MMM day 03: The Episode Of Aaaarg My Fucking Eyes...

Is brought to you by all the times your bed was really lumpy and you couldn't sleep for the LIFE of you...

And of course, the warning: May contain spoilers, blah blah blah. May also make you want to get drunk on wine and eat strange things like fried chicken, apples and people! 

MJ: Welp, there's an hour and a half of my life I'm never getting back.

 KT: *laughs* same here. Holy crap, trying to keep my eyes open was a chore. I felt like I was torturing myself.

MJ: You were, Kweeny, you were. Even by 1977 standards, the pacing was sheer agony. Nothing could be done without at least ten seconds worth of establishing shot, and nobody moved with any more urgency than "Hmm, I should probably hit the bathroom before lunch" speed.

 KT: Good thing I have sharp things lying around to stab myself with. That's what kept me going. 

 MJ: Oh, I took my life into my own hands! I watched the whole movie... while stretched out in bed! *shiver* 

 KT: OH NOES! Are your limbs still in tact? Because apparently if the demon bed eats your fingers down to the bone, it only hurts a little.

Well, at least I don't have fat fingers anymore...

 MJ: Certainly not enough to scream, according to Brother Stumpy (apparently played by Robert Plant's halfwit younger brother). But yeah, a quick check confirms that both arms and all three legs are intact.

 
 KT: Good. So before we get too ahead of ourselves, tell the readers what movie we just tortured ourselves with...

MJ: Right. Today's platter of poop, today's serving of stool, comes in the form of 1977's Death Bed: the Bed that Eats. It's a premise I couldn't come up with if the local police let me do all the drugs in their evidence locker at once, and writer/director/producer/horrible human being George Barry still managed to make it both painful and boring.

 KT: Extremely painful and boring. I think he thought he was trying to make the film look stylish, but honestly even on shrooms you'd fall asleep.

MJ: On shrooms, the walls provide a much better story, and the salt & pepper shaker turn in much better acting performances. Of course, after Taco Bell and Old Milwaukee, your bowels will also turn in a better script.

 KT: *nods* So help me understand this ass-blaster of a film okay? Is the story about a bed that was awoken by demon tears because the demon screwed some bimbo to death? Or is the demon trapped in the bed? And why the hell was it so hungry? And why do I want to drink myself stupid while eating apples and fried chicken? What about the dude in the walls? WTF was his deal? Why was he out of ALL the people eaten, trapped with the bed?

I think I fell asleep too much... 

 MJ: Ah, him! The script lists him as The Artist, but I called him Wallgoth "Hamlet" von Clownstick, Distant Ancestor of Donald Trump. He was apparently the most interesting person the bed ever ate, which just goes to show you.

The Tortured Artiste

 KT: Interesting huh? That's why I have stab marks up and down my arms to keep me awake. He's "The Artist"... how pretentious is that? You know who he reminded me of? Too many snobby older goths in clubs. The "Elder Goths." They think they are artists too. Because wearing thick eye liner and multiple rings on your fingers makes you a super ARTISTE.

 MJ: Exactly. Well, then again, judging by the rather disinterested faces of the other victims, and the drunken-sorority-girl sex-sounds people were making- instead of screaming- while being eaten, one can only assume that these were some supremely boring people. Nobody seemed able to muster more of a reaction than is generally reserved for finding a hornet in one's garage. 

KT: Agreed. I mean one dude's hands were eaten down to the bone. TO THE FRICKEN BONE! He didn't scream a bit! Not even a pained face. He looked like he was sad he couldn't get it up anymore with his hands, but that was the only reaction we got!

And MJ, I know people who would scream at finding a hornet. 

 MJ: True enough. It would freak me out pretty bad, too, but these folks were reacting like their bus was late.

And then there was Sharon, our... survivor-girl...? She WATCHED one friend get eaten, deduced that the other one was as well, and decides to valiantly sit in the corner and have a nap. 

 KT: Seriously. I know Pretentious-Artiste-Dude tried to play if off that she was in shock, but I have seen people in shock. She didn't even have a cold sweat on her brow.

 MJ: Yeah. That was not a "My friends are DEAD!" face, that was a "Oops, we're out of peanut butter" face.

Also, did you know that a human body being eaten makes the exact same sounds as someone eating an apple? And that the sound of blood bubbling out of the ground sounds EXACTLY like George Barry's bong?

KT: *laughs* I have learned many things today my friend! Many horrible, stupid things! Like demons love fucking their girlfriends on special beds. And they cry like wusses when rejected. They cry so hard their eye balls break like glass. 

 MJ:And then they go off to spend a couple centuries pouting in a tree. And only sleep once every ten years, because plot convenience. I think this thing's a demon in the same sense that Edward Cullen's a 'vampire'- which is to say, watered-down wussy-ass version designed to push a ridiculous weak plot. 

 KT: Heh, exactly. I'm still confused as to what the bed's powers really where. I knew it could eat shit with it's weird bile-acid stuff, but it could destroy the house too? What did it eat the foundations?
 MJ: Apparently when it's got its shit together, it's telekinetic, which does make it an iota less embarrassing to be eaten by a BED. Seriously, if the sum total of a successful defense plan can be written as "roll over", you need to rethink your monster. Also, stop writing movies. 

KT: Don't worry, I think he did stop making movies after this one.

 MJ: Yep. IMDB confirms that Death Bed was Barry's first-and-last foray into filmmaking- for which the world breathes a collective sigh of relief- but this eye-herpes still gives him a place in Filmmaker Hell wiping Ed Wood's ass and keeping Uwe Boll's throne warm until he arrives.

 KT: Ugh... I really could not have thought up a plot so stupid even if I was sniffing glue. I mean a bed that eats people could be an awesome B movie! It could be funny as hell, but this was art house tripe!

That dastardly bed poured a can of red paint on my legs! I will never walk again!

 MJ: Now that you mention it, yeah- it kinda felt like it was trying to be arty, but fell well short of surreal and landed in the territory inhabited by indigestion-dreams. Tried to be Sauvignon Blanc, ended up Thunderbird.
 KT: *nods* Exactly my point. Even artsy movies have better acting, direction, story boarding, set design...even if they are weird as shit. 

Do you think we've beaten this Death Bed to death? Because I need some fried chicken, apples and booze.

Apples! My favorite! NOM NOM NOM...

 MJ: Yeah- I liked Antichrist, that Willem Dafoe movie with the dead fox, for example, and that was arty as fuck.

Ahh, fried chicken, apples and booze- the preferred appetizer of carnivorous furniture the world over. Nah, I think we've milked this pimple for all it's worth. I'll simply leave our readers with a warning:
If you leave a piece of food on your bed, look away, and it's gone when you turn back- and you don't have any pets?

Leave the house- it's about to get tedious in there. 

KT: *smirks* Wise words to live by. Thank you readers for joining Mad Jester and I, and I hope you are enjoying the May Monster Madness! See you tomorrow gang for more!