"I am filled with passion and often act wildly." William Tecumsah Sherman.

"That kind of stuff will get you dead. And I mean really dead, the kind of dead that will affect you for the rest of your life." Laura Cox.

When you believe in things that you don't understand . . .

Hey

As mentioned last issue, I went to Lexington weekend before last, to Scarefest. I was a bit ambivalent about the trip, it was going to be nice to get away for a while, but I wasn't expecting much from the weekend itself. As per ususal, at least for me, anticipate a lot, end up sorely disappointed, anticipate little and . . .

This issue will be devoted solely to Scarefest, next issue we'll get back to all the other "what has Bill been doing" nonsense.

(I'D CALL IT MONKEYSHINES).

Of course you would. Also, going to break this trip up into categories like The Scourge of Belize etc. rather than try to do a sequential narrative like the Scourge of Prague, Africa, etc.

Company- went down with Brian, Apex promoter and Affiliates world champ, and his wife Ashley. Brian has a reputation as a violence prone nut job, legit, and it's mostly deserved. He spent eighteen months in jail around 2004-2005 for hitting an old woman at a show in Beckley in 2003 (apparently he was coked out of his mind when he did it), also somewhere around then he was shot five times by his Dad (the reasons for the shooting vary wildly between Brain and his father), still got a bullet near his spine, he's this big (6'2", 275) wild eyed, spike haired, tattooed biker looking guy that most people, even most of the workers, are scared shitless of.

As for me, I don't sweat Brian and his crazy ass image, cos for one, I don't think he's really crazy. Old Doc Bitner sees Bri's problems, mostly behind him now, as due to immaturity (issues with anger management) and excessive drug consumption, both of which have improved greatly since I first met the guy three years ago. For all the seemingly out of control tantrums he threw while Danny and I worked for Apex- TV tapings on Saturday mornings were a chore anyway, made all that much worse waiting for Brian's inevitable meltdown and top of the lungs threatening to dismember someone- I noticed pretty quickly he was always in control of who he screamed at. Case in point, he never took issue face to face with the Death Falcon once, the few times I pissed him off he always took Danny outside and screamed at him instead, "You tell that fucking Bill-", "YOU tell him", "Like I said, you tell that fucking Bill". So, he ain't crazy. And he's off the drugs. As am I, so all's well there.

Also for two, when he's not being a raging dick he can be very personable, I've never had a problem getting along with him. So, even though the entire MWA, Apex, and XMCW locker rooms told me I was out of my fucking mind for traveling with this human time bomb when they heard about this trip, I honestly wasn't concerned. And I turned out to be right.

As for his wife, she's very nice, was in a horrible car wreck a couple years ago that shattered her lower spine, she can walk but is still medicated to the gills, she brought along their Lab puppy Jasmine for company (very sweet dog, I've always been partial to Labs) and spent most of the weekend in the hotel room.

The event- Scarefest. Horror and paranormal festival, aka geeks on patrol times infinity. Lots of interesting booths (and interesting people running them, which will be addressed further in the sex column), although I wasn't the only one to notice the horror fans and the paranormals- and I use that word advisedly, cos they weren't even CLOSE to normal- didn't mix all that well, both seemed to look down on the other. I have to say those amateur ghost hunters (apparently the new in thing among crazy fuck nerds, one of whom I saw there at SF was one time AWF promotor, googly eyed Joe C {he can see around corners}, who you may recall from years back I got pissed at and called a "cross eyed cocksucker", I've since found out he's gay, oops, but he was civil when we spoke, it was my VIP pass no doubt) with a mixture of psychics and aura gazers and such thrown in, made the goofiest of goofy ass horror fans look like just plain folks. Not that all was love and kisses inside the respective camps, at one point a couple of hayseed Bigfoot hunters almost threw down, "Your Bigfoot is bullshit, ours is real!", "Naw, OUR Bigfoot's the real one, yours is bulllshit!". Like the Muslims and Christians they were, and totally fucking hilarious.

Anyway, we get there and are greeted by Brian's buddy Jeff (they used to wrestle together), the guy running the whole damn thing, who hands us our VIP passes and tells us "have fun". I most definitely took old Jeff at his word, cos these passes, boys and girls, were nothing less than the keys to the kingdom. There were various levels of visitor passes, up to the $105 dollar gold passes, press passes and vendor passes, but only the talent, the attending celebritres, got VIP passes, and do you think Bill milked his instant VIP pass "celebrity" for all it was worth? That, and then some, children. That, and then some . . .

The celebrities- in order of meeting them. And in caps, cos they deserve it.

TOM SAVINI- as soon as we got our VIP passes Jeff said Tom S wanted to talk to Brian, he wanted to get Jerry Lawler's e-mail address. Okay. So we walk back to celebrity row, go up to Tom sitting at this table, Brian introduces himself and tells Mr. Savini he doesn't have Lawler's e-mail address, but he does have his phone number. Now, Tom has a reputation for being very intense, and he looks it, swarthy, solid black helmet of hair, same color crazy looking eyes, big arms in his tight brown t-shirt. He hops up and goes "I don't want his phone number, I want his e-mail address!" Brian's kind of taken aback, but Tom's blown his image cos he's about as tall standing as he is sitting, and the table was hiding a considerable beer gut. It should probably go without saying, but Bill was already well lubed (Honker Ale, more later), so I went, "Ease up, Tom, we just got here." Meaning, don't make me kick your ass first thing. Tom looks me up and down, then at the VIP pass- you can see him thinking, "This guy must be somebody, but who?" and then goes, "Okay . . . give me his phone number". For the rest of the weekend, every time I'd start to get all cranked up, Brain would go "Ease up, Tom, we just got here." Funny.

DAVID NAUGHTON, looking a bit haggard, but a very nice guy, felt bad for him cos he was being mostly ignored for the DR crew across the way, to be fair I'm sure a lot of the crowd hadn't even been born when American Werewolf came out, that movie gave Loretta nightmares after we saw it summer '81 while living at Carolina Beach (the memories . . . ) and I thought parts of it were pretty damn scary as well, had a long conversaton with old Dave, told him, loudly, cos as mentioned, I was already buzzed as fuck, "American Werewolf in London beats the piss out of anything those fuckers over there ever did" which is true, but I felt sort of bad later after meeting "those fuckers", aka the DR bunch, cos they were cool guys as well.

PJ SOLES, who still looks pretty good, got a picture with her sitting on my lap (again, it was the VIP tag, serious) that I've got to get from Brian to put in here.

DEVIL'S REJECTS (SID HAIG, BILL MOSELY, TOM TOWLES, MIKE BERRYMAN)- surprisingly nice guys. Sid was a bit pompous, but still cool with us, had lunch with them on- Sunday? I'm thinking, that whole weekend, while not a blur- no, not a blur at all, in fact, it's all still very vivid- all sort of runs together into one great big GOOD TIME, sorting out what happened when is kind of hard- it was great to hang out with these guys and get treated as equals, not marks, they were all fascinated by the whole pro wrestling thing, we're wanting to hear movie stories and they're wanting to hear wrestling stories, bonded with my new buddy Tom T over The Wild Bunch, which he also fucking loves, excellent taste, my friend, they all agreed to be in Brian's movie (his pitch line was "It's Wrong Turn meets Deliverance" which seemed to hook them) but they all also, bless them, told him to go to film school first.

KANE HODDER- I thought he was Diamond Dallas Page at first, he looks so much like him (Hey, man where's Kimberly?!) if huskier, he played Jason in a lot of the F 13 movies, we ran into him leaving the hall one afternoon going to get lunch, or beer, depending on if you were Brian or Bill, I struck up a conversaton with him, he also was nice as hell, again, I don't know how much of that came down to our VIP passes, talked him into having a couple beers with us (he even bought a round, what a guy). He's no kid either, we talked about how much working out hard sucks at our advanced age, and how difficult it is to just try and gut it out when your body is actually breaking down on you. But you still gut it out.

Drinking/Drugging/Stripping- this all sort of goes together. The tone for the weekend was set when we got to the motel (very nice, and we got our room for a third of what it normally went for, again thanks to Jeff), we arrived right at 5 pm on Thursday, coincidentally when happy hour began in the hotel bar, as we're registering Brian's cell phone rings and some guy says don't spend any money yet, he's on his way to meet us and the drinks are on him. Certainly works for me.

We go down to the bar and are met by this chunky little fellow, who goes-

Chunky Little Fellow: Remember me? 
Bill: Not really. 
CLF: You beat me up. 
B: Oh . . . sorry.

Turns out I didn't really beat him up, he's the guy DFZ worked in Tennessee this summer, Cody Mathews (work name, I have no idea what his real name is). I didn't recognize him from Adam, to be honest can already barely remember that match. Kind of scary.

The good news is the beer is on Cody. The bad news is all this piss poor bar has got on tap is Amber Bock and Bud Light. Sweet Jesus, they shouldn't even be allowed to call themselves a bar, seriously. After a truly nasty Amber Bock, I switch to Bud Light. It's like drinking fizzy water, but I figure if I throw enough of them down eventually I'll get a buzz. I throw down eight (plus the one Amber Bock) by the time Happy (ha!) Hour ends at 7 pm, we go to- I'm not sure, I think it was Applebee's, it was one of those chain-y things like that- so Ashley could eat, their beer selection wasn't all that great either (I'm not a snob, I just like what I like), drank a couple 20 oz. Heineken while they ate, we took Ashley back to the room and met Cody at this strip club, Cowboys (we went past the one right next to Wal-Mart, bizarre zoning to say the least) found out later Cowboys was not the best club in town, no shit, but it was the one Cody could get us in free at, the dancers- and I use the term loosely- were for the most part pretty good looking- there was this one girl a bit too big for her job, but she'd still be best in show at any bar along Rt. 60- but except for two of them, they were all so tranked out they could barely move- I swear the pole was holding a couple of them up, and when they'd come to the table to ask if we wanted lap dances their speech was so slurred you could hardly understand them. Xanax nation for real.

Conversed with the two of them who didn't drool when they spoke, one, Shannon, was a very attractive young (I'd guess late 20's) woman, easily the best looking dancer there, with an incredible, natural body, and who, even though I declined a dance, laughed when I said she looked like the only one who wouldn't fall asleep in my lap, and also who, when I told her "Whoever you're going home to tonight is a very lucky guy," grumbled "I wish he thought so". Jesus, I can't imagine the man who could take that for granted, but I guess he's out there.

The other sober dancer, Heather, was comparing tats with Brian and went off into some kind of Wiccan/pagan deal (it had to do with her tattoos) and asked if she was freaking us out, I told her no, I had a dauighter who was crazy like that as well, she asked how I felt about it and I said she's my daughter, I love her without reservation, next thing I know poor Heather's crying-

Brian: Give her some money! 
Bill: That's not why she's crying. 
Brian: But it'll probably help.

-about how her preacher Daddy had disowned her over her pagan beliefs, and how she wished her Dad was as cool as me- thanks, and maybe ouch.

Not the best time I've ever had, not the worst, Shannon was an absolute treat to look at, but that look and no touch thing is ulitimately just frustrating, and the beer, while again free (God love you, Cody), was Bud. So we left about 2 am- not sure how it got so late on us, something about the time distrortion factor in strip clubs. Cody wanted to take us to a party where he knew a couple of girls who would have sex with one another for crack-

(ISN'T THAT REDUNDANT?)

-the other crack, but neither Brain nor I were really interested, so we went back to the room instead.

Next day (Friday) we took Ashley shopping (covered in purchases section) and ate (covered in food) before going over to Rupp Arena around 4 pm to get our VIP passes (aka the keys to the kingdom). Scarefest itself didn't start until 6 pm so Brian and I then went into this billiards place there on the bottom floor for some- you guessed it- beer. I ordered a pitcher of Honker Ale- yeah, cute, and the tap is a goose's neck- but the beer was very good. Unless you're a Bud Light guy like Brian, the Honker was too strong for his weakened taste buds so he got a BL and I drank the pitcher by myself. As I did the second one. Brian went to wander around- "I can't drink that much this early", "Early?". I drank my second pitcher and chatted up the bar maid (business was slow), found out that her name was Kim, she liked older guys (she guessed my age at forty and I didn't correct her) and she got off at nine. Thing is, by the time nine rolled around I was getting off myself, or at leat well on the way, so I didn't make it back to pick her up, and she wasn't working the next day when I went in. Oh yeah, also found out that Honker is brewed in Chicago and isn't that big a seller but they keep it on tap cos the owner likes it.

Then I strolled on over to Scarefest where you may have heard I was a VIP. That wasn't the end of the drinking by any means, (got a Kentucky Ale at the Bigg Blue Martini in the Ramada, no good, weak and sour) but we'll incorporate the rest of it into other sections.

Purchases- we took Ashley to a couple malls early Friday afternoon (couldn't get up any sooner), something Green, and Franklin- or maybe it was Franklin Green and something else, this destroyed brain thing is getting to be annoying- in one of them there was this nice, double decker book store, Bill got (cos SSSLB) a Filmfax magazine, a Squadron Supreme comp, a Power Man comp, and six, count 'em, six, Hard Case noirs, all for under thirty bucks. Amazing. Also got at Scarefest, in addition to a bunch of free promo stuff (t-shirts, programs, etc., that the marks had to pay for) a DVD of Galaxy of Terror (five bucks instead of fifteen- VIP, baby), a SIX DVD set of Spectreman for FIFTEEN bucks insted of fifty- did I mention I'm a VIP?- a bunch of Apex SF mags for free, and a couple of signed Jeff Gaither prints- he does this colorful, insane 60's looking stuff I like a lot, and was a very cool guy as well, we had a couple enjoyable talks- and that would have cost your average rube $40 apiece- don't laugh, he sold a couple hundred at that price in just two days- but cost my VIP ass $20 for both. We'll discuss the various merits of the books and DVDs next issue.

Eating- didn't eat much at all this trip (at one point I heard Brain whisper to Ashley, in all seriousness, "He doesn't put nutrition in his body, he just drinks"), although I did eat some Candy Friday night. I did have two foot long chili cheese coneys at the Gold Star in the Mall Friday afternoon- dangerous, I know, but I only kept them about half an hour- ate a turkey bacon ranch sandwich at the Arby's at Rupp on Sunday, all the solid food I took in between Thursday noon and Monday noon. Wasn't hungry. For food.

Psychics/auras- talked for a while on Saturday with this lady who took aura photos, very pleasant, but I didn't wanna pop $25 for a photo of me with sparks coming out of my head, I see that all the time anyway. I've discussed in here before how I've been told I have an unusual, "electric blue" aura, there was a lady across from the photgrapher who could supposedly see auras, since it was a bit slow and- swear- cos I was a VIP, aura reader said she'd read mine for free, and without any prompting from me, told me I had a "very strange blue aura". "Would you call it electric?" I asked. "Yes!" she says, "that's a perfect description".

So three (all of them free) aura readings I've had, years and miles apart, see the same odd color around my knucklehead, which is hard to ascribe to coincidence, but I looked on the aura chart and blue auras are supposed to indicate calm and composed folks, so, I think they're missing the boat there.

Also, on Sunday, shook hands with crazy ass, German accented psychic James White, friend of my new friend Lyz (later), who latched onto my paw and went all crazy German psychic on me- "Ease up, Jimbo"- and told me I had one of the most powerful auras he'd ever encountered, "Of course I do", it was almost overwhelming "Of course it is", but again he lost me when he talked about how positive my aura was, he did say, "The war between light and dark in you is very strong", no shit, but said the light was now ascendant, I was coming out of a long dark period into an extended period of light. Well, let's fucking hope so.

(WHAT'S THAT MEAN FOR ME?)

Well, when James asked me what I did I told him I wrote and wrestled, sort of left the scrapyard out of it, and he told me I would be reaching higher levels in both of them as soon as November. Now, he's no doubt full of Teutonic shite, but within an hour of his prediction Brian and I ran into the guy who books for FCW- he's the guy who sold me Spectreman for one quarter price- who said he wants to book us after the first of the year, says he'll pay our expenses to Florida plus $300 a match (says his normal draw is 1500-2000). HE may be full of shite as well, but the timing WAS weird- not to mention right after that I talked to the guys at the Apex SF mag booth, told them I was the Apex Heavyweight champ, (they could already see I was a card carrying VIP), they want me to bring the belt down (they publish out of Lexington) and do some cross promotion photos for the mag, also when I mentioned the upcoming DFZ and Monster, they asked for review copiis, then asked me if I'd consider writing for them. Asked me if I'd write for them, like I was the one doing them the favor. Yeah, I think I could be talked into that. So, James, lets hope you're on target, you demented old fuck.

Movies- hung out some with the folks from ZPI Productions, out of Louisville, Lyz works for them, make up artist/actress is what her business cards read, nice people all, and the film of theirs I watched wasn't bad at all- no Johnny Boy, seriously, which by the way is playing tomorrow- rather, tonight, Friday- at 8 pm at the WV Film Festival in Sutton- but not bad. They asked me to come down and do some work for them, and I think I will.

Women- okay here's where we come to the good stuff. If tales of Bill screwing make you squirm, or they make you jealous or whatever, skip this section. However, if they appeal to your prurient interests, then like a good American- read on.

I've said that the crowd at Scarefest was geek nation times infinty, and it was, more hygenically, sartorially, sanity challenged beef on the hoof than you could possibly hope to throw a corral around, or a net over, but it wasn't long before Brain and I noticed this most curious phenomenon. There were about half a dozen truly stunning women walking around SF all wearing variations of this boots and tight, low cut dress outfit, one, even though dark haired, was this six foot Valkyrie looker who I actually turned my back on, cos to look at her was to incite my fevered mind, and would lead to nothing but trouble. We asked Jeff if they were plants, he said no, just fans.

(I GOT SOMETHING THEY CAN FAN RIGHT HERE).

You and me both.

On our first pass through the convention hall, Bill focused on this one booth near the entrance, selling- I don't know, looked like trinkets to me, jewelry and stuff, with a horror theme. What caught my eye- and a lot of other male eyes as well- were the vendors, three quite attractive women, a blond, a brunette, and a redhead- the latter two actually an orange and black head, being dye jobs. The brunette had huge tits and was wearing a corset that drove them up into her chin, but the overall most attractive one was the blond, Candy, very hot in her short, backless red dress.

She was also the flirtiest- they were all flirting with the marks, it was part of their selling schtick, just lke their outfits (an effective tandem too, you better believe), I realized that- Candy was wearing this pair of skeleton hands in her cleavage, so it looked like some skeletal fucker was trying to climb up out of her bosom, though he'd have been a damn fool to do so, she pointed to them and said-

Candy: You need a pair of these. 
Bill: How about I just play with yours?

-which was entertaining for a while, but as I continued to hang out at the booth we started hitting it off on a little less superficial level. They all dressesd sort of goth but talked more like flower children, somewhere in the conversation Candy remarked she'd just missed the 60's, having been born in '70, so she was no youngster- there was this VIP dinner starting at 9 pm across the way at the Ramada that the SF folks were pushing huge as the event of the weekend, and the only way you could get in was with a- you got it-a VIP pass. Or maybe on the arm of some guy who has one.

Being only somewhat a fool, I asked Candy if she'd like to accompany me to the VIP dinner. She was non-commital, said she'd like to put didn't want to leave her friends stuck working the booth- SF didn't shut down till 10 that night- although Blackie and Orangy both earned my undying devotion by telling Candy she should go, they'd mind the store.

I played it cool- hell, I'm a fucking VIP- told her I was going back to the hotel to get changed, I'd stop back by on my way to the dinner and if at that time she would like to join me that would be most lovely. Back at the hotel I changed into my dinner (it wasn't formal) duds, off white dockers and a lilac polo shirt- I think this outfit it makes me look like a gay bouncer, but Loretta always liked it- hell, she bought it-and I've actually been complimented on it since, there's no figuring taste- Brian's coment was a wry, "You look . . . dapper".

Indeed I did.

They were really busy when I stopped back by, but Candy said she definitely wanted to go to the VIP dinner with me. Hot dog. I offered to wait, but she said go ahead and I'll join you as soon as I can. Okay by me. When she looked away to greet a paying customer, Orangey gave me a saucy wink and a thumbs up behind Candy's back, which I interpreted as a good sign.

Brain, Ashley and I get to the VIP dinner (just across the street from SF) and its kind of weak. No real food, just a bunch of fruit plates, and rows parfait cups full of- froth. Or mousse, if you prefer. Chocolate, vanilla, and banana froth to be exact. I mean, it looked nice, but come on.

The tables seated six, we three sat with a BIG old boy, maybe 300 quivering pounds and his petite, sort of cute if she hadn't been pierced all to fuck girl friend, and another ever BIGGER boy. Big Boy was indignant as fuck, and I don't blame him, seems like the VIP dinner wasn't just for VIPs, it was for the $105 shelling out gold pass suckers to have dinner with the VIPS, and-

Big Boy: They ain't no food here (they wasn't no real VIPs here either, but I wasn't going to get him started on that). This ain't food (he indicates a fruit plate and parfait cup, both licked clean). Where's the sammitches (and I swear, he actully said sammitches)? For a hunnerd bucks there ougtha be sammitches.

I think he had a valid point. Then he started in on the punch-

BB: This punch ain't no good. 
Girlfriend: What's wrong with it. 
BB: It ain't got no floaties. Punch ain't no good without floaties.

We tried to determine what BB meant by floaties- looking at the guy, my money was on sausages-Brian finally asked him, best he could decipher BB's answer, floaties meant sherbet. Bill wasn't there to hear it, cos they'd opened the cash bar, and guess who was first in line. Kinda pricey- and it would get worse, but worth every cent in the long run.

I'm on my second or third beer of this session- the Honker had been that afternoon- when one of the door guys comes over and tells me there's someone wanting in, says she with me. Then for Christ's sake man- let her in.

Candy sashays in looking incredibly edible, gives me a hug, and seals the deal with the first words out of her mouth- "Where the bar?" Oh mama, I think I'm in love.

We go up to the bar where she orders vodka, with a splash of cranberry. I almost swallow my tongue when the bartennder say it'll be eight bucks- but if a few drinks will induce Candy to swallow my tongue later, keep 'em coming, barkeep.

Candy and I continued to hit it off at the dinner, we had a lot in common, she was bright, and had a wild sort of edge to her I found very attractive, as we all know, Bill's always liked the bad girls, we both liked to drink, and dance- they opened up a dance floor which is good for many reasons when you're trying to make time, after a few heady hours for Bill, and five vodka and cranberries for Candy, with the "splash" getting progressively smaller each drink at Bill's request, and at the end of a particularly, uhm, moving, slow dance, I made the suggestion we find some place where we could be alone, and dear sweet Candy couldn't have been more agreeable.

That was easier said than done- I was about to drag her into the men's room, and I doubt she'd have protested- God bless vodka- when we found this storage room where I think they kept the extra chairs that were currently in use in the ballroom. In we go, the door has barely shut behind us before she's on me, even quicker than I can get on her- I love that in a woman- the kissing and groping is really intense, and I think, the only thing keeping her dress on is this one little knot behind her neck (I knew she had no bra on, wasn't sure about panties). We've come this far, so . . . I pulled the knot.

I'm pretty sure you know what happened next, and no, she didn't slap my face (my ass some, later, yeah). I'll spare further detail, other than to say that what happened in the storage room happened up against the wall, as the room was devoid of furniture, and that rug looked like it could give you a nasty burn.

And that's where we'll wrap up tonight. There's still some Scarefest left- we haven't even gotten to Lyz yet, hell, we're far from done with Friday night- but I'm pretty much done with this night, and issue. It's way late, had a hard day at the scrapyard today, and since I'm not drinking- DFZ has work to do this weekend- I don't have all that wonderful energy that alcohol provides.

Later

Bill