Alright, let’s get freaky!

Freaky is a slasher comedy film directed by Christopher Landon, who is by now best known for directing the Happy Death Day films, and it stars Vince Vaughn and Natalie Newton. The film centers around a typical teenager named Millie Kessler (played by Natalie Newton), who usually goes unseen by her high school peers. Then one night she has an frightening encounter with a serial killer known as the Blissfield Butcher (played by Vince Vaughn). The Butcher attempts to kill Millie with a mystic dagger, but the dagger makes the two switch bodies. Now Millie inside the Butcher’s body must retrieve the dagger and switch back before the switch is permanent and before the Butcher can add any more victims in her body.

Obviously body-swapping stories aren't anything new in films. You got the two Freaky Friday movies and that one film that starred Kirk Cameron and Dudley Moore. But I'll give the film this much credit that it is unique that the body-swap involves a serial killer. And for what it's worth it's a fun film to watch.

The only reason to see this movie is to see Vince Vaughn act like a teenage girl. His scenes are the biggest highlights in the movie. He's great. I'm not usually a big fan on the guy since he tends to play the same character in most of the movies he's starred in. But it's nice to see him be something else.

The first ten minutes really do hook you into the film. It plays out like a classic slasher film like Friday the 13th (coincidentally this film came out last friday, the 13th). It opens with four teenagers in this big house and Vince Vaughn picks them off one by one Jason Voorhees style. It's pretty good and does help build some tension in the movie. And there are some effect kills and gore in this movie. One in particular is where the Butcher in Millie's body slices up the woodshop teacher with a buzz saw. That was pretty sick.

So the slasher aspect was good, how was the comedy? Now the tricky thing about comedy is that it can be hit or miss. And that's pretty much the comedy in this film, it's hit and miss. Some of the jokes work, like Vince Vaughn acting like a teenage girl, and the teenage friends that help Vince Vaughn out have a few good laughs. But other times the jokes don't always work. They feel like they're trying a little too hard to get a laugh in order to balance out some of the kills.

Also I feel the film becomes a little less interesting when we're following the Butcher in Millie's body. Natalie Newton is good in this film but she's very cold and emotionless as the Butcher. I think that's the point but it's far less interesting when we see Millie in the Butcher's body. The only time it gets good is when she's killing people as the Butcher. How messed up is that?

Also, something I've noticed while watching the movie is that the Blissfield Butcher isn't a smart killer. He (or she?) is leaving fingerprints all over the crime scene. Seriously, every weapon this person touches leaves evidence for the police. But if the police are anything like police in other slasher films, it means they're incompotent. You know what? That's something I want to see in a future film now. A slasher film but on the perspective of the police. I think that could sell tickets.

Overall this is a fun film to watch. I was lucky to see this just before my home state went into second lockdown no thanks to the fucking pandemic. This is a film that doesn't take itself too seriously. There's enough for the average viewer to enjoy. So I'd say give a watch when you get a chance.

Positives:

-Vince Vaughn

-Some good kills/gore

-Some good jokes

Negatives:

-Some jokes don't work

-Less interesting following Butcher as Millie

Final Grade: C+

So those are my thoughts on Freaky. Have you seen this movie? What were your thoughts on it? What's your favorite body-swapping movie or your favorite horror comedy? Please be kind, leave a like and comment, and check out more reviews here on Prose!

Best Quote:

Junkie: "Come back. I'll suck your dick. All of it."

#harrysituationreviews #film #opinion #horror #slasher #comedy

5090 Park Lane Circle was an attractive two-story house in the city of Liston, Michigan. It was built in 1971 and, at that time, it was the home of Mr. and Mrs. Trevor. Mr. Trevor had carried his new wife over the threshold on the day they moved in. Five years later, however, when he left the house for absolutely the last time, he was alone.

The house was sold to the McArthurs, a large family consisting of Mr. McArthur, Mrs. McArthur, Billy, Jason, Michael and Sharon, who was less than a year old at the time. Over the next twelve years, 5090 Park Lane Circle played host to baseball games, movie marathons, tea parties, slumber parties, pancake breakfasts, spaghetti dinners, Christmas parties and the loss of one of the McArthur boys’ virginity.

It was young Sharon McArthur who first made the discovery. She stumbled upon the strange secret of this house entirely by accident and managed to keep it a secret for over a year before the family moved away, deciding that with half their children grown up and moved out, they no longer needed such a large house. The very last thing she did before vacating the first home she would ever remember was to leave a note for the next residents of 5090 Park Lane Circle.

This proved to be the Benningtons. Having only two children instead of four, one of the bedrooms (Michael’s) became a guest room and another (Billy’s) was converted into an office where Mrs. Bennington would work at times when she was not working at the office provided to her by her employer. Her two daughters, Moira and Angela, failed to understand why their mother needed so many offices nor why she needed to do so much work.

Angela found the note Sharon had left as she was moving her things into her new bedroom. She read it, then ran down the hall to where her big sister was moving her own things into her new bedroom. After both of the girls read it, they decided that moving into their new rooms (which was all they had talked about on the long drive from their old home) could wait and they investigated the claim Sharon McArthur had made in her note.

They managed to keep the secret for six years, during which time their mother was forced to do slightly less work until some time after the birth of her first son, Alex. When their baby brother was old enough, Moira and Angela shared their secret with little Alex and he, too, kept a tight heavy lid on it for quite some time.

It did, however, come out eventually, though not through the carelessness of any of the Bennington children. No, it was just one of those unfortunate happenstances which are nobody’s fault but which still manage to ruin things for everyone. The upshot of this particular happenstance was that the Benningtons soon moved away from 5090 Park Lane Circle, which actually sat empty for four years.

When the new owners did finally take up residence, they found a strange and indecipherable note pinned to the washing machine.

As did the family who moved in after them.

As did Carol and Neil Meriwether.

Stuck to the fridge with a magnetic calendar from their realtor was a sheet of paper with a Post-It stuck to it. The Post-It read:

The previous owners wanted me to show you this. Maybe you can figure out what it means.

The note itself read:

Dear new owners,

Welcome to your new home. We hope you will be as happy here as we were. Before you get too comfortable, though, we have one very important thing to tell you:

Don’t move the washing machine.

Ever. For any reason. Do not move it at all. If it breaks, buy a new one, but find someplace else to put it because you must not ever move the washing machine from its current location. Seriously. I know this sounds insane but, trust me, I’m being totally serious.

Sincerely,

Chris Davis.

Carol and Neil took turns reading the note and trying to figure out what Chris Davis was on about. Finally, and without a word, they both went to the laundry room.

Of course, it was really more of a small atrium between the kitchen and the garage. On one side was a cabinet for storing cleaning supplies, and on the other was the washer and dryer. Both of which looked perfectly normal. A bit old-fashioned, perhaps, but still, broadly-speaking, functional. They did their first load of laundry and both machines worked just fine.

Neither of them understood why the previous owner had been so adamant about not moving the washing machine, but they also saw no reason why they would need to move it. So, they threw away the note and promptly forgot all about it.

Two years passed before the washing machine started giving them trouble. No matter how evenly they tried to balance the load, it rocked back and forth. The clothes came out with undissolved patches of soap powder on them. And, finally, Carol went down to move the laundry and stepped in a puddle of water in her stocking feet. It was leaking.

Neil, completely forgetting the warning from the previous owner, mopped up the water with some old towels, then prepared to move the washer so that he could find the source of the leak. There wasn’t much room in the small atrium to maneuver the large, cumbersome machine, but soon he had pulled one side away from the wall far enough that he could get in and try to fix it.

Almost immediately, a bluish blur swept past Neil and, making a horrible squealing sound, scrabbled into the kitchen. Neil could hear its feet clicking against the linoleum. Then he heard Carol scream and ran into the kitchen after whatever it was.

Carol was standing at the kitchen island, making a sandwich. She had dropped both the jar of mustard and the knife she was using to spread it on the bread when she saw the creature which was now running frantically around the living room still squealing for all it was worth.

It was a pig. Sort of. It was blue, with two long tails instead of one short, curly one, and two horns coming out of its head. It was also clearly terrified.

“What the hell is that?!” Neil said.

“I don’t know!” said Carol, who had calmed down slightly from the initial shock of seeing a blue horned pig in her kitchen.

“What do we do?”

“Catch it!”

“What?”

“Catch it, Neil!”

Neil thought for a moment then ran back into the laundry room. He came back a second later with a white plastic laundry basket which he intended to use as a cage for the pig. He charged at the pig which, of course, simply ran away and hid under the sofa. Then darted out and, knocking into a table and upsetting a lamp, hid behind the recliner. Four times Neil dropped the laundry basket on the floor and four times he missed the pig entirely.

“Here, pig, pig, pig, pig, pig!”

Carol had said this as she tipped over the kitchen garbage can. Food wrappers, banana peels, coffee grounds, Chinese take-out boxes and uneaten scraps of meals spilled onto the floor. And even though it had two long tails and horns and was blue from head to toe, it was still, at heart, a pig. It couldn’t resist the smorgasbord on the kitchen floor and while it was preoccupied with a fragment of leftover egg from breakfast, Neil was able to drop the basket and then sit on it. The pig was trapped.

“We got it!” said Carol.

“Yeah,” panted Neil. “Yeah we did…now what?”

Carol didn’t have an answer for this question but, as it turned out, she didn’t need one.

“Oh, good, you caught her.”

Carol and Neil looked up to find a stranger in their home. He might have passed for a normal, stereotypical farmer, in his overalls, flannel shirt, boots and straw hat, were it not for the undeniable fact that his skin was just as blue as the pig’s.

“Mayzie,” he said to the pig, sternly, “you should be ashamed of yourself. Barging into these nice people’s home and making such a mess. Honestly,” he added to Carol and Neil, “I hope she didn’t give you too much trouble. She’s a good girl most of the time, really. Still, I guess we all get a little worked up from time to time. Well, I’ll take her home now. Er, you mind, Mister?”

It took Neil a moment to realize what the blue farmer was asking. Then he stood up and lifted the laundry basket. The farmer picked up the now docile pig (evidently called “Mayzie”) in his arms. He then walked toward the laundry room, Carol and Neil following him closely.

“Well, so long,” said the farmer with a friendly smile, and he climbed nimbly into the narrow space behind the washing machine. But when Neil looked behind the machine a moment later, there was no sign of him. No sign of anything except the bare wall and the wires and hoses connected to the washing machine.

The next person who moves into 5090 Park Lane Circle, if and when Carol and Neil finally decide to leave, will find the non-functioning washing machine bolted to the wall and impossible to move. They, like Carol and Neil, will have to wash their clothes at the coin laundry a few blocks away. Despite this precaution, however, it is likely they will also find a note left for them by the previous occupants, which will read:

DON’T move the washing machine!

Love potions. Such a waste of time. Mr. Heartsick sitting in front of me is starting to ramble. I can’t concentrate. I let him drone on about her freckles and hair and how her giggle makes his chest constrict. When he’s done I’ll give him my speech about how love potions cause a temporary infatuation that slowly fades out, and he won’t listen to a word. He’ll give me almost as much of his attention as I’m giving him my own now. The truth is his only thoughts will be of basking in her infatuation and not a thing about what he needs to do to maintain it. And the truth is that right now. The only thing I’m thinking about is getting a hold of Ty and how quickly he can get me a fix.

As he wraps up his pain-stakingly detailed description of his fair maiden I grab a rose quartz bowl. In goes some cinnamon, vanilla, and cloves. I add some powders that I keep premixed. Dragon’s milk. Rose petals. And just as he becomes too caught up in my ritual to remember every single eyelash he’s ever pulled from her cheek and told her to wish upon, I get to the histrionic part of the show. A single drop of fae blood. Translucent and slightly iridescent. His breath catches as it hits the milky surface. It’s instantaneous. The contents of the bowl turns pale gold and shimmering. It’s liquid light. I fill a vial, and his hand reaches before I’ve even got the cork in.

“I need you to know that this will not cause love. This will keep her infatuated for about a week. The infatuation will slowly fade. You need to have a plan to gain her interest during the time of this infatuation. Help her fall for you. Do you understand?”

He shakes his head and grabs too quickly. I let him leave, though I doubt he has any plan. She won’t fall in love. He’ll sneak her some liquid love into her tea or her wine and become so caught up in her sudden unyielding interest that he’ll never do anything to keep her around.

I’m spent, and I need a hit. I convince Ty to stop by and then knock out while I’m waiting. I wake to his cool hand on my forehead. He looks concerned but also tired. His soft, bright eyes are concentrated frustration with the slightest trace of relief. I miss when those eyes shone with love for me, and I can’t help but feel disappointment in everything I’ve become.

“Mia...Damnit. I thought you said you needed to replenish potion supplies...I thought you were off the coal...”

I think about lying. He won’t believe me, but he might give me enough to make it through the night without the shakes and the sweats. I’m weighing my options when he pushes me off his lap and makes for the door.

“Ty, wait! I have enough for work, so I just need enough for the night. If I could just get like a coin then it’ll make the dreams easier on me...”

“I didn’t bring any. I’m no fool, Mia. You aren’t using five coins a week of fae blood making love potions, which seems to be all you’re selling anymore...”

I can’t believe him. He’s pacing the kitchen clearly unsure of what to do with me. I knew that he probably suspected that I was still using fae blood, but I figured that he was playing along to avoid putting me through having to say it.

“If you want me to stay I can. I can talk you through the dreams. Give you dragon’s milk so you sleep. I can help you relax through them. Help with the shaking. I miss you. I hate to see you stuck on this...”

“Can you go now? I have other plans tonight anyway. I don’t need you to make me feel guilty or judge me.”

I know he’s not trying to do either, but I need him to leave. He looks defeated. He gives me a quick, hurt nod. I walk him to the door. Our hands meet accidentally at the knob, and I see his face tighten. A quick kiss on my forehead and he’s gone.

If Ty won’t help me I have only one other option. I have to go to Callie. The lowest of the low. She’s a disgusting creature. A pixie that feeds off her own kind. It’s bad enough for us witches that are addicted to fae blood, but at least we aren’t spilling our own magic for fun. Maybe for profit or for spells sometimes. But I’d never dream of using another witch’s blood. Not to mention that the mere fact that she is an addict suggests she was doing something unsavory to cause her to get a taste for the drug.

I toss my cigarette out as I hit the buzzer for her apartment. The smell of rotting fruit drifts up to her front door from the alley, and I am torn between wishing she’d buzz me in and hoping I never have to see her again. I hit the button again three times in quick succession and almost immediately receive the sharp click of the door unlocking. The speaker must be out on the intercom. No surprise in this hovel.

“Mia. What’s up, babe? I like your hair dark like that.”

“You gonna let me in then?”

I push past her into the dark apartment. Her power must be out. This small studio is a fire hazard at the best of times, but right now it’s filled with smoke and what looks to be every candle the south side of the city holds. She’s close behind me, so I steal myself for whatever she might ask for in return. She’s horrid, but she’s also smart. My eyes are dilated, and I’m sweaty despite the cold. Not to mention that with her being a pixie she can probably smell me detoxing.

“You’re gonna let me do what I want with you, right, love?” My hand is on the nape of her neck, fingers wrapping through her lilac hair. I whisper into her pale clavicle, and I feel a small shock course through her skin. She leans into me, and I can tell this is going to be easy. I grab her hair hard and push her to the mattress on the floor. An hour or so of my hands and mouth violating her until she’s breathless and disoriented. I let my fingers slowly trace the small, crescent moon birth mark on her hip. She’s calm as she breathes out a light, approving sigh letting me know that we’re even.

“There’s needles and bowls on the mantle, but this time can you take enough so that I can drop too?”

I nod to her, but inside I’m nauseous. She’s going to drop her own blood? I’m no longer sure she’s a safe resource. She’s always disgusted me, but this is low even for her. I’ve never met a junkie using their own blood. Blood releases magic. The more you spill the less the being contains. The more you spill the more you have to use next time. At some point…you only have so much magical blood.

I pull a syringe full from her spidery, glowing veins and empty it into a crystal bowl. I drop the bowl into one of the larger candle’s flames. The smell is intoxicating. Sharp, biting citrus with sweet, sticky sugars clinging to the edges. The blood coagulates, no longer beautiful and iridescent but a matte black mess. I grab a dropper and it takes every bit of restraint I have to feed Callie first. I kiss her mouth open and then let a single drop slide onto her tongue. She smiles and lets her eyes flick upwards as she crashes into easy sleep. I pull the rest out and fill a vial from my bag I left near the front door. Then I take my drop. And suddenly everything is easy. Suddenly Callie isn’t such a disgrace. With her translucent skin and her pastel hair she’s actually quite lovely. I drift into sleep. And I don’t remember a thing.

Erick Stool, or that's what he claims his name is. For eight hours a day five days a week, I watch him babble about a dead sister who every man wanted to get with. I fall asleep for several seconds to wake up to him babbling, trying to hang me with his shirts, saying not to get with his sister. I don't want his sister. I'm not a damn necrophiliac. I kick him back in his place, and check his vitals. No bruises on the patients was Father's only rule. But, this one just made me want to kill him. I mean, his sister died of AIDS. She obviously got around, but now she just lived in his head, pushing him to be crazy.

My phone rang, and I checked the caller ID. Mom. No thanks. I hung up on her two weeks ago, and now all she can do is call me and bitch that I'll get my comeuppance for what I did. Whatever. Stool is up again, babbling about his sister, Shine. What a stupid name for a girl. My daughter, Tiffany, didn't have the best name either but Shine was just a bad name. Mom was having Gina call now. Whatever. I couldn't talk to her either. She knew to text me that it was about the kids before she called. I couldn't talk to her right now either. She'd take mom's side like always. If only she hated Mom as much as I did. Our relationship would be better.

"Sister!" Stool screamed, lunging for an empty chair in a dark corner.

"Shut up!" I screamed, kicking him in his stomach. "She's dead. Will you shut up!"

There was a knock on the door. This fool has a no visitors rule. Who the fuck would break the rule of someone with a contagious life-threatening illness. I opened the door to see a woman standing there.

"Who the fuck are you?" I asked through my respirator.

"Um... My name is Shine. I'd like ot see my brother, Erick Stool."

"Keep dreaming kid," I chuckled, slaming the door shut. "Hey weirdo, guess who's here?"

Pachyrhinosaurus (Pack-ee-rhino-saur-us)

Name means “Thick-nosed lizard”

Part of the ceratopsian family of dinosaurs and close cousin of the famous Triceratops. This dinosaur lived across the northern plains of Canada and Alaska during the Late Cretaceous Period, approximately 74-69 million years ago. It was a herbivorous quadrupedal animal (meaning it walked on all fours), growing to a length of 20 feet and weighing in over 2 tons.

What made this dinosaur so unique is unlike its famous cousin the Triceratops, Pachyrhinosaurus did not have any horns above its nose or brows. Instead, there was a large bony mass that covered much of the snout and brow. Paleontologists used to believe that the mass may have been a large horn that broke off at some point, but that has proven to be incorrect.

One of the most fascinating finds of this dinosaur came in the late 1980s where a massive bone bed of Pachyrhinosaurus skeletons were discovered along Pipestone Creek in Alberta, Canada. A total of 3500 bones and 14 skulls were uncovered, some of which ranged from adults and juvenilles. This discovery definitely suggested that these dinosaurs may migrated together in herds. The cause of death for this herd was probably a failed attempt to cross a river during a flood.

#dinosaurs #paleontology #education #learning #science #JurassicJune

Now that I’m thinking,

Pride Month does not only mean,

Love is love, it means,

You are you.

That is the big message,

I feel is conveyed.

First of all,

I'm straight,

But it doesn't matter,

Who you love,

Is who you love,

A person that loves you,

Is all you need,

In front of you?

If the answer is yes,

Nothing else should matter,

As long as you love,

One another.

Many wish,

They could find love,

In the world,

It is hard to find love,

So quick to find hate,

Since hate is easier,

We need to learn,

That love is love.

Love conquers all,

All love conquers,

I hope to find love,

Everyone does.

There’s this guy that I know

Who causes my face to nearly glow

My heart skips many a beat

My body feels like fire’s heat

Thinking back to the day we met

I’d never known true love yet

That day I just thought him nice

My heart was trapped in frigid ice

I saw him more and more each day

He never seemed to go away

I thought I only wanted a friend

But thoughts of others began to end

My frozen heart was wrapped in chains

Of a lost love that caused much pain

The guy’s warm, sweet smile

Made me happy for a while

Then one day he pulled me near

And whispered something in my ear

I looked at him with questioning eyes

His face held no disguise

His desire was plain to see

He leaned in and gently kissed me

He held me close, hands on my hips

The heat spread through me from his lips

My icy heart melted, the chains fell away

I knew in his arms is where I’ll stay

In that moment, I instantly knew

From then until forever, I’ll never be blue

When I was really little, I had a poster on the wall in front of my bed with different species of dinosaurs on it. It labeled each dinosaur, whether if they are herbivores, canivores or ominvores. It compared and constrasted the human-to-dinosaur height and weight ratio, among other things that I don’t remember about it. I also had a few dinosaur toys that I would play with taking baths in the apartment my mom and I stayed in when my parents first split up. They helped me cope with the change in environment and fed the little bit of curiousity I had, at the time, for science. The poster was trashed when I turned seven or eight. For a while after that, I stopped thinking about dinosaurs.

I remember that the triceratops was my favorite dinosaur (and it still is). For some reason, I found it’s horns and shape cute. They reminded me of my old bulldog, Bruiser, who passed away the summer before my freshman year of high school. Plus, I was thoroughly convinced that they couldn’t eat me if they were to magically come back to life because they eat plants, not meat.

Growing up, I was super religious and I have no clue why. My family (and Catholic school when I was six) encouraged Catholic-Baptist faith and, for a long time, I didn’t know anything outside of God and the Garden of Eden. When it came to things like dinosaur fossils and evolution, I didn’t understand how they fit into the bigger picture. I didn’t deny the existence of dinosaurs, because there was sufficient evidence that, at one point, they did walk the Earth. I was naive when I was little; I thought that the dinosaur-human situation was something like The Flinstones, not knowing any better.

When I turned nine, I started to really question my faith. I was still a devout believer, and no one could tell me otherwise that there was never a man named Jesus who was born from a virgin and Jehovah Himself (not even my Dad, who is a strict Atheist), but the world started to change for me in ways I had never seen before. I attended a private school in the Capital and had a science teacher who was gay. I had never met a gay man before and couldn’t wrap my head around the idea thtat two men could kiss each other and have kids. I wasn’t disgusted by homosexuality - my family just never talked to me about these things. I wish that they did today because I probably looked like an idiot from how confused I was, but I get why they didn’t. I was way too young to understand those things.

The dinosaur issue came back when I was ten and the country was very different. I went back to public school because my parents couldn't commute me back and forth every morning. I knew that “faggots burn in Hell” because my classmate told me so when I came out to her as lesbian (I was a very confused kid) and I knew what the Big Bang Theory was (first the show, then the actual theory). I’ve read the Bible and I interpreted it the way I saw fit; I watched a documentary that stated that, if the Universe kept a record of its history from the very start, then it could see the history of life on Earth only lasting seven days in comparison to the rest. In the Bible, God made the Earth and all life on it in seven days. That had to mean that the dinosaurs lasted for a day, however long God’s days first were before the Mayans and the Romans created calenders.

In middle school, things changed again and my problem with dinosaurs came back full swing. By that time, I gave up praying and I hated going to church (still do, not gonna lie. Mass is boring af.) My life was just too much of a mess (or, at least I thought it was a mess) to believe in a God that didn’t want to listen to me. My spat with sexuality ended and I decided that “I don’t care” when it comes to who I want to be with. There were bigger fish to fry than if I was going to be condemned to Hell because I like what I like and because I don’t appreciate “being neglected” by a benevolent God. Because of very persuasive and alt-Left classmates that I made in the eighth grade, who were really just disturbed fucks that I regret ever befriending, I threw up the middle finger to Jesus and decided right then and there that dinosuars existed before people, no God involved.

I’m seventeen now and a senior in high school. The dino-dilema that I have has faded out over time, because who cares what I or others believe? I think that the dinosaurs were creatures that evolved into birds, reptiles, anphibians and mammals. I think whales evolved from wolves. I think that I was probably a paleontologist in a past life and that’s why I thought dinosaurs were so cool as a kid. I think that Jesus is Middle Eastern and was kicking it with prostitutes of all sexualities. I think that, at the end of the day, I took the words of others too seriously and formed my own viewpoint too late.

The thing people find facisnating about dinosaurs, I think, isn’t the dinosaurs themselves, but the controversy behind their existence. I think that little bit of discorse is what drives normal, avergae people in to them. I can’t speak for the creators of Jurassic Park/World or paleontologists, but I’m pretty positive that I can say that the raging beliefs regarding evolution-versus-religion sparks the significant interest.

Either that, or it’s all because of Jurassic Park.