The Curator of Schlock
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The Curator of Schlock #445: The Beyond
Edwige, my steadfast kangaroo companion, and I were working our way up the stairs of the Museum of Schlock, trying to get up to the 4h floor. The Beyond exhibit was on the 4th floor. That’s where the Goose Lord gang had taken the Revenging Manta, the ninja vigilante of downtown Orlando. Edwige was just hopping away… Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #444: Visiting Hours
I’ve been warned by my attorney not to mention what happened to a punk resembling Waldo from Where’s Waldo?. I’m not supposed to mention that in a fit of rage at the destruction of the Museum of Schlock’s statue of Carl Weathers that I sicced Edwige, my steadfast kangaroo companion, on him. I’m not supposed to mention… Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #443: The Car
Edwige, my steadfast kangaroo companion, and I were interrogating a punk resembling Waldo from Where’s Waldo?. I slapped him until he confessed the whereabouts of the Revenging Manta, the ninja vigilante of downtown Orlando. “Okay—okay,” he said, spitting up blood. “They’re holding him in The Beyond exhibit.” “One more thing,” I said, Edwige and I giving him a… Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #442: The Christmas Tapes
The punk I named Waldo was passed out. Edwige, my kangaroo companion from my misadventures in North America, had punched him in the sweet spot. I took a can of Mellow Yellow I retrieved from the Cold Drinks machine on the second floor of the Museum of Schlock. I shook the can vigorously, popped the… Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #441: Hell House LLC
I crept up to the red and white beanie poking out among the mannequins from the movie The Warriors. When I saw the hat within arm’s reach, I leaped toward Waldo, only to see that the punk had stuck his hat atop one of the chrome domes belonging to the Turnbull ACs. I heard the punk’s… Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #440: The Last Broadcast
Edwige, my kangaroo companion from my misadventures in North America, and I were searching for Waldo among rows upon rows of The Warriors movie gang mannequins. I kept seeing his striped shirt out of the corner of my eye. Edwige huffed in frustration and I was about to give up the search when I saw the pom… Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #439: Noiro: The Curse
Noiro: The Curse Several years ago, I took great pride in having a display created in celebration of the movie The Warriors, like my own Terracotta Army, but with The Warriors. And mixed in with them was a real life punk in blue jeans, a red and white striped shirt, Coke-bottle glasses, and a red and… Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #438: Cannibal Holocaust
Cannibal Holocaust The punk I’d nicknamed Waldo made a beeline for the Museum of Schlock’s The Warriors exhibit. Edwige, my loyal kangaroo companion, hopped in close pursuit. I stumbled along, still reeling from getting spray painted in the face. By the time I got there, Edwige stood in stone silence. The showpiece of The Warriors display was a hall… Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #437: Intruder
I pinned the punk resembling Waldo from Where’s Waldo? down. I hoped to extract the whereabouts of the Revenging Manta, the ninja vigilante of downtown Orlando. The punk snorted and pursed his lip. Suddenly a stream of spit doused my face. I was about to smack across his cheeks when green spray burned my eyes. The punk… Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #436: Army of Darkness
Army of Darkness The punk resembling Waldo from Where’s Waldo? grabbed his behind while Edwige, my steadfast kangaroo companion, feasted on the punk’s bag of Smarties. I kicked him in the shins and he crumpled to the floor. “Where did they take the Revenging Manta?” I said, attempting to pin him to the ground. “More importantly, who… Continue reading
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