The Curator of Schlock
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The Curator of Schlock #426: Beast
Beast Edwige, my long lost kangaroo companion from my misadventures in North America, had returned to me. She was hopping up and down atop a dislodged restroom stall door. Underneath that stall door was the punk in the red bandana, now reduced to a crimson, pulpy mess. The punk in the blue bandana screamed as… Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #425: Barbarian
I was about to be eaten alive by a guy in a gimp suit in the trashed bathroom of my once beloved establishment, The Museum of Schlock. Right as Terror was about to sink his metal fangs into me, a noise arose from one of the stalls. It sounded familiar to me, a grunting I’d… Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #424: The Children of the Corn
The punk in the blue bandana tugged on the leash of the dude clad in stitched leather. “We call him Terror,” the dude said “He likes fresh meat.” Terror grimaced at me with razor sharp chompers. The punk in the blue bandana then pulled out a hunting knife, and sliced my left forearm bloody. Terror… Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #423: Aenigma
There I was, tied to an office chair in a smelly bathroom in the Museum of Schlock, my once proud establishment now overrun by hooligans. The door to the bathroom swung open and in walked a trio of goons. Two were identical twins with curly blond hair poking out through their bandanas, one red and… Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #422: Stepfather 3
I woke up duct-taped to an office chair in the public bathroom on the first floor of The Museum of Schlock. Graffiti everywhere. “Death to the Curator” was tagged with green paint over the door of the second stall. “Get me out of here,” I screamed. I looked around, trying to find piece of broken… Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #421: Stepfather II
“My name is the Goose Lord!” The words were uttered with a grating command. The Joe Spinel look-a-like laughed heartily at the defeat of his two arch-enemies: The Curator of Schlock and the Revenging Manta, the ninja vigilante of downtown Orlando. I was cradling my right hand wondering where my severed index finger had gotten… Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #420: The Stepfather
The Revenging Manta, the ninja vigilante of downtown Orlando, lay in a crumpled heap on the floor of the Battle Beyond the Stars exhibit in the Museum of Schlock. I was still cradling my bleeding hand as my finger had been just bitten off by Count Zarth Arn from Starcrash. “Take care of him,” Count Zarth Arn said… Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #419: Run All Night
I stared at the life-like statue of Count Zarth Arn, the spitting image of Joe Spinell. How it ended up in the Battle Beyond the Stars exhibit was beyond me. I inched my index finger toward the face of Count Earth Arn. And then his mouth snapped on my finger. He wouldn’t let go. I… Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #418: The Manitou
The Revenging Manta, the ninja vigilante of downtown Orlando, and myself were traipsing through the upper floors of the Museum of Schlock. The next room we passed through was the Battle Beyond the Stars exhibit. A wide array of wax statues stood before us. There was Richard Thomas’s Shad, George Peppard’s Cowboy, Robert Vaughn’s Gelt, John Saxon’s… Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #417: Alien 3 (The Assembly Cut)
I walked softly on the hardwood floor of The Fifth Cord exhibit, the Revenging Manta trailing close behind. It was then that I saw the most horrifying sight. One of the punks that had taken over The Museum of Schlock had vandalized the centerpiece of the room, a marble bust of the great Franco Nero. They’d spray… Continue reading
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