Results 1 to 3 of 3

Thread: The Curse of Frankenstein

  1. #1
    Registered User Steven Hunley's Avatar
    Join Date
    Sep 2009
    San Diego Calif.
    Blog Entries

    The Curse of Frankenstein

    The Curse of Frankenstein
    Steven Hunley

    In fifty-seven when I was ten my Ďotherí family took us to the drive-in movie and we saw the first color Frankenstein movie. I say Ďotherí because I had two families at the time. Long before I was old enough to remember, I had been one of Solomonís babies, divided up. I lived with one set of parents and on alternate weekends, visited the Ďotherí.

    It was a bad setup, and if Iíd had my way, the judge in all his wisdom, should have been shot or forced to read 1 Kings 3:16-28 , write it on the board, and made to wear pink, a much less serious color than his usual somber robes, to mark his twisted sense of humor.

    The effect was that I felt comfortable with one set of parents and not with the Ďotherí. As far as I was concerned, one knew me and the other one didnít. While with the Ďotherí I either felt I was on display, or worse, separated or cut off. After Iíd gone to college and learned five years of English lit and sophistication I referred to it as the Sylvia Path or Ďbell-jarí effect.

    From two to eighteen I was Ďthe boy with two livesí and didnít much care for one of them. After eighteen, I abandoned the Ďotherí one, and by twenty-two the set I loved and lived with had jumped ship and abandoned me. My mother took the lifeboat, or I should say deathboat, of Cancer, and in her way steered clear of me, and my dad jumped on the leaky boat of cerebral hemorrhage for his bloody way out, leaving me, a wreck of unconsciousness, slowly sinking inch by inch into the depths of forgetfulness as icy and numbing as the North Atlantic.

    I mean to say that fortunately or unfortunately, by that time Iíd discovered Valium, and as a result, donít remember one second of either of their funerals. Iíve never done public death well. Iíve never taken notes and memorized what polite thing to say, or how to feel. Youíre never much good at consoling, when youíre expert at loss. Youíre just not made of the right material.

    I should have scrounged a dog-eared a set of Cliffís notes on death and dying, or boned up on Elizabeth Kubler Ross, but itís too late, and, as Robert Graves once said, 'goodbye to all that' for now.

    ©Steven Hunley 2013
    Last edited by Steven Hunley; 03-15-2013 at 07:56 PM.

  2. #2
    confidentially pleased cacian's Avatar
    Join Date
    Nov 2011
    Interesting read and also very funny because I was just thinking the other day about the word CURSE and then this comes up.
    The title the curse of Frankenstein is a telling one because my forward reaction was what curse? Frankenstein is the curse himself the fact that he is about is the curse and so anything he does after that is defeatest.

    Valium however is another curse. It got discovered by mistake and someone got hold of it and used it against its own will.
    It is the devil incarnate valium not to be messed about with. I will have it fed to Frankiestein and have it done with it that way the curse would have its own curse.
    Last edited by cacian; 03-15-2013 at 03:54 PM.
    it may never try
    but when it does it sigh
    it is just that
    it fly

  3. #3
    Registered User Steven Hunley's Avatar
    Join Date
    Sep 2009
    San Diego Calif.
    Blog Entries

    story continued

    We piled into the car, my step-sister Edna, and my dad John and his new Canadian wife. The drive in was a free-for all eating situation too. You could bring anything you wanted. Not just sneak in a candy bar or sandwich like today at the theater, but rather sodas and fried chicken, liquorice twists both red and black, and popcorn fresh and hot from the concession stand drowned in oceans of butter. Kids my age would wear their pajamas and bring their favorite pillow. The South Bay Drive-in was showing a double feature, The Curse of Frankenstein, and a black and white B picture, X the Unknown. It would stay unknown too, due to my stomach and scare-factor, but more of that later.

    The real X-the Unknown wasnít on the screen, it was out in the audience. It was me in their family, the odd chipped piece, the one that didnít match, and the one you hid in the back. The tag along, week-ender.

    I know it seems harsh, but thatís how I felt. Kinda second-rate, kinda outsider-like, kinda not quite right.

    But there I was in my PJs, trying to fit in, doing my best, pillow in hand, jolly good show, stiff upper lip, doing my best to glean what was expected.
    I had no pre-conceptions, and hadnít seen the original Frankenstein. So hereís this Hammer film, Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee, and Cushingís a doctor, and itís supposed to be a long time ago, and certainly not in San Diego, I can tell by the way theyíre dressed. Itís not as long ago as Robin Hood, but they talk much the same, so I figure theyíre in England. But now itís getting scary! Oh my goodness, real scary, and I stop biting my chicken leg just long enough to watch Frankenstein unfold a cloth on the laboratory table, and whatís those two squishy things there, see emí?

    Itís a pair of eyeballs the crazy doctor Victor stole somewhere!

    His helper doctor dude is shocked! I am too, and a mouthful of fried chicken bites the rubber floor mat in the back seat, as my jaw falls uncontrollably open in awe.
    Oh, now Iím primed and as on edge and any razor by Somerset Maugham.

    Now the crazy doctor is robbing a brain and after he plunks it into a jar he drops the jar and glass splinters go into the squishy-soft tissue. It reminds me of liver and onions, which reminds me of my mother at home, and how far away that is, and how I canít wait for Sunday afternoon when I get to go home, even though itís Saturday night, and that snaps my elastic brain of consciousness back to the present, and my eyes back to the screen. Now thereís a body all bandaged up, with all sorts of tubes attached, floating in a gigantic aquarium. Itís like a mummy floating in a glass sarcophagus. I didnít care much for mummies; they didnít talk enough and made me nervous. When we watched Boris Karloff in the Mummy two weekends ago on Shock Theater, I had nightmares for weeks.

    Iíll say right now that was the usual pattern. I led a sheltered life, but only on Arizona St. where I grew up under my momís care. In National City I was subjected to good times and bad, and whatever the outcome, would take it home with me to my mother. The repercussions went with me wherever I wandered, and trailed far behind, except the ones that stuck with me, which Iím still ungluing today. I shook free of as many bad repercussions as I could, but a man has only so much energy, and uses most of it up on everyday battles. Life is a constant struggle to attain and break free. Our egos suppose we choose what we like, but life is more simple and sometimes gives you no choices, no good ones anyway.

    to be continuedÖ.

Similar Threads

  1. Curse
    By E.A Rumfield in forum Personal Poetry
    Replies: 2
    Last Post: 12-06-2012, 07:30 AM
  2. The Curse
    By Alexander III in forum Personal Poetry
    Replies: 6
    Last Post: 12-17-2009, 01:22 AM
  3. The Curse Of Hunger
    By Mar_Moh in forum Personal Poetry
    Replies: 3
    Last Post: 05-15-2008, 09:29 PM
  4. The Night's Curse
    By mazHur in forum Personal Poetry
    Replies: 7
    Last Post: 01-26-2008, 12:06 PM
  5. Curse The Car
    By kiz_paws in forum Personal Poetry
    Replies: 14
    Last Post: 12-23-2007, 11:15 AM

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts