This is the door from the laundry room to the parking lot. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve run up these stairs because I was convinced a zombie face was going to peek out from between the stairs and nibble on my ankle. Which is why I try to do my laundry during the day and not at night.
Lesson learned.
SOMEBODY’S IN MY FRUIT CELLAAAAARRRR!
great…got beat to the punch on the “evil dead 2” reference…phil wants to make a zombie film where they shamble around in the snow because he’s never seen it…i think his title is “zombie armageddon”, and i’m being serious…
Crap. I’m worthy of neither of you, since I didn’t get the freaking reference.
When I die, I’m gonna go to horror movie hell.
Jimbo, I’m eagerly awaiting Wacky Weavervision’s Zombie Armageddon. He teases us with these ideas!
I asked Phil about how Zombie Armageddon was coming along, and he wanted me to be sure to pass along that its working title is now Season of the Dead, because it will hinge on the change of season from fall to winter and beyond.
And yes, there will be much carnage on that precious white snow.
I hope Phil’s moving-making attempts are met with better results than mine are.
See Curse of the Dead Things for details. Oh, wait, you can’t because it never got filmed. It’s all coming back to me now.
But if I’m not mistaken you have a copy of the script!
I’m still interested in CotDT. And we have a camera now, which would probably help alot. The cast would be different. I think we can agree that Luke is a poor speaking actor ’cause you can’t hear a damn thing he’s saying, but he’s always up for having his ass kicked on film. Brandon can easily fill the stupid jock role (or any role, including mine or yours). I think one of our biggest problems was securing people as extras and as the Dry Creek redneck zombies. I don’t think this would be an issue now. Brandon does after all attend an art school.
And the blue kettle is waiting patiently.
If you’re looking for a free and completely creepy place to film, you can use my family’s farm, with all its black ponds, broke-ass barns, and buses filled with bright yellow barrells of toxic waste. True story.
I refuse to look up how to spell barrel, by the wyay.