Ghoul-bye to the Cool Ghoul
by The Keeper of the Pit
Hey horror folks and fans out there ev'ry scare! And that said, here ghouls: The news, almost said grues, of the loss of Zacherley so close to Horrorween has us around fear in such a state we can hardly spook. Great guy. The first time the luvva my wife and I met Zach was at one of the very first Chiller Theatres, back at the theatre, where we had the ghouled luck to land a spot at the back wall of the downstairs, hexed to Zach, us and him's elf sharing the whole back wall half and half, Zach on the left, us to the right, I SAID fright.
Zach sees us dragging boxes and signage, sees "The Poster Pit," sez "Poster Pit, what a name. Where ya outta?" You know, words to that effect. Next thing I knew fellow "Pennsylvania person" and Zach and us were off to the races like Pocono body's business. Plus, he kept, okay, I SAID Keeped, directing folks at his adjacent table to check us out "hexed gore," because "They got one great ghoulection!" And he said it, not me, so I hope I haunt being Pencil-vain, ya?
This routine we had went on over the years of shows, when we always stopped at the other guy's tables, told each other the slayfest. And now, may I warn some readers about a little reality check. Yep, Zach and I any given show shot the back on the ole farm shite. One fine Saturday morning we're standing in a crowd of thousands waiting to be let into the Chiller Dealer Room hall, where, I SAID scare, hopefully Zach and us'ns might each make, ahem, a haul.
Heedless to slay, we eeek!-ventually got onto all the awful things happen to animals, barnyard or household pets. I believe it was his brother he told me about, who was a veterinarian. It was a long morning wait to get in the show, but we Zach and I could crack jokes "Gah, gore!" ... and it was a horror crowd, where folks who get squeamish over fantasy or even reality generally can't "B" found.
We'd abat run out on all the bad things that can happen to pets and gored livestock, some animal-inflicted, some human same. We knew we were drawing a crowd, but we were losing 'em by the time we hit debeaking chickens. See, there was this thing chickens did, they liked pecking at the dangling mess of their fellow penmate's condition. See, there was a disease or condition most-often called "chicken blow-out," and when the chicken with it tried to go about its business, the poor creature's intestines would start to trail behind them. Which got worse in that then their fellow captive creatures, being born peckers, simply had to walk behind them picking the trailing, uh, tines, which by then were sometimes several feet long, snake-like, gray, bloody. Spreading more disease the hole slime.
Then scare was discussing the who does what when one needs to. When a farm dog gets into a tousle with a skunk, who gets to hold said creature's whole reeking fulla sharp nasty quills, and who gets to pull 'em out? Whoever does what, trust me, neither guy can be rewarded with nearly enough fi-dough.
Zach, ever scientific, would of curse get into it, ask if I remembered what med ya put in the chickens' water fountains to prevent such conditions from spreading. I did. By the time he got to which job was worse with pigs, castrating them or holding them down for such needs-must-be done brutality, we found ourselves in minutes no longer standing way, way back in line to fright in front of the entrance. And behind us had changed from grumbling and pushing in line noises to a stampede of folks with suddenly anyscare but around us with excuses like "Ooops, I left an autograph item up in the room." And these were hard-core horror fans who knew from the ghouled stuff, like they'd seen "It Came And Left A Mess" with "Glob At First Fright" on a double-chill at the old Grue-Slay Drive-In. Fact, that day, we coulda given Zach's brother, who no doubt knew human anatomy likewise, plenty of upset stomach (w)urk!
Spooking of urky stomachs, again, sorry to have given anyone any degree of queasiness in this piece, but then, wasn't that Zach's job, same as as any of his horror hosts? You know, the ole "Hey, this movie's so ghouled it haunt half-bat." I mean, think on it: Ed Wood any of the gore-iginal horror movie m.c.s have survived the censorly cut had they NOT while hosting their fear features dispensed with the puns and punch dyin's? I stink rot!
So here's, dare I say Pit, tomb the best of them all, by now no doubt up in horror movie heaven draggin' a certain Creighton Tull a"rowl"nd by a Long Chaney. (Hey, ya can get away witch such stuff when yer position in same quarters is so horror high and Karlofty!)
John Zacherle
September 26, 1918 - October 27, 2016
