Romance of Mystery

FITTING PUNISHMENT- TALES FROM THE CRYPT
Directed by Jack Sholder
Written by Jonathan David Kahn, Michael Alan Kahn, and Don Mancini
Starring Moses Gunn, Jon Clair, and Teddy Wilson
Take out your notebooks, everyone. Today we are having a little lesson in payback. It�s fairly common knowledge that nothing good ever happens to stingy people. Just take a look at that Scrooge fellow. It never pays to be a penny-pincher, does it? Ahh, but if only someone had told that to good ol� Ezra Thorntonberry. It would have probably saved him a great fortune� by the end of his ordeal he had already spent an arm and a leg. And maybe a pair of feet. Oh, there I go again, prattling on and getting ahead of myself. Maybe it�s best if I let the events speak for themselves.
A funeral service is taking place within the parlor of dear old Mr. Thorntonberry (Moses Gunn) when a young whippersnapper named Bobby (Jon Clair) stumbles in straight off the pickup truck from a normal teenage life turned upside down. Bobby sees what a nice guy Ezra is when he offers up honey-glazed condolences to the family of the deceased before bringing the hurt down on his slavish organ player and chief indentured servant Clyde (Teddy Wilson).
Turns out Bobby is Ezra�s nephew, but the old coot finds more pleasure in hearing the gory manner in which his sister died than getting the news that he is now Bobby�s legal guardian. So what�s a father-on-the-fly to do but share a bonding moment with Bobby? Namely by yanking a gold tooth straight out of a dead woman�s stiff lips in order to hawk it for some quick bucks!
I ain't payin' no tree-fitty to no Crypt Keeper!
As if this and the wonderful closet that Ezra has given Bobby as a bedroom weren�t cool enough, the mortician takes the lad under his wing as an apprentice corpse cosmetologist. But Ezra�s idea of a beauty makeover is of the stuff 'em and bury 'em variety. After draining one corpse (regarded as a "cesspool" by Ezra) our lovable undertaker refills the body with good ol� American water straight from a filthy tap. Screw that formaldehyde crap! We�re running a business here and frivolous expenses like that have to be cut. Ezra�s charm even includes purchasing coffins made in Taiwan (despite them being a tad shorter due to the peoples� average height) that he delightfully sells for full price to his mourning customers. Don�t you just want to give him a big ol� hug?
Amidst complaining about cadavers stinking up his parlor and slapping Bobby upside the head for being a damn fool in general, Ezra orders his put-upon nephew to take the measurements and coffin specifications of the Geoffreys boy downstairs. After the service a few days later, Ezra is consoling the solemn Mr. Geoffreys who takes one last look at his son before the burial. But what�s this? The coffin is made of pine when Geoffreys had specifically asked for oak! This tomfoolery cannot be tolerated and the elder Geoffreys insists on getting "the best for my son."*
*This guy was apparently upset for a total of thirty-six seconds before he noticed the mistaken coffin. All concern and sadness over the loss of his child was dropped like a sack of cadavers in favor of nitpicking over which executed tree the little snot was placed in. As much as an ass Ezra is to everyone, I think Geoffreys' fathering skills need to seriously be scrutinized. I got news for you, daddy-o: the worms don�t care what type of bread you put on their sandwich.
"Now does it hurt when I do this?"
As you could probably guess, Ezra is not overjoyed to hear this news; it means that (gulp!) he�ll have to open his wallet again! A punishment is in order, and Ezra is enthusiastic to hand out the floggings. Poor Bobby tries to explain to his uncle that he did in fact specify oak but his declarations of reason are a little hard to hear under the DEATH-BLOWS FROM HELL that rain down on his spinal cord from Ezra�s crowbar! Bobby can�t handle a good beating and the doctor that arrives later (Ezra informing him that the injury was due to the rambunctious tyke suffering a spill after running through the house) gravely informs the mortician that his nephew will never be able to walk again.
Wuss.
The medical bills begin piling up, Crutch-Boy (I mean Bobby) begins whining because Ezra sold his Air Jordans, and they still have that damn pine coffin that�s not being put to use. Hmmm, on second thought, scratch one problem off the list there. Actually, make that two problems. Just as Bobby is sweating bullets trying to get upstairs, he�s met by the grinning Ezra, looking just like a cuddly teddy bear that happens to have a knife behind its back.
"...as a doornail!"
But instead of a blade Bobby gets a face full of basketball that sends him tumbling all the way to his twisted-neck death. Ezra�s a tad perturbed to find out that the lanky boy�s feet extend just past the pine coffin�s ledge, but that�s no trouble an electric saw can�t fix! Even at the burial the doctor can�t help noting the short coffin PLUS the double freak accident that claimed first Bobby�s spine and then his life� but hey, whaddayagonnadoright?!
Our favorite lowly organ player Clyde tells Ezra he�s hitting the road, hinting that he suspects the true cause of the boy�s death, but old man Thorntonberry ain�t taking any of that. He can get along just fine without him (I hear he plays a mean "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes"). That night our unctuous undertaker is trying to get some shut eye when he hears a tap-tap-tapping at his chamber door.
Quit handing out your worldly advice, Morgan Freeman.
Naturally he goes to answer and, also naturally, there�s no one there except the howling wind of the night. Faucets begin to leak and lights are turned on but it takes more than that to put the fear in Ezra�s stony heart. So the forces of the supernatural send Bobby�s basketball thumping down the stairs ala The Changeling in order to inspire some goosebumps. Ezra hardly has time to process this before a severed, bloody, sneakered foot gives him a solid kick in the ass and sends him packing down the basement stairs.
Lo and behold, Ezra�s now paralyzed (being a mortician is certainly a back-breaking undertaking, ain�t it?). But that�s the least of this codger�s worries; the basement doors swing open to reveal Bobby�s reanimated corpse, his stumpy legs grotesquely dangling in the air as he holds himself up on his crutches. His wide, dark eyes stare lividly out from his death-white face and just before Bobby can inflict some due payment on his greedy old uncle via the handy dandy crowbar, he rasps out a chilling line of scripture: "Like it says in the Bible, Uncle Ezra: Blood is thicker than water!" End Scene.
This eerie episode from Tales from the Crypt�s second season is quite underrated in my opinion, and I don�t really know why. Perhaps because it fits into the E.C. mold so warmly and snugly (poetic vengeance from the land six feet under) it tends to go unnoticed amongst its moldy and more romantic partners in crime like the fiery love triangle of "The Thing from the Grave" or the festering zombie crush from "Til� Death."
I don't know about you, but I'm thinking LOVE SEAT!
It�s a little more unique amongst its rotting brethren, retaining a nice urban flavor and attitude that compliments the dog-eat-dog world view of Ezra�s character quite nicely. It could very well be a segment straight out of Tales from the Hood; couldn�t you just imagine our good, wild-eyed friend Mr. Simms pouring his giddy, warped heart out at the prospect of presenting a tale about a fellow man of the funeral cloth? Yes, yes, I can see it all now� *Cliché harp strumming* But instead we get the Crypt Keeper playing hoops with dusty skulls, so I think we can safely say that all is right with the world in the end.
Although the cast is filled with fully capable thespians, it�s Moses Gunn as the despicable Ezra that steals the show (even though I�m partial to villains, I think it was the filmmakers� purpose to put this fiend front and center for all of us to hiss at). He never makes you doubt that he is the real deal; his deliveries are short and crass and nearly everything that comes out of his mouth is filled with hatred. He pulls the cantankerous skinflint bit off extremely well. But you can tell that underneath all of the character�s unpleasantries that Gunn is delighting in his juicy role. And there�s plenty of meat here for everyone to enjoy. And maybe, just maybe, we might be able to take away a little bit of Ezra�s philosophies to only better our own lives.
After all, dem funerals sure ain�t cheap.
Satan bless us, everyone!

Labels: 1990S, Fitting Punishment, It Came From The Devil Box, Tales From The Crypt, Television Series, Zombies

Everyone knows that Friday the 13th is an unlucky day, but just why is that anyhow? The Olivers are a couple who are willing to find out, and Mr. Rockwell, their eloquent host for the evening, gives them a ghostly history lesson on the dark beginnings of that most despised calendar day. It�s in his brooding 16th century mansion that Rockwell explains that Friday was the day of Christ�s crucifixion and, as he puts it, was the one occasion when the Devil had won over God. Fear and superstition of the dreaded 13th day has plagued mankind ever since.
After the mood is set, it only comes natural for the trio to journey deep into the family crypt for a little midnight tour. Peters the butler warns them not to enter the cobwebbed chambers and gives Rockwell a revolver loaded with "dum-dum bullets," a weapon guaranteed to work against any hostile supernatural force they might meet along the way. And from the looks of it they�re gonna need them: the Olivers are paying a little visit to one of their host�s ancestors, Erick Rockwell, alchemist extraordinaire! The old bloke gained infamy since he had a bad habit of murdering young girls, collecting 13 drops of blood from their bodies in order to fix up a mean cocktail that had the power to rejuvenate!
As crazy as the old wizard might have appeared, it seems his elixir actually worked, being that he was over 100 years old at the time of his execution in 1623 and didn�t look a day over 40! Not appreciating Rockwell�s recipe for health shakes, the courts saw it fit to burn the devil at the stake for his odious crimes. But apparently even that wasn�t enough, as a few choice bones from Erick�s body made it through the inferno and are now being held within the family vault. Harry Oliver�s none too thrilled with the human artifacts, but his wife Judith can�t help but be entranced by Senor Erick�s grinning skull. So much so that she cuts her finger on the iron chest that house the bones and an exact thirteen drops of plasma smack against ol� Erick�s parched teeth. Uh oh.
Later in their bedroom, Harry and Judith discuss the possibility that Rockwell is two rungs short of a full ladder after the host goes into a frightful fit at the sight of Judith�s blood soaking in his ancestor�s crusty maw. But that doesn�t explain how there is no sign of Judith�s injury anywhere on her hand or how the hankie used to bind her wound is now completely clean. As the blaze from the bonfires set by neighboring countryside farmers light up the dark night in order to drive away evil spirits, a hideous stepping and dragging is heard in the hallway. Rockwell recalls with horror that his ancestor suffered from a lame foot (he was a lousy dancer too) and the men soon barrel out into the corridors to seek out the terror.
Of course they leave Judith completely defenseless, making it an ample opportunity for Erick to make his grand entrance. The skull-faced fiend cackles deliriously as he closes in on the heroine, promising to make her his zombie slave and regain his full form by stealing an additional 13 drops of the red stuff from her. Ever the gentleman, Erick takes his snack away with him kicking and screaming to the Forbidden Tower of Horrible Death in the Castle�s Keep. Returning from their fruitless search, Rockwell and Harry realize the terrible truth when they see a skeletal footprint (!) in the dusty floor. So the two dum-dums barrel through the mansion Scooby Doo-style to reach Erick�s wretched laboratory in the tower before it�s too late.
Meanwhile, Erick uses his mystical powers to control the helpless Judith as she prepares for her own sacrificial ceremony. In a doubly sadistic and kinky moment, the breathless ghoul urges the gal to light the ceremonial black candles and pour a delectable mixture of melted newborn baby fat and the "holy oil of Hell" while he laments over his stiff, bony appendages. Hmm. Just when things are reaching the boiling point, Rockwell and Harry come pounding on the door in typical heroic fashion. Erick mercilessly taunts them and compels Judith to acquaint her entrails with the blade of a sacrificial dagger, but the sorcerer�s hypnotic hold is broken when the two dunces crash into the room.
They try to ruin the revenant�s fun by knocking over the candles and oil, instantly setting the entire tower ablaze, but Erick isn�t one to be hampered so easily. He takes Judith up into his scrawny arms and goes merrily snickering away before Rockwell guns the fool down with the revolver. Turns out the bullets were fashioned with the symbol of the cross carved into them and the holy slugs have reduced Erick to the immobile pile of bones he was before. Soon the entire mansion is consumed in flames (when are they not?) and the chiming of midnight summons the end of one helluva Friday the 13th�


"The Devil�s Number" is pure pulpy fun from one of the very first pioneers in audio terror, kiddies! This May 2nd, 1938 broadcast comes to us by way of The Witch�s Tale, the demented brainchild of Alonzo Dean Cole who invited his regular listeners to the howling hut of Ol� Nancy the witchy-poo her ownself and her incessantly yowling black cat Satan, voiced by Cole himself! Every week Nancy would ask us to stare into the glowing embers of her fire as she wove another ghastly play for our eerie ears. "The Devil�s Number" is a deliciously grotesque episode (and I say that with love!) that puts you in just the right frame of mind for the type of putrid programming to be expected from our hostess with the mostest.
Seeming to have taken inspiration from the countless pulp magazines and "weird menace" titles that stared lividly out at salivating young readers with their luridly painted covers of beautiful bound maidens and sweating, yellow-toothed fiends from the drug store racks of 1930�s America, "The Devil�s Number" throws all the insidious ingredients of those stories into one bubbling cauldron to create 30 minutes worth of auditory unpleasantries just dripping with foggy atmosphere and dusty antiquity. The heroes are daring, the damsel is modest, and the villain is so wickedly evil that you won�t be able to keep yourself from cracking a twisted grin at the sound of his guffawing skull. Radio fans shouldn�t miss this one for the world; it�s that classically spooky type of yarn that we relish more than all the rabbits feet and horseshoes in the whole world.
Give it a listen (along with a plethora of Ol' Nancy's other yarns) here.

Labels: 1930S, Friday The 13Th, Horror On The Airwaves, Old Time Radio, Sorcerer, The WitchS Tale, Zombies