I had a dream last night. You may ask, WTF does that have to do with anything, Rod? Well, I’m glad you asked, dear reader. The dream was not a vague one, not a foggy one that you would forget 30 seconds after awaking. This was a vivid, linear, and quite frightening dream about a blob.
My dream starred, of all people, Kevin Bacon with support from Shu Qi (in her underwear). We three were in a strange basement and although I spent most of my time ogling Shu Qi in her white cotton panties and spaghetti string T-shirt, I did have time to push Kevin forward near the blob.
Kevin curiously reached out and touched the creature, who at the time, seemed inert. The touch resulted in its reawakening. The blob itself was about eight feet tall and four feet in width and breadth. It was of a translucent nature, looking similar to a giant squirt of the alcohol-based hand sanitizer you see in most hospitals.
The blob oozed out around Kevin’s hand and pulled Kevin toward its middle. Kevin was quickly sucked into the creature. Kevin floated inside the creature as if he was treading underwater. We could see him clearly and witnessed thethat was to come next.
Kevin looked straight at us and then let out a silent scream. Then his flesh began to dissolve as if it were in acid. The creature filled with Kevin’s blood and turned a light red. Through the misty mixture of plasma and creature liquid, we saw Kevin disintegrate until his skeleton was all that was left. Then the skeleton dissolved, too.
Needless to say, Shu Qi and I began succumbing to our fear of death. She began to sweat profusely, making her scant clothing as see-through as the creature itself. I pulled my eyes away from her hard protruding nipples to grab her arm. Pulling her up the stairs to the main floor of the house, we thought we had escaped.
But at the last step the creature shot out a part of itself like a frog’s tongue and attached itself to Shu Qi’s left foot. She screamed and let out a bunch of words in Mandarin that I couldn’t understand but knew were the equivalent of “Oh shit!” in English.
She begged me not to let go of her as the creature’s pull became stronger and stronger. But my hands slipped from her waist, and gosh-darn-it, didn’t they rip the shirt right off her torso. I watched half in horror and half in a state of sexual arousal as she bounced on her tits down the stairs into the creature’s custody.
When the creature caught me in its grip a few minutes later (I couldn’t keep my eyes from looking on Shu Qi’s demise long enough to escape), I woke up.
Now you might be asking yourself what the hell does that have to do with Rob Hardcore? Well, dear reader, the point is this: Did you find my narrative frightening at all? After a few minutes of being conscience, a dream that I thought was as scary as Shirley MacLaine after an all-night bender, seemed more funny than frightening., Mr.
There is a simple explanation for this. It is impossible to make a blob of any type scary. The 1958 original might have frightened a few of the baby boomers back in the simpler days of our collective past, but today it looks as stupid as the Attack of the Killer Tomatoes. The 1988 remake was just as foolish.
Rob Zombie has his hands full with this project. If he pulls it off we here atwill be quite surprised. Our guess is Rob Zombie’s The Blob will replace House of 1000 Corpses as the worst film to date by the .