With his snaggle tooth reflecting the full moon’s burr, he whispers a plume of breath into the chill, pulls the neck strap to his crimson velvet cloak and starts along the track. Buckles on uncomfortable shoes clunk with each step. Halting under a bowed elm, he bends down to release his tightbound leather and gilt
What came first the chicken or the egg? That’s something that has plagued me whilst I was reading Folklore by Mitch Sebourn. Not the chicken, or the egg for that matter, but as I was reading this book, I had the feeling that I’d read something very similar before. It wasn’t until the final third
You better watch out You better not cry You better not pout I’m telling you why Santa Claus is Coming to Town Haven Gillespie, 1933 I’m the other side of that coin, the boogieman parents use to frighten their children, the Krampus from old
Spanners who say it be because of the moon are full of shite, me bye. Oh, you painted a Lon Chaney miniature when in First Year, did you? Well, whoop dee do. Ah, here, you can go and bullocks! Sure, look—John Landis and Rick Baker got the transformation mostly right and deserved that Oscar, they
