Saturday, March 30, 2013

It's a Happy Easter for Somebody

Happy friggin' Easter!

Oh, look, here I come, Peter Cottontail, hoping down the damned bunny trail!  Hippity, Hoppity, on painful corns all the way!  Corns, I should say, that are the size of grapes and brimming with purple-tinted puss.  Is that magical enough for you bastards?

Santa has a magical sleigh to get around the world, I have size 12 clompers with size 15 calluses and ankles bloated up to the size of tractor tires.  All to deliver brightly colored eggs to a bunch of hyperactive brats who afterwards will run around the walls of their houses like one of those redneck motorcycle cage acts at the county fair, just with less wreckage raining down on some 40 year old woman in a bikini.

And do you have an idea where those eggs come from?  Let's just say I make them ... personally.   That's all you need to know.  After Easter, I can only sit down with the aid of a donut shape device, and some years it requires a lot of stitches with some reconstructive work that uses medical-grade pipe cleaners.

Oh, but you need your sugar, you little monsters.  I hope you choke on that candy bar!

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Werewolf Bongo Party

At last!

Of all the posts on this blog, there is finally a post that speaks to me, to my problems, to my needs, to everything Fruit Brute and absolutely nothing to he-who-should-not-be-named -- but who's name sounds like "Count Crap" and who's initials are Go Die In A Fire.

I can't wait to see what wholesome, slightly lime-flavored werewolf-cereal themes are featured in this short!

The very nice Mr. Rogers Vampire.

Damn it all.  I should have known with this blog.

Right out of the gate, a vampire.  Already this short is failing at it's stated premise.  No party.  No Bongos.  No werewolf.  Surely, out of all the monsters, the werewolf must be next!  He's in the title!  Werewolves are just as famous as vampires!

It'll certainly be the werewolf!

The bells, the ... no, wait ... the bongos, the bongos!

%!^!&#!@ hunchback.  A hunchback.  The music has bongos in it, but that's not enough.  You can't make up for lack of werewolf with a wood shop coffin, a 3rd grade art -- after milk and cookies -- scenery project, and a hunchback who's makeup seems to consist entirely of mashed potatoes.

It's got to be the werewolf next.  I can't possible be disappointed with something so absolutely silly it barely registers as an object existing in reality.

Can I?


The vampire's bride: the only vampire in more danger from her fangs then her victims.  She's good for two things; making the little holes in belts and for proving, in a court of law, that her vampire husband is not very picky.

After all this, I'm sure the werewolf will be a let down.

I honestly hope that's drool.

Or not!

Look at that drooling, snarling piece of work.  Now that's a werewolf!  A pretty risqué one as his first act is to immediately kidnap and carry away the vampire's bride.

The vampire doesn't stop him.  It's understandable.

Why, I do believe I'm perplexed by all the strange goings on!

Watching the whole proceedings is this lovely lady with a hair style crafted onto a single 2D plane,  probably held in place by Crisco and hopefully not werewolf spit.  She sits mutely throughout the short, staring straight ahead, clutching her purse.  Is this evil castle of mild vampires and rug remnant werewolves also home to purse snatchers?

Or does she think the hunchback is expecting a tip?

There's some strange voice over in this short that makes me wonder if it's part of some other uncompleted movie.  Imagine, an entire movie dedicated to goofy vampire wives, werewolves, and bongos.  It will always just be a dream.

Note to self: Don't start the dancing before the paint on the set is dry.

The werewolf get to pawing our vampire bride, being careful not to scrap up against the two inch whale bones she calls fangs as the werewolf's tetanus shots aren't up to date.

Throughout this 30 second ... mauling ... of the most ludicrous type ... the woman can hardly stop from laughing.  She tries hard, though, because if she opens her mouth too wide she'll choke on those fangs.

I must have skipped the dancing chapter on werewolf lore.

The rest of this short is a lot of pathetic go-go dancing.  I should point out one interesting thing: in all these 60s nudie cutie films, this is the first African-American woman I've seen, and, *sigh*, she doing a jungle dance.  She does a great job, but the women behind her are just swaying back and forth as if they are slightly sexy weebles who wobble for werewolves.

They are so terrible it got to the point where awarded best back-up dancer to the werewolf.

After about 3 minutes in, the most appealing thing in this scene became the noose.


A quick note:  All this fun comes from Something Weird Video, as well as a good bit of information.  If you'd like to see any of this stuff, or other crazy exploitation films, it's all downloadable and cheap.  Give them some business!

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Mountains of Mammaries: House on Bare Mountain, Part 7

Start here if new to this series: Part 1

Now, the stunning conclusion of House on Bare Mountain!  Spoiler: There's boobs.

Hopefully this is the fashion police.

As our wild party goes on upstairs, downstairs, and judging by the way Creese is dressed it's downstairs enough to be hell, the police finally close in on Granny Good's moonshine operation.  Granny Good tricks the cops into trying the booze, and they fall instantly into either an alcoholic stupor -- or, and more likely -- their brains shut down attempting to process the image of 250 pounds of perspiring lard in a flapper dress.

Granny Good makes a narrow escape, well, as narrow as Creese possibly could as he's a man that has to be attentive of width restriction when walking through a train tunnel.  But there's more danger that awaits Granny as there's still the problem of the mysterious stranger that's been stalking her.

Did I forgot to mention him?  You could say that, but "forgetting" and "caring" are two vastly different things.

Somebody missed the memo on Naked Twister Party etiquette.

And now one of our jokes comes to a merciful end, as one of our chicks finally finished up the dictionary by reading the last entry, a definition of Zebra: noun; 80s Hair Metal Band.

She rips off her top and the booze fueled party tips into overdrive.  Well, same party, same dancing, just more boobs and less pathetic surprise caveman vampires.

Again, your humble hosts posits that this might be slightly unreal.  I've been to a lot of parties, some with dancing, and not a single woman threw off her top, and I'm certain it wouldn't start a topless cascade reaction.  Hope springs eternal!

First Frankenstein's Monster with nice slacks.

There's 2 minutes dedicated to this woman dancing and the guy in the Frankenstein's Monster costume having the best damn day ever.  She's actually pretty good at the 60s go-go dancing, she twists so hard a couple times you could see both boobs and butt; in comics this is called the BrokeBack Pose.

How is it pulled off?  I'm guess the torque gained from the iron armature that's holding up that huge pile of hair on the top of her head.

Does gluing weasels to your face count as make-up?

So we finally discover the identity of our mysterious stalker -- he's the union boss for werewolves, and Granny Good's been working Krakow too hard!  Also in his list of complains is Granny's demand for cuddle time and how Krakow has to towel Granny off after every bath.  Luckily, that only happens every 2 to 3 years and the blindness usually passes after a week, so it's not too bad.

Do women get upset if they show up to the same party with the same giant frilly panties?

Our parties in full swing, the boobs are out, the glitter is down, and the granny panties are in full bloom.  The Phantom of the Opera seems to be getting his buzz on, the drunk cops are stumbling around, and the carpet is now a class-A carrier of every STD known to modern 60s science.

So we're at the end, and where's our promised twist ending?  One so surprising it turns around the entire picture, and puts new meanings and interpretations to every frame, and ads an especially somber tone to two topless hot babes throwing an oversized beach ball back and forth?

Remember how the film started with Granny Good locked up?

This isn't acting, it's how Creese really treated his actors!

Well, she's actually on the other side of bars, and she's got the cops, Krakow, the union boss, and the female spy slaving away to run her moonshine operation.  Seems a bit risky when they can climb over the gate, and really, the bars are only attacked to cardboard walls ... but who's going to doubt 250 pounds of wet, quivering demon ox flesh in a tight dress?

Somewhere, a really terrible hack script writer is taking notes.

I hope the notes read "more naked chicks" and not "add dumb twist ending."

One related thing next, and no joke: Werewolf Bongo Party.

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Mountains of Mammaries: House on Bare Mountain, Part 6

Start here if new to this series: Part 1

Where did we leave off?  As I remember, there was a dodgy werewolf, a human meatloaf in a dress, and more naked chicks than you could shake a stick at.  Hey, you in the back, sit down, it's just an expression.

This next sequence takes place at a very boozy party.  Here we finally meet the rest of our monster cast, and it was certainly worth the wait, mostly because the movie is only about 60 minutes long and we only had to wait 45 boob-filled minutes.

Let's meet our party goers:

Dime Store Frankenstein Monster

Sadly, he only realized he was being tea-bagged by a balloon monster after seeing this picture.

Yes, here he is, in all his rubber glory, our Frankenstein Monster.  This is actually from Dr. Frankenstein's later period, where he thought a generous overbite would help warm up the villagers to his newest creation.

Sadly, it was a village of orthodontists.  He tragically died from a million small water-pick wounds.

Surprised Caveman Dracula

Vat?  Vat is that?

Our pasty Dracula and his multicolored lips are a sure hit at any party, especially entertaining as he is constantly surprised by finger foods and plastic cups.

I missed the unibrow section of vampire lore, and I should know, I did a report on vampires in high school.  Nobody's surprised.  Except Dracula!

Slightly Sentient Slime Mold

Miss Claus got into Rudolph's hooch.

Granny Good look like a hobo infected with hundreds of internal monster ticks.  Under that 1960s Santa Collection is a tight ball gown.  I'd put up a picture but my Mac refused to screenshot for some reason.  It even threatened to reformat my hard drive.

I think it's for the best, but I can describe it.  Think about trying to force 250 pounds of rotting whale meat through a size 6 nylon stocking.  In summer.  When it's 109 degrees outside.

Racially Insensitive Texas/Sheriff/Mexican/Stage Hand

El Douche, Gringo.

Of course, it's not the 1960 without some offense character wandering into a scene.  Not sure where they were going with this ... did somebody think a drunk Mexican was too much?  And then made him half-sherrif/half-Texas type of dude?  Or was this the original plan and that's what costuming they had?

It's nice to see Carrot Top made the party.

They really went all out on the decorations for this thing.  At least nine balloons, a couple of streamers, and a fancy chandelier they got out of a gum ball machine.

Automated Staircase Bounce-a-matic Flesh Slinky

Hair Bear gets the day off, it's pre-censored!

I've thrown Jello down a laundry chute with less bounce!

Krakov smells the hot dog used to wrap up that hair.

So, back to what passes for a plot in these there hills.

Krakov has discovered our spy and fallen in love with the giant wad on hair that graces her head.  What will become of our spy?  Will the cops make it in time?  Can Krakov find love if their shampoos are incompatible?  Will there be more boobs?

Yes, Yes, No, No, Maybe, Could Be, Seems Positive, Try Again Later.

Next, the stunning conclusion, Part 7!

Sunday, March 17, 2013

Mountains of Mammaries: House on Bare Mountain, Part 5

Start here if new to this series: Part 1

At this point, House on Bare Mountain takes a surprising turn.  Gone is the puerile and overly obsessive focus on boobs.  Branching out into unknown territory, our film skids headlong into a puerile and overly obsessive focus on butts.

Kind of a lateral move.

Paging Sir Mix-a-Lot

There's not a lot to hang comedy on for this segment, but, as I'm sure somebody from the peanut gallery will shout, that's never stopped me before.

It's basically 6 minutes of showering and another minute of bouncing walking up and down stairs.  There isn't even a Granny Good voice over.  As as if Creese just gave up and said "butts".  You want them, I've got them!  All types!  Shaky ones!  Big Ones!  Big and Shaky Ones!

It's the line at the DMV if the "D" stood for "Damn!"

Our lovely ladies saunter from a nice hallway into a nice shower in a nice haunted house ... come on people!  We haven't seen Krakov the werewolf in a while, but we've certainly seen a lot of cracks!  I'm beginning to think the whole haunted house bit is just a ruse.

Thought I'd forget the mirror, didn't you?  No butts for you!

Here's a good place to tell a story, if anybody's made it this far.

When this film was screened in Boston, the chief of police thought he saw some pubic hair through the panties of a model.  He raided the theatre, smashed the projectors, and publicly burned the film.  Think about this: In a film dedicated to showing as many boobs and as many butts as you can jam into 60 minutes, the mere possibility of seeing pubic hair -- through the giant grain sacks they called panties in this film -- caused somebody to put on a spectacle for the press.

Creese phoned up the chief, threatened to sue, and got them to repay for everything and the film continued showing.

Note both Bob Creese and his dog were later shot by the police.  Would make you think if there wasn't more boobs to distract you!

It looks like an emu decided to nest on her head.

Here our plot -- sort of -- comes back into focus.  No, it's not a group of hot chicks getting over their cleaning phobia (they do take a lot of showers, something that is to be expected in a haunted house.)  We get hints that there's going to be a party, and this allows our women to bound, though to be honest it's really kind of a hobble because of the high heels, down the stairs to use the phone.

After my shower, there's nothing I love more than high heels and half a genie costume.

When they reach the bottom, they call up unspecified boyfriends and tell them to bring booze.  Probably in an attempt to black out the very memory of House on Bare Mountain.

The really got a discount on that wallpaper!

Our women trot up and down the steps, and one mysteriously does it in a hula skirt.  The rest are tastefully nekkid, as my old southern neighbors used to say.

I just realized: we are halfway through this and the poster promised Frankenstein's monster.  I've just seen one slightly balding werewolf.  There'd better be a Frankenstein's monster, and if there isn't, there will be terrible hell (a couple minutes of whining) to pay!

Finally, Frankenstein's Monster: Part 6

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Mountains of Mammaries: House on Bare Mountain, Part 4

Start here if new to this series: Part 1

Our last segment featured plastic spiders, werewolves made from raiding the combs at the hair club for men, and Bob Creese threatening the very continued existence of the supernatural.  Can this film recover?  Can it get better?

Everybody loves a parade!

You bet your ass it can, and right above is the 10 reasons why!

So Granny Good, dressed like the kind of Raggedy Ann they'd give out to prisoners of Devil's Island, brings out her girls for their morning exercise ... and also for the exercise of a whole bunch of really sad 60s dudes, crouched down in their cars at the drive-in.

Honestly, don't taste any popcorn you might find in the trash.

Best place to have a parade?  Ten feet from a wobbly split-rail fence that protects what looks like a fifty foot drop.  Make sure to wear your best heels!

The first and last thing you see upon entering hell.

Look, you know why we are here, and it's not Creese's ham-shapped mug.  That man probably sweats entire sausage links.  The general orbit of his massive frame is where dreams and the sense of smell go to die.  If this man was dying in the desert, I would not let loose with a single drop of any bodily fluid, including that special organ I have that excretes lye.

There is absolutely nothing worthwhile to say about this man.  I will not change my mind on this, and my insistence on this is not at all a set up for another lame joke.

I think this is called a motorboat slalom...

Thank god for Bob Creese, True American Hero™!

Again, where there any exciting colors in the 60s?  I know the 70s went crazy for them, and I assume it was just pent up demand.  Gray on white.  White.  Some weird industrial-chemical-blue.  Dead leaf brown.

I'm the only one that cares about the color, aren't I?

Hey you, second from right, suck in the tummy!  We're shooting!  You don't want to have a private visit to Creese's trailer, right?  Good, you learn fast!

Making physics interesting since 1962!

I get the feeling this is where many Japanese game developers got a lot of ideas for a lot of games.

Our hot ladies got through a series of exercises designed for maximum bounce.  Many cheat and jump rope by hoping on one foot.  Why do I seem to be the only one that cares?  Can we have some professionalism from our boob delivery devices?

Hanna Barbera's animation studio.
They are almost done with the three cell Huckleberry Hound walk animation.

Next our lovely chicks draw Granny Good.  They all draw her extremely fat.  There was probably a lot of whiskey bottles being broken in Creese's trailer that night.

That awful chair cut off her circulation, she's dead.  Stop gawking!

I hope they steam clean that towel in the bowels of a volcano.

I know I didn't have to point out the obvious with the red circle, but can we get better wig placement?  I hate to say it, but it sticks right out, protruding, right at us.  It's hard to miss!  I don't know how anybody is supposed to concentrate when stuff like that is pointing right at us.

[Note to comedy writers: This is what we like to call "pounding a joke into the ground."]
[Note 2: Don't do it.]


The two women in the background to the left are imitating circus seals.  They want that big beach ball really, really bad.

Remember how this was all taking place at a haunted castle on a mountain?  Somebody seemed to have forgotten that!  Most monster filled abodes now come with a nice in-ground pool and a view of the Hollywood Hills.  At least they decided to frame the half-dead tree.  It's kind of spooky.  Kind of.

Well, Granny Good still scares me.  There's that!

There's more!  Part 5

Saturday, March 9, 2013

Mountains of Mammaries: House on Bare Mountain, Part 3

Start here if new to this series: Part 1

This next section is 95% plot, 5% boobs, and 6,578,882% horrifying drag.  I apologize before hand!

The scariest monster in the whole thing, and I'm not talking about the plastic spider.

Uh oh, I posted a picture and forgot to censor it!  This could be trouble, hold on, I need to correct this ...

I should have censored the shadow, too.

Whew!  So much better.

Granny Goode is sneaking down to her secret cellar to check on her bootlegging operation.  I'd explain this plot further but I very distracted -- I can't stop imaging what it must have smelled like when Creese lifts up that skirt.

If they had put a tent up over the house at that very moment, I think the entire house would be free of pests for the next 62 years.

Hey, get the heels off our chairs!  It's a nightmare to reupholster velvet! 

Here we get the only thing that keeps the audience from running out of the theatre for this segment (other than their pants being down, that is.)  The running gag is this woman was told to memorize the dictionary, and she's slowly making her way through it.  She hasn't reached "modesty" yet.

Not to be too OCD, but the room has a chair rail and none of the chairs reach that height.  Is it too much to ask of the set designer?  It's like this film exists for some other reason than being a good movie?  Is there some focus I'm missing?

Bob Creese threatens a werewolf.  Happened a lot.

When confronted with the supernatural, Bob Creese's default position is to manhandle it.  Werewolves, mummies, yup!  Dinosaurs?  Sure!  Dracula?  Sure!  A Dinosaur Dracula?  Of course!

That's a really icy stare for a guy in a dress, and I don't think Creese is acting.

This is Krakov, the Booze-Making Werewolf, and an excellent band name.

                                         ***                                           *

And now, the second entry in the increasingly outright theft of a signature internet comedy bit:

The Gallery of
Regrettable Werewolf Pompadours

Sorry, Mr. Lileks.  It's a runaway train!

It's what would happen if Elvis was bitten by radioactive mange.

                                         ***                                           *

Disappointing, right?  Well, with the useless plot out of the way, our next segment concerns the morning exercise routine of ten hot chicks and one Bob Creese in some weird sailor/Little Orphan Annie drag.  I guarantee one of those will be sexy.  Which one, is up to you!

It gets better, I swear: Part 4

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Mountains of Mammaries: House on Bare Mountain, Part 2

Start here if new to this series: Part 1

We continue with our investigation of the events at the House on Bare Mountain ... and how all the cryptic clues essential to solving this mystery seem to be boob-based.

Poochy enhanced sense of smell made life hell on the set.

Our spy and one of Granny Good's girls discuss the finer points of drapes/dress matching, who has the most unappealing clothing wrinkles, and if carrying around a vaguely poodle shaped collection of dryer lint works as a fashion accessory.

In between curling their hair with industrial pipe bending equipment, our spy finds out that there's something scary outside.  Other than Bob Creese.

Put up lipstick before bed, saves time in the morning.

Stripping help punctuate the monster discussion.

Absolutely nothing scares away monsters more than women getting naked.  It's sure fire, it's never been demonstrated in any media, especially not movies, that taking off clothes -- in any manner -- attracts monsters.  Trust me, your window, and my werewolf mask.

Anyway, let's move onto what is certainly not the same room with the curtains closed and a bunk bed added.  We've only seen three naked women at this point, and that's nowhere near the promised bevy.  More like a gaggle.

The recommended bunk bed climbing shoe has at least a 3 inch heel.

Our next two beauties get ready for bed by going in and out of clothes.  It seems my bed time ritual of going from day to night clothes has some steps missing ... about thirty-six of them.  Both women have the exact same hair color, a cross between a soggy pumpkin and a bowl of sweet potatoes.

One woman is described as being Russian, while looking absolutely nothing like a Russian woman.  I assume this was Creese trying to find some commonality during the height of the cold war.  He's telling us that no matter how our political systems differ, we can still all agree that women have boobs and butts, and people will pay to look at them.

Truly a sentiment for the ages!

*                                          ***                                           *

And now, this blog presents the first entry in a feature which skirts precariously
close to copyright infringement and far, far away from comedy:

The Gallery of Regrettable Panties

Sorry, Mr. Lileks.  Somebody had to do it.

New from Mother Russia: The neon day-glow bloomer-anties.

                                         ***                                           *

Maybe you should cut down on the washing if it drains all the color from your hair!

Now our film shifts to a high school locker room before the concept of restraining orders were invented.  Granny Good starts a voice over that both pun filled and grating, and one is not the cause of the other.

Please, ladies, don't use the soap like that!  Other people have to use it!  Transfer the soap to a wash cloth, and then dispose of the wash cloth in a crematorium.  You can never be too sure.

Did every color in the 60s have to be so bland?  That tile is the color of mucus from a corpse!

House on Bare Mountain's craft service table.

At the end of our first T&A segment, we get a good look at what was making all the explosion sounds earlier -- a perfectly intact with no signs of damage from an explosion -- still.  It seems the only continuity in this film is that the women still have the same butts from scene to scene.

It looks like Granny Good is running a bootlegging operation, and somehow a werewolf is involved.

Hopefully he's not naked.

Onward to part 3!

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Mountains of Mammaries: House on Bare Mountain, Part 1

With this post we begin our multi-part look at a film so epic, so ground-breaking, so shocking in it's portrayal of normal people caught in the tempest of love, power, and money, that it deserves a deep and introspective analysis.

Are the boring people gone?

Good.  OK, here's the deal.  Boobs.  Lots of 'em, and a werewolf they made by covering some poor schlub in elmer's glue and then rolling him on the couch that the family dog sleeps on.  Welcome to a whole month of:

I consider "white squirted on black paper" as a bad choice of font.

Possible things B&M production stands for other than the obvious:
  • Burger Mold
  • Bits of Moss
  • Butt Machine
House on Bare Mountain is the second most known of the "Monster Nudie Cutie" movies.  Yes, there is enough of that group to rank them, and I've seen them, will write about them, and with that I'm going to whittle down my viewership to a couple small dirty bits of pocket lint that aren't smart enough to pick another blog.

An industrial accident left Creese with Snausages for fingers.

Our movie starts with "Lovable Bob Creese" (this is how he is billed in the credits) doing his best imitation of Jonathan Winters' character Maude as if channeled through Norman Bate's mother and run through a blender set to derivative.

While the billing was "lovable," the real Bob Creese was about as lovable as a tank full of piranhas pumped full of growth hormone while having a particularly bad PMS attack ... in hell.  Creese was called a "gangster" by fellow exploitation film maker Harry Novak.  Most guys in exploitation (and women, like Doris Wishman) were basically in it for the money.  They weren't bad guys, or particularly anything else other than trying to make a buck.  Creese was the opposite; he was angry, mean, a germaphobe, strong-armed and threatened people to make deals, and supposedly installed a two-way mirror in the restrooms.

Of course, he also brought us a lot of naked chicks with hairstyles straight out of a high school production of Hair Spray.  So, half a dozen of one, the great wheel of Karma slowly turns, etc.

No one will be seated during the terrifying stock footage!

Here's Granny Good's School for Good Girls, home to thousands of 60s monster movies, a couple two-way mirrors, and enough stains that if you shined a black light on the walls somebody in the next state would ask you to turn the damn lights down.

There are mysterious goings on, and it's sort of like a Scooby-Doo mystery if Velma wasn't wearing pants.  Rule 34, in effect, which is very useful for scamming search traffic.  Can't wait to check the logs after this is published!

Actors practicing the "react to Enterprise being hit" action.

Granny Good is welcoming a new student, and we get the first mutterings of a plot.  No, it's not aliens with ray guns that melt clothes -- and don't use that -- I've already started shopping around my spec script: Naked Came the Neptunians.

Our two proud parents are ... sigh ... Mr. and Ms. Bumgardener.

The script doctor was Ernest P. Worrell.

For some reason, there's explosion every couple seconds.  It will turn out to be something going on in the house, but for this scene, every explosion is proceeded by a bomb whistling effect.  While this might have been the agents of good taste up in a B-52 above trying to end this film before it begins, the whistling sound makes no sense in later context.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that the continuity editor was a drunk shrub.

That must be one incredibly interesting book!

Here we met our first of many students.  The ads for this film were not kidding when they said "bevy of beauties."  They were kidding when they said "enjoyable," "laugh riot," and "film."

Flour really has it in for Creese after he broke Baking Soda's knees on a gambling debt.

I sure hope that's dust.

Granny accepts our new students and the audience accepts were going to sit through comedy that was old when the first Tetrapod was evolving lungs.  Watching Creese get plastered in the face has it's own benefits, though don't mention that to him.  Really.  Really.

Quick, find our dignity before Creese comes back!

And the plot comes hurtling in like a soap box derby manned by kids with glandular problems who forgot to install the brakes.  It turns out our couple and their daughter are agents looking for evidence on whatever evil Granny Good is up to.

Could it have something to do with the explosions?  The werewolf?  The mysterious call that I didn't mention because you don't care?  It could.  Or you could just tune in for T&A.  There's a lot of it.  Hair Bear is going to be working his afro off!

Move on to Part 2!