Andrews, author of the 1979 horror bestseller Flowers in the Attic died in 1986. Yet, she has written dozens and dozens of books since she started pushing up daisies. How? If we monsters told you our secret, we’d have to kill you. . . . . too.
Humans are lazy. They say they like sports. Maybe they even do—a little. I see mortals at the bars, wearing their team jerseys and t-shirts. After the game, they go home and take them off. What? If you really loved your sport, your merchandise would be worn all the time.…
Monsters like the good old days, when there were no rules and children were there to be terrorized. Some of you remember when it was quite acceptable for teachers to make students stand in the corner. But then came all those new guidelines requiring us to be civil to youngsters.…
Good weather? Check. Babes in bikinis? Check. Beer? Check. Sunscreen? Check. Hot dogs? Check. Massacre? Uh, what? I didn’t order a massacre. That’s really going to ruin the chill vibe of this otherwise calm swimming respite. Gauze? Check. Ambulance? Check.
“This still says ‘Burma’! Time to update the globe in my hellish lair.”
We read this right before an amputation. Get it?
Actually, that’s not life doing that. It’s us. You just can’t see us because we’re invisible. And angry that you’re here. This house is haunted. Surprise!