought to understand it � it
didn�t make any sense; what was there to like about him? Considering all
of my sweet, normal boyfriends of the past, that attraction was certainly
out of the norm. But soon I stopped giving it a second thought. Otis was just a
movie character, right? A little fantasy couldn�t kill anyone, right?
Oh, and the conventions! They were so exciting for
the lucky fans that lived close enough to attend it. Fangoria Weekend of
Horrors, Monster Mania, ComicCon, Screamfest � you name it � they all could
count with the presence of the Rejects cast. I could barely contain my
contentment the first (and second, and third!) time I shook hands with Bill
Moseley, Sid Haig, Matthew McGrory and others. They were such great people, so
very likeable.
They would have been so deeply ashamed to know
about their close resemblance to the �characters� they played. Even that sordid
detail hadn�t escape to Rob Zombie. Not only had he reproduced the scenes just
as they happened... he had made sure to hire look-alike actors. Oh, of course
they are completely unaware of that, I�m sure, to this day.
It was after watching The Devil�s Rejects that I
learnt the truth. (I cannot reveal the source of information or any more
details, so please don�t ask.) But my reaction was quite unexpected, even to
myself. Yes, I was very angry that someone had built a reputation for himself by
exploiting sickening past events; I was shocked to learn that some human beings
could ever be so unbelievably cruel and enjoy the suffering of other human
beings; and I was scared to death about the whole supernatural aspect of it.
(It�s not like I have demonic powers to see back in time.) But more than
all that, my predominant feeling was of sadness.
Sadness for them. They all had died so early. You
know the story: Rufus being shot in his own house; Mother stabbed in prison;
bloodthirsty vengeful sheriff capturing and torturing Baby, Spaulding and Otis;
Tiny rescuing them and willingly burning with his house; and the death of the
remaining trio by a ton of flying lead � and you know that I don�t mean cancer.
Yes, despite of all the atrocities that they had
done, I couldn�t help but feel sorry for them. I cried and sobbed and lost sleep
over a bunch of homicidal maniacs that died leaving a clean path for a better
world.
Who am I lying to?
It was for Otis alone that I grieved.
And it was because of Otis that I did that
larger-than-life stupid thing that I mentioned earlier in this report: I
traveled back in time to try and save him.
o o o o
o
o o o o
o
A double Bachelors degree in Electronics and
Computer Science, with a PhD in Physics � that is the brother to have.
Lucky me. An older, genius brother, capable of inventing useful devices when his
little sister is in need of saving psychopaths. Including time machines.
�Why do you need one for?� he asked, without
taking his eyes off of the computer screen filled with language codes I am
unfamiliar with.
�Because I�m nervous? You know that caffeine calms
me down, unlike other people that get all-�
�Not your coffee, moron� he interrupted, finally
looking at me, seeing me press the mug against my palms as if holding to it for
dear life. �The bloody time machine. What is there in February 1978 to hold your
interest?�
�Oh.� I had done some research on the internet,
trying to find an excuse to my brother � some exciting historical fact that took
place at that time and place, mind-blowing enough for me to beg him to build a
freaking time machine. I found nothing, and on top of that I�m a terrible liar,
so I decided that omission was my best bet.
�You are gonna have to trust me on that, mano.�
�You are not going to get yourself in trouble,
right?
Trouble? Of course not, I felt like saying. I�m
just going to visit a nice family. Very hospitable and friendly people. �Mano,
I�ll be fine. Please finish this machine, will you?�
He shrugged it off and didn�t question me further.
Now, don�t expect me to explain how he built the
damn thing; it�s not like I can tell a Newton from a Joule (in theory at
least!). So if you�re all curious about the technicalities, e-mail me in private
and I�ll give you my brother�s phone number. He�ll be happy to spend a few hours
ruthlessly burning your grey matter. The Fireflys� torture chamber will sound
appealing in comparison.
Soon enough the machine was ready, and I was
ready. Naturally, I was too much in a hurry (although the past wasn�t going to
go anywhere!) to bother doing some more research, reading the movie scripts,
watching the Reject�s on the theaters again (I had only seen it twice) or, at
the very least, buying a weapon. Yes, a gun would have definitely been
useful. Today I sarcastically clap hands to my own thoughtlessness.
The only thing I had dueled on was the exact date
to go to. I knew that the family had died on summer or spring of 1978, and the
facts from Corpses had happened in Halloween 1977, so I decided to go somewhere
in between. February seemed right.
�I�ll be back before you know it� I assured my
brother, kissing him in the cheek. I took a deep breath and stepped in the
mirror-looking time portal.

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When The Boogeyman Is Real (And You Look For Him)