Showing posts with label h.g. lewis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label h.g. lewis. Show all posts

Jul 9, 2012

SHITTY FLICKS: BLOOD FEAST

Shitty Flicks is an ongoing column that celebrates the most hilariously incompetent, amusingly pedestrian, and mind-bogglingly stupid movies ever made by people with a bit of money, some prior porn-directing experience, and no clue whatsoever. It is here you will find unrestrained joy in movies meant to terrify and thrill, but instead poke at your funny bone with their weird, mutant camp-girl penis. 

WARNING: I tend to give away major plot points and twist endings in my reviews because, whatever. Shut up.


I am Pete Thornton of the Miami police department, and the following is my report on the events leading up the squashing of Mr. Fuad Ramses, a man who wore clay eyebrows, killed women to appease a gold Egyptian mannequin, and passed away in a garbage truck.
No names have been changed because I was too busy reading the funny papers.

The following is my report regarding the events of these past few days, in which I flatly, and without emotion, discovered the following bullshits:
  • Ramses owned a store of canned beans.
  • He was obsessed with ancient Egypt and he killed women.
  • He lived alone, his only company some random Egyptian bullshit.
  • He often shouted at his gold Egyptian mannequin, for he was crazy and lonely.
  • He also often removed super creeper gooey red things from each woman's body, simulating a heart or brain or, you know, whatever.
  • After killing the women, I theorize that he removed their gooey goo parts to use in a stew. Or perhaps a goo pie.
  • His one weakness is garbage trucks.

"Well, ya didn't Tivo Pushing Daisies, Karen,
and you're home all fucking day. Maybe that's
why I'm fucking pissed off."

Fuad Ramses was obsessed with old Egyptian bullshit. He was believed to have been seeking out various woman parts in order to offer them up to his stupid Egyptian mummy gods. His reward remains to be seen, but I, Pete Thornton, believe it could have been a blowjob, or perhaps a new suit.

One of Ramses’s victims, Blue Dress Woman, was just one of many plain-looking women to be torn apart by his stupid knife. His approach was methodical; his cunning, unsurpassed; his suit/eyebrows: a light powdery blue.

Ramses hacked the poor bitch apart as she lay in her tub, soaking in her own filth. Ramses, not one to be greedy, took only a leg. He wrapped it in a plastic bag and disappeared off into the night to go watch "My Three Sons."

I worked closely with my chief, Frank Something, on this case. His preferred method of investigating included unnecessarily reading aloud from the case files as we sat in our tiny office, chain-smoking, and wearing starched suits.

“There is a pattern,” Frank would stammer, frustrated with my inability to find said pattern.

“This looks like one of those looong, hard ones,” I said in regards to the case, not sensing how gay it sounded. I'm not gay, I fucking swear.

In the store of canned goods that Ramses owned, catering services were also made available.

A large cheese-hat woman inquired about his catering services, but requesting something extra special. Ramses, seeing an opportunity to perform more stupid bullshit, made his move.

He leaned in, his clay hair immovable, as he asked, “Have you ever had an…EGYPTIAN FEAST?”

Someone then sat on an organ as the cheese-hat woman looked excited at the prospect.

They made their agreements and she left to find a giant cracker.

Later, Ramses killed two more people: a couple making whoopy on the beach. The hesitant woman, who was unsure about baring her breasts while a maniac was on the loose, was convinced by her boyfriend, who challenged her with, “C’mon, baby. Prove that you love me.”

I wasn’t there, you understand - I was probably at the Suit Store For Whites Only - but this is probably how it happened.

However, the maniac that was on the loose, Ramses, then stabbed the girl a bunch of times, took some brains, and fled. The boyfriend may or may not have been turned into a snake, thanks to some witch magic.

Mary never knew what was better: fucking, or
gravy fights. One day, she did both at once.
It was transcendent.

Also, point of note: cleaning up a crime scene on sand is fucking hard, and it’s one reason I am considering leaving the force to become a ventriloquist.

Ramses struck again, this time at a sleazy motel. He knocked on the door, and when his victim answered, he forced her mouth open with his dirty fingers as he ripped out her tongue. I believe the combination of the woman wearing only a brassiere, along with this mutilation, gave Ramses a huge boner.

I, Pete Thornton, randomly attended lectures on ancient Egypt and tried to stay awake during Professor Boring's boring boreshit. From what I heard, while I wasn’t doodling in my notebook and playing with my wiener through my pocket, a mummy once existed and this mummy punched everyone in the face. The mummy punched so many people that it was damned to sit in a room and punch the ground. This mummy is known as Mummia Dude. (I think. I may have filled in my own story, because the man with glasses talked for so long that I was wake-dreaming of screwing the woman next to me.)

The bitch I was with later told me that he talked about something called the Blood Feast, which was when Egyptians would dismember girls and eat them in an effort to stay youthful forever. I told her that was ridiculous, and I went home and talked to a police sketch artist to make some preliminary posters of Mummia Dude.

"Eh...I read about it in a magazine and I wanted to try it.
Guess I fucked it up."

After the borefest, I, Pete Thornton, took some time to do some light, non-evasive kissing with my best girl, who unbeknownst to me, was having a party catered by Fuad, thanks to her cheese-hat mother.

Talk about irony.

You talk about it, anyway. I won’t. I’m Pete Thornton. I carry a badge and a gun. I don’t have time for that homo stuff.

In my town of L.A., I like my women like I like my beer: cool, and with their boobs out. Ramses also liked women with good boobs, and with all the boobs that are everywhere in L.A., it was hard to pinpoint his next move; that move being chasing a woman in broad daylight, knocking her out, and carrying her off to do God knows what bat-shit stuff that man did. And on top of these murder charges, Ramses is also responsible for one of the tamest whippings I, Pete Thornton, have ever seen. Given that I have never seen any whippings, rest assured that the whipping was very tame, resulting in a few red streaks across the victims back; streaks that look suspiciously like water color paint brush swipes.

I eventually stumbled across his workshop of terror and saw what was left of that whipping victim. She looked delicious. Not because I am sick, but because I am pretty sure she was covered in barbecue sauce. I ran a finger along a thigh and tasted it, but it was actually blood. I threw up in my hat and fell down.

Later, after Ramses attempted to kill my best girl at her party, he fled and I followed close behind him.

I, Pete Thornton, single-handedly stopped Fuad Ramses, the jerk-off in question. By employing a tactic we learned at the academy, I chased him across a trash heap for a long time, and then he jumped into a rubbish truck, dying of some massive mush-mush.

I would just like to congratulate myself on a job well done, seeing as how no one else in this half-assed department has yet.

In conclusion, Frog Rammers, or whoever, is now a messy pancake, so it doesn't really matter what my report has to say.

That's it for me, Pete Thornton. I'm off to write a report on another bullshit murderer: The Wizard of Gore. I hope he has candy. And a new hat, for my head.

Things I Learned From My Experience:
  • Frank, the police captain, shrieks at me whenever I show any affection towards my wife. He's gay.
  • Having a gimp can make a killer super creepers.
  • It's OK to leave the dead body of a man behind as long as you've solved the case.
  • Timpani hits provide super creeper tension.
  • Super creeper snakes make any scene ultra goopers.
  • All the white people in my town have weird, blue hair. And all the black people…hmm…well,  I’ve never actually seen any.
  • The only people who still care about ancient Egypt also eat people pie.