Category Archives: Monsters

Lego Shop of Horrors

I am not a card-toting Lego nut. Honest. Not me. But events have conspired to induct me into Legodom in a big (and somewhat expensive) way. It’s called Lego Monster Fighters and it’s damn cool. Finally, after Star Wars, superheroes, and Lord of the Rings, Lego turned its attention to the most enduring pop culture there is: Horror.

Let me go back a bit. As a pre-teen I was a Lego nut. Admittedly. Back in the day (this would be the early 80s) there were no elaborate Lego kits. The one I recall was this moon lander kit. Mostly I just jimmied parts together to make interesting things

Why did I stop with the tiny plastic bricks. Basically life. I could mark the official end as the year I got my driver’s license. With freedom came girls and traveling. Legos didn’t fit in very well.

Fast forward twenty-five years and I now have a five-year-old daughter. True, she’s been playing with Duplos since she was one or two, but things really took off this year. First she created her own Lego Hulk. Then I bought her the Lego Avenger’s kit (which took me hours to assemble). Finally her birthday was only a short time later. When I saw that Lego had gone to the monsters, I had to bite. You see everyone in my family (daughter, wife, myself) are unabashed monster nuts. So here you go, the assembled Lego kits for three of the Monster Fighter sets.

Here’s the long view of “The Vampyre Castle”. Lego has come a long way since the moon lander series. This has a trap door, a secret room concealed with moveable stairs, and a Lego coffin.

Here’s a view of all the monsters. The werewolf comes from a different set (“The Werewolf”) where he launches out of a tree at one of the monster hunters. Check out the front of that car. The monster hunters have all the cool rides.

Finally we have “The Crazy Scientist and His Monster”. It has a “glow brick” that lights up with a Lego gear system (how very Steampunk). The figures for all the sets are astounding. I’m told that these sets aren’t available everywhere just yet. But they’re coming.

Tim Kane

The God of the Lost

Worship me with your feet.

That’s what the God of the Lost wants. A creation of Stephen King, this deity drops down to earthly levels in the book The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon. I have said before that this is one of my favorite books by King. Not only have I read it seven or eight times, I even wrote a paper on it for my Masters in English.

One interesting aspect of the book is King’s take on religion. The protagonist, Trisha McFarland, becomes hopelessly lost in the woods. At a clearing, she meets three gods, each offering a sort of salvation. There’s the-god-of-Tom-Gordon (the one the pitcher points to when he makes a save). This god is too busy to help a child lost in the woods.

Then there’s the sub-audible. This, according the Trisha, is a creation of her drunk father. The sub-audible is that noise just below hearing. Like the sound of the refrigerator turning on and off. People don’t notice it. But it’s there. This version of god is just behind the skin of the world. Always humming. It can’t really help because it’s too weak.

Then there’s the God of the Lost. This creature has a face composed of living wasps. Plump, ungainly poison factories. It feeds off Trisha’s fear, allowing her to live so she can ripen. Later in the novel, Trisha finds a road and is almost to safety. Then the God of the Lost appears in the form of a possessed bear.

I snatched this from the movie, The Edge, starring Anthony Hopkins. It was the first bear that popped into my head.

I like this portrayal of the monster. Rather than invent some horrific creature, the reader only glimpses the edges off it in the same way as Trisha. We know the terror that lies behind the empty eye sockets of the bear, squirming with maggots. Yet most of the image is left for us to fill in with our minds.

True monsters need to be this way. Only ten-percent written, and ninety-percent in the reader’s head.

Tim Kane

Lucha Libre and Monsters

One of my favorite restaurants I frequent is Lucha Libre near the airport in San Diego. They make a mean chocolate mole sauce and astounding salsa. The theme of this tiny taco shop is lucha libre (thus the name). If you’re not familiar with this odd Spanish term it means “free fighting” or basically Mexican wresting.

The wrestlers of Mexico often don masks when they fight. Remember Nacho Libre, that movie with Jack Black? Same deal. However, the history of this “sport” involves secret agents, musicals, aliens, and monsters.

The first famous masked wrestler was El Santo (The Saint). Way back in 1942, El Santo changed wresting by wearing his trademark silver mask. Yet he was not constrained by the limitations of the ring. By 1958, El Santo branched out to make movies. He rode the wave of Hammer horror films as well as the James Bond films.

You can view many of El Santo’s movie posters at El Año de El Santo (The Year of El Santo). I’ve included some favorites here.

Santo against the Bad Brain was Santo’s first film.

Santo is only referred to as El Enmascarado (the masked man) and has nearly no lines in this film.

Santo and Dracula’s Treasure

This 1968 “classic” features El Santo inventing a time machine. (He was a man of many talents). They travel back in time to face of with Dracula. This movie is most famous for the version you can’t find: Santo en El vampiro y el sexo. That was the same film but with an overabundance of nude scenes.

El Santo is teamed up with Blue Demon. They fight all the monsters (from left to right): Vampire Woman, Frankenstein, Dracula, Wolfman, and Cyclops.

Here’s the complicated plot to “Los Montruos” (1969), see if you can follow it. A mad scientist takes control of the monsters and sics them on the wrestlers. That’s pretty much it.

I sense some copyright infringement here with Marvel. Too bad the movie was made almost 40 years ago in Turkey.

El Santo teamed up with Captain America (which I could totally see, by the way) to take on Spider-man (who is apparently a villain). This gem came out in 1973 in Turkey. Completely unlicensed, the Turks felt they could lift any character to use in their films.

For a full list of Santo’s exploits and reviews of his films, check out The Films of El Santo.

Tim Kane

Warning: Exposure to Cthulhu Causes OCD

Monster Monday: I’m going to attempt to post about monsters (my favorite topic) each Monday. Today we’re talking the mac daddy of all monsters, Cthulhu. Not familiar? It’s hard to sum up in a few lines. He’s a mythical god, older than the pantheons of Greece or the Vikings, that lives in another dimension. He’s part of the Old Ones that ruled Earth aeons ago. They sleep now, but continually seek a way into our world again. To rule and to feed.

The brainchild of author H. P. Lovecraft, Cthulhu and other creepy netherworld critters attempted to scare the life out of various folk in his stories. A recurring theme in his work is that of madness. Imagine actually seeing a god. Coming face to face with one. Not Zeus with his fluffy white beard and lightning bolt. I mean a literal force of nature. Awe inspiring doesn’t cut it. Lovecraft felt that the human mind couldn’t handle such an experience. The typical result was madness.

As a fan of Stephen King, I’ve read two of the stories he’s written that touch on Lovecraftian ideas. One is Crouch End from Nightmares & Dreamscapes. It’s a tremendously creepy tale about a couple of Yanks getting lost on the deserted streets of London. Only one makes it back, though she has lost her sanity.

A more recent story I’ve read is N from Just After Sunset. N refers to the name of an accountant who visits a shrink. The poor fellow developed a crippling case of obsessive compulsive disorder after witnessing a thin spot in the world. Stephen King has written about this sort of thing before. Other worlds border our own and sometimes the fabric that separates the two wears thing. The character N found such a place and was infected by OCD.

Insanity has always been associated with Lovecraft, but this was the first time I’ve read about the madness manifesting as a compulsive disorder. N must count things, and the numbers must always be even. Six is a fix. Eight makes it straight. He also arranges objects in diagonals and circles. He says it’s to save the world. And in this story, he isn’t being metaphorical. Can you imagine, compelled to count and arrange to keep monstrous slimy things out of our world? This story is well worth a read. It has a surprise ending that I won’t spoil, but it’s good enough that I sought it out again to read.

I had forgotten the name and had to listen to nearly all my King audio books until finding it. That’s an obsession. Uh oh. Perhaps I’ve caught N’s compulsion. I better start counting.

(There are 458 words in this post. That’s even. A good number.)

Tim Kane

Do-It-Yourself Zombie Kit

Making zombies can be easy, and fun. You needn’t wait around for the zombie plague to come to your town. Apocalyptic events are unpredictable and hard to rely on. Besides, roving zombies can be messy, breaking your windows, and trotting all over your prized petunias. Finally, the risk of personal infection with your local mob of living dead is high.

No, all you need to create an ambulatory moldering corpse of your very own can be found in your local supermarket and hardware store. You’ll need to create Zombie Powder. Although Haitian bòkòs will use puffer fish venom (the active ingredient being tetrodotoxin), you needn’t go so far. The simple powder of a dead man’s bones will do. How do you acquire such a rarity? Well, if zombie making were simple, we’d be flooded in lumbering dead, wouldn’t we. The remaining ingredients are a bit simpler: lizard, spider, nettle, ground glass, and cashews. Raw cashews are best, as they are poisonous, but the canned variety will do in a pinch. Just be sure you don’t get salted nuts, as your zombie detests salt.

Mixing the ingredients couldn’t be easier. Just dump them all in a food processor. You’ll have some trouble with the bones and the glass. Start by smashing them with a sledgehammer, and work down to a regular claw hammer. Then switch to a mortar and pestle. Once ground up, you can combine them with the other ingredients in a mixing bowl. Be sure to use a spoon or mixer, not your hands. Otherwise your spouse will find you zombified in the kitchen the following morning.

Next you’ll need a willing volunteer, or victim, your choice. No need to strap him down and inject the powder. It can be slipped into food or blown into the face. If you want to avoid a costly burial and subsequent disinterment, plan to have a secure place to deposit the body while it zombifies. A basement with a sturdy lock will do. The process takes a scant eight hours.

When your zombie awakens, he will hunger for brains and internal organs. He will not recognize you as master or creator, only food. In throes of birth pangs, he can be taught. Have a flexible shaft of wood ready (I recommend a 1 x 2 board, maybe three feet long). Call out the zombie’s name and beat him severely along the back and head. Try to avoid the arms, unless you want to cripple him and limit his usefulness. This is why your shaft should be flexible. You don’t want to break any bones. If you happen to have a cane, this is ideal. After about an hour of whipping, you’ll find your zombie more compliant. If he every gets out of line, you’ll need to whip him again, so be prepared.

You’ll need to immediately feed your zombie, as he is famished. Failure to do so is a trust breaker, and leads to a fussy zombie. Again, be prepared. Have a couple of people ready to munch or at the very least some cow brains. This will sate your zombie and make him more compliant.

At this point, making your next zombies is only a bite away. Simply let your corpse nibble on his next meal, but beat him away before he devours it entirely. Within eight hours, your new zombie will rise.

Let me offer a word of warning here. The temptation to create an unstoppable army of dead is overwhelming. But stop and think. Is this really a wise idea? You need to apply severe and regular beating to control your one zombie. How will manage with two, much less a troop of the living dead. Answer, you won’t. You’ll be food for the undead legion and the zombie plague will have begun. Most citywide infestations have had their root in undisciplined zombie practitioners.

Now that you have your zombie, put him to work. Make him rake the yard, clean the dishes, take out the trash. All those chores you never want to do, but feel guilty about letting slide. Your zombie only exists to serve you. And eat brains. Perhaps he leans toward the latter, but if you keep him in steady supply of cerebellums, he’ll do what you want him to.

Where to get the brains? You’ll need at least two to three a day, though you can tide him over with intestines, liver, and the like. Be sure not to bring any brains that will be easily missed — Police, doctors, army officials — as this will call attention to your little operation. If you do get raided, claim your zombie is a pot head and he did it all himself. It doesn’t always work, but it’s that or run for the hills.

Tim Kane