REGAN
What an excellent day for an exorcism.
—THE EXORCIST (1973)
(Sung to Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence”): Hello Satan, my old friend. I’ve come to fight with you again. Because you’re worse than any poltergeist. You turn our kids into the Antichrist. And the demon, that you planted in that girl—made her hurl. Now hear my sound … of violence.
Not only is farming one of the deadliest horror occupations (remoteness, animals, sharp things everywhere), but in the hands of most screenwriters, cornstalks are antennas for receiving evil. Why? Because they’re a clear metaphor for isolation, easy to get lost in, cheap to film in, and—best of all—very, very hard to see in. Because cornfields are such ripe horror territory, they’re often infested with demons, sign-making aliens, winged carnivores, and worst of all … fanatical children.
A religious child infestation is every corn farmer’s worst nightmare. The onset is sudden, and the results can be disastrous for the crops. If left untreated, the little buggers will make themselves at home, using inventory to make crucifixes, trampling paths everywhere, and chanting Bible passages day and night. If your infestation has already progressed to conducting human sacrifices and summoning false gods, burn the whole mess and collect government subsidies until next season. But if you’ve caught it early enough, here are some safe, somewhat humane ways of driving them out, each step increasing in severity.
1. FIRE UP THE CROP DUSTER. Farmers use aircraft to spray their fields with bug-killing chemicals. You can employ the same method to counter the effects of corn-dwelling kids. But instead of spraying pesticides, you’ll need to blanket the infected area with something that neutralizes naughty children. Some suggestions:
Crushed Ritalin. Nothing soothes the savage preteen like a bloodstream full of methylphenidate. Get your hands on several cases of Ritalin, mill it into a fine powder, and dust away. Before you know it, the little buggers will be off to find the nearest Sylvan Learning Center. About 40 pills per child should do the trick.
A skimpy tank top. Due to their religious fanaticism, corn-dwelling children dress like eighteenth-century puritans—a weakness easily exploited with a single piece of twenty-first-century clothing. One of the female pests will happen upon the tank top and try it on, instantly making her the hottest girl in the cornfield. The other females will divide into two groups: those who befriend the girl to bask in her popularity, and those who denounce her as a “total whore.” The males, meanwhile, will practically tear one another apart trying to be with her. Result? What had been a harmonious, God-fearing community is now a John Hughes movie, and the colony destroys itself from within.
Pot brownies. It doesn’t matter what kind of demon they have protecting them, nothing has more power over a child than the smell of fresh-baked brownies—especially when you’ve been gnawing on nothing but raw corn for months. Drop a few pot-laced batches (you’re on your own when it comes to scoring the ingredients) over the focal point of the infestation and wait for the hungry vermin to gobble them up. When you hear “Redemption Song” or “Comfortably Numb” in the distance, that’s your cue to drive into the field, round them up (they won’t resist), and dump them at the nearest 24-hour diner, where they’ll share a plate of gravy fries and talk about death till the sun comes up.
2. BUILD A BASEBALL FIELD. If crop dusting comes up short, don’t despair. In the late 1980s, a loophole was created in the “all movie cornfields are evil” law, and you can reap the benefits with only a small investment of time and money.
First, clear a few acres of your corn, preferably near your farmhouse. Next, build a baseball field. You’ll need some dirt, chalk, fencing (for the backstop), a few poles, some lights, and, of course, regulation bases. The whole shebang shouldn’t run more than a few hundred thousand dollars, assuming you do the labor yourself.
Once the field is complete, it shouldn’t be more than a few days before deceased Hall-of-Famers show up for practice. At this point, your cornfield has been transformed from evil to merely enchanted, and the children will be forced to leave.
A word of warning: If you leave the baseball field up too long, you’ll be swarmed with motorists who felt compelled to drive all the way to your farm to see it. You also run the risk of your dead father showing up.
3. CONDUCT AUDITORY WARFARE. In 1989, the United States invaded Panama and cornered dictator Manuel Noriega, who’d taken refuge in the Vatican Embassy. Since they couldn’t enter the embassy without permission, the Army turned to an alternative weapon—rock and roll. Using a huge speaker, they blasted the building with ear-piercing music. Eventually, Noriega surrendered. (In 1993, the U.S. government tried a similar thing during the Waco standoff, with less desirable results.)
Aim a group of giant concert speakers at the infested area and blast the most child-repellent noise you can think of. The vermin will either be driven out or driven insane, which is a win-win situation as far as you’re concerned. A few playlist possibilities:
The O’Reilly Factor for Kids audiobook. Imagine the horror of getting advice on being a teenager from the 50-something who wrote this: “The adult doesn’t have to be in the room snappin’ to OutKast, but one of these specimens must be somewhere on the premises.”
Jimmy Buffett’s “Margaritaville.” Scientists have proven that listening to this song causes acute hemorrhaging of the eardrums in anyone under 47.
Old people complaining. Nothing is more aggravating to kids than listening to their parents and grandparents tell the same sob stories of how hard life was when they were young. Simply recruit an old person, give them a microphone, and get them to babble about any of the following: their polio-stricken little brother or sister, the war, or their alcoholic father who lost his job at the plant and beat them with a belt.
4. EXPLOIT THE NEVERLAND RANCH RESPONSE. If all else fails and you still can’t bring yourself to torch it all, there’s only one weapon left in your arsenal. Convert your farm (at tremendous expense) into a magical ranch full of exotic animals, amusement park rides, famous people’s remains, and gigantic silk-covered beds. Then invite the children over for a slumber party.
Just as a gazelle is born knowing to run when it sees a lion, today’s children are born with the Neverland Ranch response, an instinctive compulsion to run away when confronted with exactly this situation.
A HORROR MOVIE PARENTING GUIDE
Being in a horror movie is hard enough. Raising a kid in one can be hell. If you’re the proud parent of a creepy child, keep this quick reference guide handy in case of emergency:
SYMPTOM: My child’s imaginary friend is “talking” through his or her index finger.
TREATMENT: Your child’s “imaginary friend” is actually a very real manifestation of his or her psychic abilities. Therefore, listen closely to whatever it has to say, and act accordingly—even it if tells you to cancel travel plans or cut your spouse’s head off.
SYMPTOM: My child is speaking a language he or she never studied.
TREATMENT: This is a classic demonic/satanic possession symptom, though it can also result from a mischievous ghost using your child as a human hand puppet. (Note: If your child is speaking Latin or speaking backward, you’ve definitely got a possession.) Either way, summon a Catholic priest, who will be able to determine whether an exorcism is necessary (if so, see this page).
SYMPTOM: My child is having conversations with the TV or dead people.
TREATMENT: Your kid is probably being visited by a lost soul with some unfinished business or who is just looking for companionship. Usually nothing serious. In fact, the ghost can be quite nurturing and educational. However, they can cause physical harm in rare cases. Proceed with caution.
SYMPTOM: My child’s nanny just hanged herself in front of us.
TREATMENT: Unfortunately, your child is the seed of Lucifer, heir to the throne of eternal agony.
SYMPTOM: My child screams obscenities at me, slams doors in my face, and tells me that I’m going to rot in Hell for all eternity.
TREATMENT: There’s nothing wrong with your child.
As powerful as they are, demons lack one thing we puny humans take for granted: a body. But every so often, Satan paroles an inmate and sends it topside with explicit instructions: Hijack a vulnerable human body. What does Beelzebub want with a measly meat puppet, anyway? Simple. The scales of good and evil are precariously balanced. Tip them ever so slightly in one direction (a handful of demons taking human form will do it), and before long, God’s on the ropes.
Spend enough time in the Terrorverse, and you’ll encounter a human who’s the subject of a hostile takeover. When you do, it’s important to act quickly and decisively, because the fate of the world (and perhaps all of existence) is in your hands. So keep your cool, and know your rites.
1. CONFIRM THE NEED FOR AN EXORCISM. You don’t want to go through all the trouble of carrying out an ancient ritual only to discover your supposed victim merely neglected to take their meds. The Catholic Church created strict guidelines for the rite of exorcism back in 1614—guidelines that have remained largely unchanged in 400 years. However, one notable amendment came in 1952, when priests were warned not to confuse mental illness with demonic possession (as opposed to the old days, when the two were inseparable). Look for the following signs to determine that an exorcism is more urgent than a shrink.
Telepathy. A demon will be able to mine your thoughts for fears, regrets, and embarrassing details as well as project nightmarish visions into your head. It may also be able to predict the future.
Telekinesis. Demons have the ability to mentally manipulate objects—making doors slam, shaking beds, hurling knives across the room, etc.
Language. When possessed, victims are fluent in languages they’ve never studied (usually Latin). They may also have the ability to speak backward or in multiple voices.
Appearance. Eyes that have changed color or gone completely white and skin that is pale and covered in lacerations are sure signs of demonic possession.
2. GATHER THE REQUIRED TOOLS. You’re going to need help, and lots of it. According to the rites of exorcism, only an ordained Catholic priest can perform the ritual. So the first “tool” you’ll need is a man of the cloth. The rites call for an older, morally pristine specimen. But forget the older part—performing an exorcism is like going 12 rounds with Ivan Drago. The elderly need not apply. Your priest should be in killer shape—well rested, with zero emotional baggage. No recently deceased parents, no scandals, and no deep insecurities. If he’s hiding anything, the demon will sniff it out in a heartbeat, and your padre will be at risk of becoming possessed himself.
The next “tool” is a physician. Both you and the victim are likely to get some cuts and bruises during the exorcism. It’s best to have an able-bodied M.D. on hand, just in case. The doctor should be the same sex as the victim (to avoid any scandalous touching that might empower the demon).
And then there’s you. You’ll be on hand to provide whatever physical and moral support you can, beginning with gathering the following items:
Bible. These can be found in most hotel rooms.
Crucifix. Not too big or too sharp.
Holy water. By the bucket.
Surgical masks, gloves, and rubber boots. Blood and vomit will be flying.
Rope. For tying the victim to the bed, and for tying the bed to the floor.
Warm clothes. The temperature is bound to drop as the demon does everything it can to make you uncomfortable.
Fresh coffee. It’s going to be a long night. Keep the pot full.
3. PREPARE THE ROOM. First and foremost, the room should be on the ground floor. Too many priests have been lost as the result of accidental or intentional leaps from high windows. If the victim’s bedroom, often the easiest place to stage an exorcism, is on an upper floor, move the victim to a bedroom on the ground floor. Place a plastic drop cloth on the floor and set all the collected tools within easy reach. Finally, remove all occult objects. Some of these may seem innocent, but to the trained exorcist, they’re express lanes to downtown Hell:
Stuffed animals. Children practically worship their precious bears and ponies. Such idolatry is expressly forbidden by the Ten Commandments.
Dungeons & Dragons. A game created by the Dark Lord to lure young nerds into his service.
Harry Potter books. Never mind that the letters in “Harry Potter” can be rearranged to spell “Thy Terror, Pa!” (“Pa” is an obvious reference to God.) These books encourage young readers to imagine a world filled with ghosts, witches, and naughty children. And imagination is the devil’s playground.
Non-Christian albums. These are music to Satan’s ears.
Computers. The Internet is a haven for smut peddlers and secularist bloggers.
4. START WITH A PRAYER. Any prayer will do. Make sure to ask for God’s divine assistance with the difficult task ahead, and profess your personal unworthiness as a sinner a few times. Throw in a little Latin for seasoning.
5. TAKE ROLL CALL. Place one hand on the Bible and the other on the victim’s forehead. Command that any demons present reveal themselves. The demon will begin to resist. Ignore it and continue to step 6.
6. READ SCRIPTURE. The following passages are recommended in the Catholic Church’s official rites:
John 1:14. “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.”
Mark 16:17. “And these signs will accompany those who believe: In my name they will drive out demons; they will speak in new tongues.”
Luke 10:17-18. “The seventy-two returned with joy and said, ‘Lord, even the demons submit to us in your name.’ He replied, ‘I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven.’ ”
Luke 11:14. “Jesus was driving out a demon that was mute. When the demon left, the man who had been mute spoke, and the crowd was amazed.”
7. COMMAND THE DEMON TO LEAVE THE VICTIM’S BODY.
This is where the priest’s voice should reach full fire-and-brimstone pitch. Make repeated references to the power of Christ. Repeat this phrase over and over again: “Depart then, impious one! Depart, accursed one! Depart with all your deceits, for God has willed that man should be his temple!”
8. BE READY FOR DEMONIC COUNTERATTACKS Your demonic foe won’t go quietly into that eternal night. It’ll do everything in its considerable power to confuse, tire, anger, and manipulate you. If given the chance, it’ll kill you, too. Everyone on the exorcism team needs to stay focused if there’s to be any hope of success. And to do that, they need to know what’s coming:
Personal insights. Nothing that comes out of the victim’s mouth (including vomit) should be given a second thought, no matter how personal or painful it is to hear.
Visions. Don’t take anything you see at face value, no matter how real it seems. This includes the appearance of dead friends, dreamlike flashes of hideous faces, and images of your own death.
Vulgarity. Catholic priests are celibate, and there’s nothing demons love more than pushing those dusty buttons to make them sweat. Be ready for pornographic dialogue.
Displays of power. Levitation, window rattling, temperature fluctuations, electrical disturbances, appearance changes, furniture moves, and head spinning, to name a few.
9. MAKE SURE THE DEMON’S REALLY GONE Sometimes, those tricky little hellions will pretend to flee in the name of Christ when in fact they’re just laying low until you leave. So before you go ahead and proclaim victory over the armies of the damned, it would behoove you to conduct a few experiments to confirm the total absence of the demon:
Have the victim take communion. Minions of Satan don’t react well to the Eucharist.
Take the victim to a zoo. If the animals become uneasy, you’ve still got a problem.
Give the victim a bath. Don’t tell them that they’re bathing in holy water! If they do fine, the demon’s fled.
WHEN PERFORMING AN EXORCISM, READING SCRIPTURE CAN DIFFUSE A TENSE SITUATION.
There’s an old axiom, “Tomorrow is promised to no one.” Well, that goes quadruple in the Terrorverse—especially when you do something to raise the ire of the Reaper. Maybe you watched a cursed videotape on a dare. Maybe you escaped some gruesome fate you weren’t meant to escape. Or maybe death just has a good, old-fashioned grudge against you. When your flight to the afterlife switches from “delayed” to “now boarding,” you can adopt one of two philosophies:
“A dying man needs to die, as a sleepy man needs to sleep, and there comes a time when it is wrong, as well as useless, to resist.”
—Stewart Alsop
OR
“ ’Tis very certain the desire of life prolongs it.”
—Lord Byron
If you decide that it’s useless to resist, don’t waste another precious minute reading mediocre metafiction. Get out there and live the next seven days like you’ve never lived before. But if you agree that the desire for life prolongs it, spend each day as follows:
DAY 1. HAVE A GOOD CRY. You deserve it. Finding out you have only a week to live is a good excuse to throw a pity party. Take a day to curl up with a box of tissues, a container of rocky road, and the dulcet tones of Oprah. Feel sorry for yourself. Feel scared. Feel free to get stinking drunk.
Better? Good. Now get over it, you pathetic mess.
DAY 2. PARTNER UP AND START SLEUTHING. If you’re going to beat death, you’re going to have to face it head-on, and you’re in no condition to do it alone. You’ll need a partner, preferably an uncursed person of the opposite sex, who will bring some much-needed perspective to the situation. Plus, you’ll get to sleep with her later in the movie. Everybody wins (including the audience).
Together you should set off investigating the source of the curse. But before you hit the road, get on the Internet. Horror movie characters usually find valuable information online—especially if they’re in a sequel.
YOU
My God … look at this.
(clicks mouse)
There are hundreds of Web sites and message boards about people who’ve died after saying those magic words. Boy, if only I’d learned to use a computer before today, huh?
Armed with whatever information you can find, start pounding the pavement looking for additional clues. Return to the tomb you raided or track down the relatives of other victims. The hope is that you’ll follow the breadcrumbs all the way to the source of the curse’s power and find some way to appease it, thus lifting your death sentence.
DAY 3. STALL THE FILMMAKERS. If your investigation hasn’t met with any success by Day 3, it’s time to think about slowing this process down. Trip up the filmmakers using these passage of time countermeasures:
Dress in period costume. Viewers will wonder if they’re watching a flashback.
Stay away from clocks and calendars. Instruments such as these make it all too easy for the director to illustrate the passage of time.
Avoid montage-related activities. The last thing you need right now is a montage to burn through a few days in matter of minutes. (For a guide to montage activities, see this page.)
Don’t waste time sleeping. You probably skimmed “How to Stay Awake for a Week” (this page), thinking, “I’ll never need this.” Well, you need it now. Every moment spent snoozing is a moment on the cutting room floor.
Keep talking. Especially when you’re on the move. Filmmakers tend to condense travel into a few shots. But if you continue spewing dialogue while you’re on the move—especially dialogue relevant to the story—they’ll be forced to keep it in the final cut.
DAY 4. SET YOUR AFFAIRS IN ORDER. If you haven’t solved this thing by day four, it’s time to consider the possibility that you’re not being asked back for the sequel. I’m not telling you to admit defeat—not by a long shot. But I am telling you to be smart. To get a few things out of the way while there’s still time:
• Create or update your will.
• Write your memoirs.
• Tell the people you love that you love them.
• Tell the people you hate that you hate them.
• Make any necessary religious pilgrimages or preparations.
• Go skydiving.
• Spend an obscene amount of money on yourself.
• Give an obscene amount of money to a hobo.
• Kill the hobo with your bare hands just to see what it feels like.
DAY 5. TRY TO CUT A DEAL. Things aren’t looking good. Fighting death head-on is getting you nowhere. Maybe you’re going about this whole thing the wrong way. Maybe you should be negotiating with death. Maybe there’s something you can do for death in exchange for getting the curse lifted. Carry out some kind of errand? Pass the curse to others? Kill a hobo? Wait … you already did that. Point is, this is a horror movie. Death is everywhere. If you want to talk to it, all you have to do is close your eyes and open your mouth.
Wait till nightfall, find a nice, spooky place with no one else around, and invite death to the bargaining table. Just close your eyes and speak into the darkness:
YOU
Um, Mr. Reaper? Grim? You there? It’s me. The one who you’re coming for in 48 hours. Listen, um … I was wondering … is there some kind of arrangement we might be able to work out? Quid pro quo? I scratch your robe, you scratch mine?
(nervous laughter)
Death? Hello?
Since you’re in a movie, death will give a clear signal if the answer is “yes.” A candle will blow out, a wolf will howl, or (if the filmmakers are feeling uninspired) the word “yes” will write itself in a foggy mirror. If that’s the case, great. Let the negotiations begin. If not …
DAY 6. HAVE ANOTHER GOOD CRY. Other than praying for a favorable last-minute plot twist, there’s not much that can be done. You might as well enjoy what little time you have left. Are there any items on your Day 4 list that you didn’t get to?
DAY 7. FIND A DE LOREAN. You’re probably going to die today, my friend. Don’t feel bad. You tried. But in the end, “Tomorrow is promised to no one,” right?
It’s time for one last cross-genre Hail Mary pass: time travel. Find a local scientist, physics professor, or inventor, and beg for help in throwing together a time machine (assuming there isn’t a De Lorean in the garage already). If you manage to build it fast enough (before the screenwriter gets wind of what’s happening), it just might work.
Using the machine, go at least one week forward or backward. If you go backward, you can avoid doing whatever it was that got you in this mess in the first place. If you go forward, then technically you’ve lived longer than the one-week limit on your life, and beaten the curse.
SATAN CAN APPEAR IN MANY FORMS. HOPE YOU DO NOT SEE THIS ONE.
In the unlikely event that you’ve read this book from beginning to end, you’ve learned how to deal with some pretty unsavory characters. But nothing you’ve faced so far can come close to preparing you for the most dangerous character the Terrorverse has to offer:
The devil himself.
This isn’t some second-rate demon moonlighting as a little girl. It’s not a clumsy wisecracking slasher or a killer doll. This is Satan, people. Lucifer. Mephistopheles, if you will.
Take every bad thing that’s ever happened since the dawn of time—every injustice, every murder, every war, every tragedy, and every broken heart. Multiply the sum total of all that pain to the 48 billionth power, and you have roughly the amount of evil Satan sprinkles over his morning cereal.
The point is: Satan is very, very evil.
And not just evil—all-powerful. Pound for pound, el Diablo is every bit as omnipotent as God (in the Terrorverse, anyway). You? The puny horror movie character? Not so much. There’s no clever trap you can set. No magic words that will make him disappear. When Satan says “die,” you say “how violently?” It’s that easy. Unless you have the balls to stand up to him.
Picture this: You’re battling the devil. Maybe he’s in human form, or maybe (budget permitting) he’s chosen a more traditional representation—a red, fire-breathing goat-demon combo of some kind, each tooth a sharpened gargoyle. His tail whips back and forth, smashing nearby statues to pieces. His horns belch black smoke as he saunters toward you. You flatten your back against the cold stone of the exhibit hall, cornered, trying not to stare into those eyes—those dead, sulfur-yellow eyes. This is it. This is how I die. No awkward product placement or jarringly good dialogue can save you now.
He leans in and opens his jaws—the heat coming off his skin blisters your forehead. His breath takes years off your life (irrelevant, since you’re about to die anyway).
And then you remember. There is one thing that can drive the devil away.
SHOW HIM YOUR PENIS. When the devil has you at claw’s length, you need something shocking. Something dramatic. Something that will make the entire Terrorverse collapse in on itself. And there’s only one object with that much power:
A penis.
I offer this simple equation: Full-frontal male nudity (P) does not exist in the Terrorverse (T). Therefore, if P is present, T cannot be present. And if T is present, P cannot be present.
In other words, if a man lets it all hang out for the world (i.e., the audience) to see, whatever movie he’s in cannot, according to the laws of movie physics, be in the horror genre.
If you have a penis? Marvelous. Drop your shorts and make Papa proud.
If you don’t? Find someone who does, and fast.
It may seem like a juvenile response to a desperate situation. A sad attempt to mask fear with immature humor. Maybe it is. But would you rather die with dignity or live with nudity?
Are you not—despite everything you’ve been through—still alive after all these pages? Put your faith in this last step, too. If you’re ever face-to-face with Satan, show him the goods.