We grinded them beyond recognition (or at least the ability to be traced) and roasted them at unspeakable temperatures before devouring them with a wretched ferocity.
Best meatloaf ever.
When I was a senior in college (1984), The Evil Dead was released as an unrated film. Rumor had it that Sam Raimi spent about $6.75 on the production. That being said, it was unrelentingly scary and gory and more than once, I came dangerously close to seeing my dinner again, albeit in a partially digested state.
But then it was over and I went home to bed. I slept with the light on because, well, I really couldn’t sleep and most ghoulies and demons don’t bother with you with the light on.
But then the bed began to shake. Noticeably. I swore to myself that if it began to rise towards the ceiling, I would have lost all bowel control. A full 2 minutes passed with me on the verge of tears. Manly tears, but tears nonetheless.
At that point the bed stopped shaking. I never did rise to the ceiling, which was fine with me as I had forgotten to turn off the fan up there and, well, you know…blood splatter.
A few hours later, I learned that my town had experienced a 5.6 richter-level earthquake earlier that morning, which might have accounted for the shakes.
However, I am still convinced that on that night, I was possessed by a demon of laziness that has not left my body since.
(click to embiggen the image above, but I warn you, it will lead to Satan playing all your vinyl records backwards)