 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
THE FRANTIC FLICKER
"The movie magazine that isn't..."
----Serving nonsense on a golden platter since 2004.----
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Issue #1: February 13, 2004
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
www.franticflicker.com
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"It was like watching a silent movie, but such a movie as no sane man had ever dreamed of
making, a movie of a girl speaking, the words curling and distorting her wet red lips, spitting,
mouthing, grinning."
-from the occult novel "The Witching Night" by C.S. Cody, 1952
IN THIS ISSUE:
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
==>What?!? Why!?!??
==>Freddy Vs. Jason
==>All You Have To Do Is Ask
==>The Visiting of the Sponsors
==>Superatomic Giveaway of the Week
==>Whodunnit?
WHAT IS THIS AND WHY SHOULD I CARE?
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
I'm glad you asked. My name's Eric, and this is THE FRANTIC FLICKER, an e-mail newsletter that's
movie themed, but not movie related (see the FAQ on the site for a somewhat better explanation).
My goal here is reach people like YOU (who also happen to be people like ME), people who love
weird movies, not just as as a product to buy (although that's great too), but as a jumping off
point for your own weird life; people who like weird movies as a lifestyle choice. Although this first
issue sort of focuses on horror, I should let you know I've got plenty of other genres up my sleeve.
I hope you'll bear with me just a bit as I get this thing off of the ground. Actually, all you have to do
is... nothing. Just don't unsubscribe and you'll get this tasty morsel of un-spam in your e-mailbox
every week. I hope you'll enjoy it!
Eric
P.S. I just got my website paid for this morning (2-13), so if any you can't find it yet, or if the e-mail
addresses aren't working, just wait a few hours and try again - they will be.
Without further ado, the Frantic Flicker proudly presents an original story entitled:
FREDDY VS. JASON
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
My name is Freddy Prinze, Jr. No, I'm not an actor. I'm a plumber. No one who's seen me ever asks
if I'm that same Freddy Prinze Jr., since I'm twenty-some years older than he is and about a
hundred pounds heavier. I've also been known to wear a patch over my right eye. My wife's name
is Helen. Now Helen and I have been married for four years, and we care about each other very
deeply. But the summer before last, during the worst heatwave to hit Little Rock since the 1920s,
we faced the biggest trial of our marriage. That was the summer Jason Mewes came to town.
Jason Mewes is also not an actor; he's a pool cleaner and pool pump installer. No one gets Jason
Mewes confused with the actor of the same name either, since he's much less attractive and half
as tall. We met Jason at a garage sale on Bleeker Street. He was trying to haggle over the shrimp
cocktail glasses, and we were willing to pay full price. Jason went on and on about shrimp cocktail.
Since Helen loves shrimp cocktail too, they got to talking and we ended up inviting him back to our
place for dinner.
During a fabulous meal of shrimp-on-the-rocks, Jason explained to us that he'd just come from
Maine, where his grandmother had been performing atomic experiments on whales to see if she
could get them to release blubber through their spouts. She'd been making terrific progress, he
explained, but then she'd been killed by a maniac with a crossbow and he'd been sent here to
Little Rock to live with an uncle who loved to crochet. It was a perplexing time for Jason, and as I
was an older man, I decided to take him under my wing.
I told Jason that I was willing to give him the best psychiatric counseling money could buy (what,
did you think I got my degree in plumbing?) if he would install a new pump in our pool and clean it
four times a week. He agreed, and we immediately went out to the pool to seal the deal over a
nice cool glass of well water. Jason seemed to think that most of his problems stemmed from the
fact that he'd never had a girlfriend. I disagreed. After all, my first girlfriend had been Helen. We
met when I was thirty-five, and I turned out perfect. Jason became enraged that I'd contradicted
him, and threw his glass of well water into the pool.
"You little putz," I hollered, "Get in there and clean it!"
"Make me, fatso," he yelled back as he ran from the deck. I would have made him, too, but by the
time I got to the bottom of the stairs I was breathing heavy and figured I'd better stop before I
had a heart attack.
"Well, honey," I told Helen, " I guess that's the last we'll see of him." But I was wrong.
The next day when I came home from work, I heard laughter coming from the den. When I looked
in, I saw Helen and Jason. They were both in their underwear, doing something with cards, and
eating shrimp cocktail. Jason sat in my good TV chair, and Helen was on the couch. The position
wasn't quite compromising, but close enough to make me mad. And then I saw the chair. Even from
the door I could make out several spots, almost puddles of cocktail sauce on the upholstory. I'm
sure Jason didn't know that I'd spent my entire first paycheck having that chair reupholtered, but
Helen sure as heck did. It was bad news all the way around.
"O-47" I heard him say, "You got that one?" O-47? They couldn't be-
"That's it," I thought, "Jason Mewes will have to die."
I tried to sneak into the bedroom to get my gun, but my knees get a little extra creaky sometimes,
and soon both Jason and Helen were in front of me, both half-naked, and both talking at once.
"He was telling me about Maine," she said shakily, "and the game they used to play. It seemed like
harmless fun..."
"I didn't mean for this to happen," Jason said, "but now that it has... I've never known a woman
like this." His mouth hung open, as if he was as shocked by the gravity of his own thoughts: "Now
that I've seen her in her underwear, I feel I must marry Helen, and that means that you have to
die!"
"Strip shrimp bingo is one thing, but that chair-" I stopped talking.
I hadn't noticed that my brass See-No-Evil monkeys were missing from their spot on the mantle,
but even if I had, I wouldn't have expected them to crack me in the back of the neck. It might have
hurt quite a bit, but luckily, I'd become addicted to painkillers after a hunting accident several years
ago, and had just upped the dosage that morning.
I turned around. I was moving slowly, but I had him in a corner: there was nowhere for the little
boxer-shorted cretin to go. I caught him in a crushing bear-hug, but he was so greasy with sweat
and shrimp-juice that he slipped from between my arms like a water-willy.
Searching for a lighter weapon, Jason ran into the hall closet. I closed the door behind him, and
leaned my bulk against it, locking him in. Helen came up the stairs into the hall. Our eyes met, and
she smiled, but it wasn't the same smile as when we won $200 in the state lottery. I sat there
breathing for a minute, then heard a familiar sound coming from inside. It was my second-string
power drill! He was trying to drill through the door and into me!
Luckily, I knew something Jason didn't know. That drill had been used under awkward conditions in
the Gulf War, and it had a short circuit in it that would shock the hair off of a mongoose even under
normal conditions. But a man who had been running around damp and clammy, over thick carpet,
with socks on...
The drilling sound continued as the bit found the wood of the door, then stopped suddenly.
It was probably only a few seconds, but it seemed like months we stood there in wild anticipation.
Had he stopped drilling? Was the wood of the door too sturdy? Or would my idea of planting that
drill in the closet for just such a situation finally pay off? And then came the sound I'd been hoping
for: a loud crackle of electricity.
And then silence.
"Ow," said Jason, "that hurt. I think your drill is broken."
"I know it is," I said, "you're dumb for trying to use it."
"Can I...come out now?"
"Have you learned your lesson?"
"Don't try to kill you and marry your wife?"
He had learned his lesson. I opened the door to the closet. Jason looked pretty embarrassed as he
fumbled to get the rest of his clothes on.
"I don't want to see you around here when I'm not home anymore, Jason."
"Okay, Freddy. I really am sorry." We walked him to the door, and watched him as he started his
walk down the street.
"That poor fella," Helen said, "never ever had a girlfriend. And now... I guess he never will."
"Yeah," I said. But that was none of my business. I stuck my head out the door and called after
him: "And you're gonna pay to have that chair reupholstered again, too."
THE END
Wasn't that nice? What's the moral of the story? I think the moral of the story can be summed up
in one word, and that word is "chair." Or maybe it's "shrimp,"... I don't think it's "drill," but I'm not
really an expert on morals. I know there's one word that covers it, though.
Coincidentally, friends, there is also a motion picture out called FREDDY VS. JASON. I saw it in the
theater and dug it. See our website for plenty of swag from THAT intellectual property, although
you'll have to be pretty darn insistent and supportive before you see any action figures, etc. from
the story you just read (although I did a fabulous illustration of a key scene). Anyway, check it all
out at www.franticflicker.com.
ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS ASK
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
In this section, I will happily answer any question you might have, whether I know the answer or
not. Just send them to eric@franticflicker.com with the subject line "I have a question.". Please
keep in mind that questions that insult me personally are somewhat less likely to be answered. I
also reserve the right to invoke the fifth amendment. Beyond that, anything is fair game. I
especially like questions about regular school-type subjects, advice, or stuff about movies.
Since this is the first issue and no one's sent any questions in yet, I'll have to pick one myself just
to start it off. For example, I bet you've always wondered:
Question: Why is the sky blue?
Answer: The sky is actually made up of millions of tiny blue magnetic creatures called feldspars
(scientific name: Cobaltius Dominatius). Feldspars look like tiny turtles, but are more closely related
to rats. They generally survive by sucking carbon monoxide out of the atmosphere (hence their
blue coloring), although they have been known to gnaw on passing spacecraft, much like a school
of piranha. Feldspars do not have wings, but are possessed of a certain magnetic property that
causes them to be repelled by the earth's gravitational force. So the next time someone remarks
about the beautiful blue sky, you can impress them with your knowledge of nature by saying "Yes,
the feldspars are getting plenty of carbon monoxide."
THE VISITING OF THE SPONSORS
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Just a couple of quick commercials before SUPERATOMIC time.
EBAY!
I'm an eBay fiend (username mothra911, feedback rating 836 and counting). Check out what I'm
trying to get rid of at:
http://cgi6.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewSellersOtherItems&userid=mothra911&include=0&since
=-1&sort=3&rows=50
DVD EMPIRE!
Also, check out DVD Empire.com for swell prices on a big ol' selection of DVDs. But make sure you
follow one of my links (like the one below), or they're not sponsoring jack.
http://www.dvdempire.com/index.asp?partner_id=90841311
Thanks for your patience.
And now, it's time for our...
SUPERATOMIC GIVEAWAY OF THE WEEK
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Part of my whole reason for being here is to expose people to cool and/or weird stuff that they
might not otherwise know about, and one of the main ways I want to do that is by giving stuff
away for free.
This week's giveaway is a vintage used video of the little-seen movie CRAZED, about a young
woman who moves into a boardinghouse occupied by an old woman and a creepy voyeur. It's kind
of a low-rent PSYCHO with some pretty effective moments. And it's FREE!
To win it, send an e-mail to superatomic@franticflicker.com. Put your name and address in the body
of the e-mail, and use the SUPERATOMIC SECRET PASSWORD in a COMPLETE SENTENCE as the
subject line. Your information will not be used for any other purpose.
The SUPERATOMIC SECRET PASSWORD for this week is... (gotta subscribe to find out).
Visit the superatomic section of the website (www.franticflicker.com/superatomic) for complete
rules, more details and photos of this week's prize.
By entering, you confirm that you are 18 years of age or older. US entrants only, please.
WHODUNNIT
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
I dunnit! Me! Me! Me! Eric Henderson! All by myself!
Of course, without someone to read it, it wouldn't be nearly as much fun, so...
YOU! YOU! YOU! Thanks!
The Frantic Flicker is a weekly e-mail newsletter published by Eric Henderson.
As of today (or maybe tomorrow) the official website is up and running, so you can visit us online
at:
www.franticflicker.com
If you have any questions or comments, I'd be happy to hear them. Gimmee a holler at:
eric@franticflicker.com. If it doesn't go through, try again - I just signed up for these e-mails this
morning, so there may be a few hour delay or something. If you don't want me to print your letter,
let me know.
I'll talk at you again next week. Thanks! Eric
All content copyright 2004 Eric Henderson. All rights reserved, but feel free to forward this e-mail or
link to my home page. Thanks.
To SUBSCRIBE, visit www.franticflicker.com. To UNSUBSCRIBE, follow the autoresponder
instructions below.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
THE LIVING END
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::