Rocky-Mentality Horror Picture Show

I would NEVER have watched that movie if I had known that aliens were in it. I don't watch things with aliens. Aliens creep me out. Skin crawls. Chickenflesh pops up all over my arms and neck. I mean, COME ON. I can't even listen to the music from "Unsolved Mysteries" without wanting to turn on every single light in the house followed by a gymnastic-esque leap onto my bed to prevent the extendable alien fingers from reaching out under the bed and caressing my unsuspecting achilles tendon before WHAM! pullling me into the disecting room on the mothership.

No. I'm not medicated.

But I should be.

Future note to self: DO NOT RENT SCARY MOVIES. EVER. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCE. IXNAY ON THE SCARY OVIES-MAY.

Hmmmm. I feel like I should perhaps explain my complete and utter fear of all things alien. It all started back in 1987... "Unsolved Mysteries" was a favorite of my mother but abhorred by my father. So, being an admitted mama's-girl, I chose to sit in the living room with my mother and watch TV with her as I had received a much-longed-for extension of my bedtime. So the music comes on (at that point I was not Pavlovically trained to fear the pulsating theme song) and I settle down with Mommie Dearest to watch our pre-facelift host greet us with this week's mind-boggling mysteries. The episode that particular night involved a handful of people all claiming to have been "taken." I'm eight. I don't have a fucking clue what these people really mean. I only assume these people are moderatley retarded because McGruff the Dog had warned us, like, duh, DOZENS of times to never talk to strangers or get in a strange man's car. So being "taken" is just stewpid 'cause EVERYBODY, like, knows better than that.

Cut me some slack. I was seven.

So the show progresses and I start to realize that these people didn't get in a strange man's car or get taken from the grocery store. THESE PEOPLE ARE FLOATING OUT OF THEIR WINDOWS AND GETTING LIFTED OUT OF THEIR CARS BY LONG LEGGED BUG-EYED FREAKS.

NOT OKAY.

At this point I decide it's time to get my ass outta there. So I casually extract myself, without alerting my mom to my great and utter fear, and walk down the hall to my parent's room where dear ol' dad is watching a movie. I crawl into their bed and tell Daddy that I don't like what Mommma's watching so I'm just gonna lay in here with him. Nope, he says. I'm watching an R rated movie. You can't watch those yet.

But.... DAAAAAAAAAADDEEEEEEEE ......

Nope. Got back in there with your mother if you want to stay up that bad.

Hrmph.

I'm too scared to actually go in my room, unprotected from the threat of alien abduction, ALL BY MY SEVEN YEAR OLD SELF. So I suck it up and go back in the living room with Mom. Where I wait out, in paralyzing fear, the end of the program-- knowing Mom will tuck me in after the show is over. And knowing that aliens wouldn't DARE mess with me with my Momma in the room 'cause she'll get a hair brush after your ass if you back talk her.

Fastforward-- I've been tucked in and it's roughly two hours later. I have decided that aliens can only see through four layers -- so if I put FIVE layers between me and the aliens THEN THEY WON'T BE ABLE TO SEE ME. (yes, this is what I actually thought.) So between the two layers of curtains and the three layers of bedcovers (bedspread, blanket and sheet) I'm pretty much set. No bug-eyed aliens are going to lift my ass outta my bed and put me in their dissecting room. No way jose.

Naturally, this is where the Fates decide to fuck with a small child.

Tap. tap tap tap. WHACK! tap. tap tap tap tap tap. WHACK! WHACK WHACK WHACK scratchy scratchy tap. scratchy scratchy WHACK.

MOOOOOOOOOOMMMMAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
DAAAAAAAAAAADDEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MOOOOOMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!

They come rushing in the room, thinking I've been attacked by rabid bees or had an arm lopped off by migrating gerbils-- I sobbingly tell them that the aliens are trying to get in my bedroom and that they keep tapping on the window. (From a parent's perspective, the only important part of this statement was the tapping problem. Parent's are adults and know aliens aren't tapping on window. But tapping is suspicious. Parent's job/duty to check out.)

So Daddy loads up his revolver (keep in mind, this was Texas) and heads outside with his giant poacher flashlight. I can hear him going out the front door and stepping on all the pine needles that carpet the front lawn.

Then he starts laughing. Laughing! Evil man!

He comes back in and explains that the "tapping" noise was actually a garden stick that had become a little dislodged and was tapping against my window due to the heavy winds. The scratching noise was two raccoons. Mating.

HARDY FUCKING HAR HAR HAR.

Being seven, I didn't really buy this explanation. I thought it was highly more likely that the aliens had TOLD Daddy to say it was two raccoons going at it when really it was THE ALIENS trying to see if there was an abductable child lying helpless in her bed. Lord Help Me but I was a schized out kid.

[sighs in resignation ]

And now I'm scarred for life. I'm a grown ass girl and I still can't watch Unsolved Mysteries, scary movies or walk down the Halloween aisle where I know there's bound to be bug-eyed alien masks.

The Horror.