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souvenirsofsurgery · 3 years ago

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monty’s horror movie list

no one follows me for this but i’m back in my horror movie obsession era so here we go. some of them are good, some of them are bad (but I love them), and some of them are kind of unacceptable, like, morally tbh, I’m sorry

anyway, in no particular order:

mother!: I just watched this one today so it’s on my mind. get ready to be stressed out by deeply uncomfortable social situations for like, the first hour and a half and then genuinely disturbed for the last twenty minutes. i finished this and then sat in my room mouthing “what the fuck, what the fuck”. v good, 10/10

Orphan: What if you adopted a kid but they sucked?

Absentia: I was really impressed, cause this was like a low-budget, crowd funded movie but it’s so so good. This one is about a woman whose husband went missing years ago, a creepy tunnel, and family relationships. V quiet and sad

Possum: Not very much happens in this movie for a long time but the atmosphere is so good, and it’s genuinely creepy. The ending also made me so uncomfortable I almost couldn’t watch it, so there’s that

The Wolf House: Incredible unsettling stop-motion animation, and I’m a sucker for good animation. Makes more sense if you know a little Chilean history, but it’s interesting even without that context

Amityville: It’s About Time: Jumping right from that foreign arthouse film into cheesy schlock, what if a clock made people evil and fucked up?

Hell House LLC: More! Schlock! This is a fake documentary/found footage movie about people trying to make a haunted house in an old hotel... but what if it was haunted for real??

Host (the 2020 shudder original): Unfriended if it was good

Hereditary: Made me sad :( This was one of the first movies to genuinely scare me in a while, and my sister-in-law won’t even let anyone talk to her about it. The story about a family dealing with grief and complicated relationships is also just so interesting to me, this one’s in my top 10

Anything for Jackson: Reverse possession movie: they try to put a spirit IN someone! Hell yeah. So many good, weird ghosts in here, I love some good, weird ghosts

13 Ghosts: (the early 2000s remake) Speaking of good weird ghosts. What if your estranged uncle died and left you a house but there was a ghost jail in the basement? I just rewatched this movie with my little brother and remembered how much I love it. Very schlocky, Matthew Lillard’s acting is off the fucking walls and I love it, why does he act like that??

Kindred: One of the only “is it in her head, or is it real?” movies where I actually really wasn’t sure. It’s about a woman whose husband dies right before she’s about to give birth, so she ends up staying with his family and slowly starts to question their motives

Parents: What if you were just a little kid and you started to suspect your parents were eating people?

Basket Case: I’m not crying over a B movie, I’m not crying over a B movie. In this one, two conjoined twins are surgically separated against their wills, with one of them getting thrown in the trash. As adults, they start hunting down the doctors who did it to them

The Poughkeepsie Tapes: Very depressing fake documentary about a serial killer. Just fucked up and sad

The Taking of Deborah Logan: One of the few found footage movies that I think is actually good. A small documentary crew goes to film a woman and her aging mother who’s suffering from dementia, but they start to think that... huh, maybe this is something a little worse than dementia...

Ju-On: The Grudge (the original Japanese one): this movie just freaks me out, I don’t like how Kayako moves around, I don’t like the sounds she makes, and I don’t like her weird little son

The Ring (the American remake): I saw this movie when I was like 8 bc someone recorded it over the Willy Wonka VHS I’d gotten from the thrift store, and I’ve been fucked up ever since. In it, a woman sees a cursed tape that will make you die in seven days, and has to try and figure out how to save herself before then. GREAT atmosphere, very creepy

Sadako Vs Kayako: What if the girl from the Grudge and the girl from the Ring fought each other? Hell yeah. Plus, love that a ghost hunter comes to help with the situation and he’s got a random mean little girl with him. People are like “why is she here?” and he’s just like “she’s my associate” okay?? Where did she come from??? I’m obsessed with this movie

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: A classic. Rancid, nasty atmosphere, just feels gross, 10/10

Society: Rich people suck so so bad and are very fucked up

House of 1000 Corpses: I love this movie and I’m sorry, its just some disgusting, campy fun. Like, what if your car broke down the night before halloween and ended up in a house with some terrible (but very entertaining) people?

Oculus: The idea of being a little kid, stuck in the house while your parents are slowly losing it, or potentially being possessed by something evil, is really scary to me. This movie does it so well. It moves back and forth from the main characters going through that in their childhoods, to them as adults, back in the house where it happened, and it’s so so good

Hellraiser: You tell me it’s about the blurry line between pleasure and pain and I watch it. The designs for the cenobites are so good. I like this first one a lot, but I also really enjoy the second one bc the torture dimension looks like MC Escher designed it and it’s sick as hell

The Others: This is one of my favorite, like, classic haunted house kind of movie. A mother keeps her kids inside an old mansion, with all the curtains drawn, because they have an illness that means they can’t go in the sunlight. Very, very creepy

The Blair Witch Project: This one just feels so real, I’ve never seen another found footage movie that reached this level. The actors knocked it out of the park, how am I so freaked out just by a couple of people wandering around the woods? It’s the blueprint, honestly

A Nightmare on Elm Street: You guys know this one, he gets you in your dreams! Probably my favorite of the classic slashers, I love some good old practical effects. my brother actually just bought me the WHOLE box set for my birthday so I’m gonna start working though the ones I haven’t seen yet

Jennifer’s Body: What if your best friend, who you have a very homoerotic relationship with, started eating dudes? Iconic. No, but seriously, this movie has a lot more going on than you might think

House of Wax (the 2000s remake): Bad, but so good. It’s really got that uncanny valley thing going on, love that fucked up wax museum

Ichi the Killer: Pretty unacceptable, I can’t in good conscience tell you to watch this movie, but it’s definitely an experience. Very very very violent, like super violent, but in the wildest fucking ways. Basically, what if you were a masochistic Yakuza member with a weird joker mouth and you just wanted a sadistic vigilante to beat the absolute shit out of you? Anyway, I think there’s something wrong with Takashi Miike and probably also me

Black Christmas: This is one of the og og slashers. It’s about girls getting killed in a sorority house, but surprisingly it’s like, not really an exploitation film, and I really like the characters. Good, unsettling killer, too

The Baby: WEIRD. Weird and uncomfortable. I’m not trying to kink shame anyone when I say this, but it’s probably definitely a fetish thing. In it, a social worker takes on the case of a family with an adult son who they’re claiming has the mind of a baby. This one’s probably kind of unacceptable too, to be honest with you

#horror #horror movies #horror movie recs

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split-n-splice · 5 years ago

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"Her reputation going sour was no secret." – a line of interest from Ch1 of The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie. ;3 Just throwin’ that out there. Also! A definite nod to the cupcakery here, because headcanon: those recipes were taken from Drakken’s cookbook. Also headcanon: Drakken likes baking, fite me. This makes sense to me since Ron likes baking, and since Drakken’s shown interest in recipes.

Edited by @gogofordrakgo ♥ (ohlawd thnx for putting up w/ me)

[Chapter Guide]

7. Enabler – 4

As his first day alone in more than two weeks wore on, Dr. Drakken became increasingly aware he was off his game.

He haphazardly wrapped up the order of power staves and shipped them off to free up his schedule. Even left with a surplus of free time on his hands, left in the total privacy of his lab with no one to hover and no distracting upgrades to personalized combat gear to win himself brownie points, he made very little headway on his drones.

He managed to get one robot up and running, so to speak, but commands that seemed so simple like stand and walk just didn’t compute. Yet the buggy self-aware machine managed to rise on its own accord and point to the unassembled duplicates strewn about in a thousand different pieces on his worktable. Worst of all, the bare-bones robot began chanting, “sisters, sisters, sisters,” incessantly until something Drakken said or did caused its head to snap his direction. Preservation activated and an artificial fight or flight drive tripped, unfortunately geared toward fight. The skeletal droid abruptly announced him a threat to the sisters and lurched into action. Lucky for him, there was still a plug to pull.

He could have used some assistance in disabling the mutinous drone, but he managed on his own, as he always had. He shut down the project for the day to tend to a swollen lip received in the collision of steel knuckles and his face.

Back in his quarters, he couldn’t help casting glances to the phone, itching to dial – to dial someone. Anyone. He knew exactly who he wanted to ring up and give an earful to, but he clenched his fists and stamped a foot and grunted to himself as he stalked away from the landline. He had a headache and didn’t need to deal with her attitude now anyway.

Solitude was still disheartening. If he had expected a call from the runaway that evening to update him of her progress or lack thereof, or even to say goodnight or make small talk or anything at all, then he was sorely disappointed.

Drakken knew she wouldn’t have approved – in fact he was certain she would have been furious with him if she’d known – but he’d taken the liberty of sending out henchmen to gather intel on the superhuman. Granted, he’d lost those resourceful fellows, who’d only just returned from the assignment with their haul a day before getting the axe.

As Drakken lugged the overflowing box out of the storage room the next day, he reasoned with himself that he deserved to know who he’d been harboring, especially if he planned to continue to do so. He’d been just a little too wary to touch the box before, lest she pop up behind him to catch him red handed.

He deposited it on his coffee table and locked the door to his quarters for good measure, just in case the woman returned and came barging in at an especially undesirable time.

An abundance of manila folders stuffed with news articles topped the box, and if the men hadn’t already been fired, Drakken might have tipped whoever was responsible for courteously ordering the articles by date, even if he’d nearly scattered them as he unthinkingly tossed them aside while rummaging. VHS and cassette tapes at the bottom of the box made up the other half of the heft. Infiltrating a Global Justice base to steal her official records had been asking too much of the henchman, but an excess of media coverage to expose her would have to be good enough.

With the Bebe bots a bust and a woman who wasn’t even present distracting him still, Drakken settled in to squander his day reading what the sacked henchmen had scrounged up. He could spend an entire week reviewing her hero streak, reading the articles and watching the news reports or listening to interviews on tape, but he elected to skim through the past the four years worth of clippings, pulling out a folder from the bottom of the stack to begin.

A few nights ago, at three in the morning, he had been woken by the girl slamming his “front” door and stalking to his kitchen, the green embers glittering over her skin burning off perspiration and nearly setting her pajamas ablaze. She forwent a glass and drank straight from the faucet before hanging over his sink to hold her head under the stream of water, cursing about a comet. She’d looked just a little too unstable for him to hazard questioning her then, and had returned to his room to let her raid his kitchen for a midnight snack in peace.

So Dr. Drakken wasn’t altogether surprised when the earliest scant news coverage regarded a chip off a comet that had struck down in the suburbs of Go City. It had come so fast and so sudden that there had only been a couple blurry shots of the meteorite’s decent and recovery to accompany the articles. That it hadn’t left a bigger crater or caused fatalities was a mystery, but there was no mention of five quarantined adolescents caught up in the catastrophe either, so a cover-up wasn’t improbable.

Within the year, a trio of teenagers in uniform were garnering admiration of the general populace with their heroic feats. Front-page photos of a distantly familiar girl with her hair still short and boyish beside defeated villains bound up and posed with like trophies, frequently smiling smugly for the camera, should have been enough to make any villain in his right mind reconsider taking her in. Drakken wanted to believe he knew her better than that – that she wasn’t the vigilante she claimed she never wanted to be, and that there was no chance she might be on her way back to his lair with her teammates to hand his ass to him at any moment – but it wasn’t so easy.

Guiltily, he came realize that maybe she hadn’t been pulling his leg about her piloting capability after all when he found a clipping from last fall, featuring a photograph of a far more recognizable woman in uniform along with two young men like her in front of a jet as colorful as their suits, which had been generously donated to them by Global Justice. The Go Tower constructed in the bay a year earlier served as a monument and a base, and Dr. Drakken would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little envious that some superhuman youths had it all handed to them on a silver platter just for swearing an oath to use their gifts for good.

The set of gloves he’d fashioned paled in comparison to the extravagant gifts from Global Justice and Go City. Clearly, giving her things was no way to win her allegiance, because the girl’s hero career had been short-lived. She’d served little more than three years. If she’d only abided by their rules, she could have been living it up, yet she’d formally quit her team months ago.

As of this year, there was a marked change in the tone of the headers. There was less and less praise to be found, until there was next to none at all. If he’d been hoping to find reassurance she was genuinely a bad seed, he got it, though snooping made him feel worse with each article he skimmed over.

Nasty gossip sprung up like weeds. Disbelief and speculation aplenty could be found in clippings from newspapers and magazines as to why she’d abandoned her occupation as a beloved hero. The supply of libel following her resignation was endless. If he had to guess, serving under Global Justice had kept such publications suppressed before, but she’d lost that perk when she put her foot down on doing their bidding.

Blasting scandalous, one popular rumor circulated that she’d withdrawn because she was a typical case of irresponsible teen pregnancy, such negligence marking her unfit to be a role model any longer. That she was still occasionally seen in uniform despite her quitting should have proven she wasn’t expecting – but instead it inspired ridicule and controversy over endangerment and abortion. There was no wining on that front without a good lawyer, which he doubted the girl behind the mask could afford without Global Justice’s charity.

That lost traction when the former hero lashed out at a news reporter on live television. Written accounts played it off as if it had been unprovoked, but Dr. Drakken found a tape on the incident at the bottom of the box that proved otherwise. He was hesitant to hit play on the copy of the broadcast. The masked young woman trying to escape a bombardment of questions was hard to watch as she was confronted by the press with the matter of substance abuse, among other things, all because marijuana was said to be smelled on her clothes. Once detox was mentioned, the cornered superhuman – disheveled and fresh out of an unsanctioned battle – lost her cool and attacked the reporter outright. It was all caught on camera until she was swept away screaming profanities by her gorilla of a brother.

Less than a month later, paparazzi spotted her outside of her hero attire, a familiar ponytail and mismatched boots enough to give her away. It was bad enough she was recognized without her uniform and mask, but she was caught smoking with some punks on a school campus. The snapshot was fuzzy, and there was no way to distinguish what was probably only a cigarette from anything else, but nevertheless it brought an impending graduation into question.

It did not help when some wacked-out addict, an unreliable source if there ever was one, came forward claiming to have taught her the art of cooking meth. The junkie was later found battered and left on the steps of a rehab center. Her signature plasma burns left on the man sparked ever more gossip as to her changing demeanor and bad habits.

On the hero scene, Shego had been golden – but after quitting, the press wasted no time in tarnishing her reputation. Her worsening temper and foul mouth didn’t help the backlash. Her name had been drug through the mud over the past six months, with only a few gems of praise from faithful groupies to be found among the stack of slander.

Dr. Drakken wouldn’t be surprised if it was all true, even the conspiracy theories mixed in about her being from another planet.

"This is why I don't like the hero scene. Everyone knows everything," she’d told him the night he’d found her wandering down a highway in the dark. He hadn’t had much to lose that night when he went with a gut feeling and sprung the proposition on the downtrodden young woman, but whether or not it was the right decision remained to be seen.

Given the stress of the media hounding her every move, both on and off duty, and the family turmoil he’d witnessed from a distance, Dr. Drakken had to bottle his pity for how discontent the runaway must have been to actually jump in a car with an utter stranger and just go.

Before the guilt of prying could get to him too badly, he called it quits and stuffed everything back into the box, double-checking the VCR to be sure he didn’t forget anything she might find later. She’d made it explicitly clear she didn’t want him digging into her past. Even if the box contained publicly available media – for the most part – going through it left a bad taste in his mouth, as if he’d been reading her diary.

Despite the evidence he had that she was indeed a bad apple with a slim chance of returning to her old life, it still felt unwise to put everything on the line for an ex-hero that could easily thwart his plans from the inside. Drakken sat back and shut his eyes, straining to take her words to heart no matter how difficult it was to do so.

“Trust her,” he snorted. “Trust her to what? Bring her brothers to my doorstep?”

But then, he supposed she could have done that already. If she’d wanted to stop him before he could become a major threat, she could have cornered him back in Go City, when she had her team close by to back her up. And even once she was in the lair, she’d had ample time to call in the hounds, and plenty of opportunity to hack into his computers to uncover any master plans, yet she hadn’t busted him yet.

Drakken slumped with his head thrown back over the spine of the couch, stewing a short while on how trustworthy this new partner of his really was, before tuning in to Go City broadcasts to watch the news. She’d only been gone about thirty hours, but he still waited with the bleak expectation to hear some breaking news announcement of her return to the metropolis, anticipating it to be a reason to rejoice. None came, but it still served to worry him.

Leaving the television on, he gave it just a little longer as his stomach drew him toward his kitchen. He’d never had breakfast. He wasn’t even sure if he’d had dinner yesterday. The phone drew his eye though, and he forcibly looked away from it and to the fridge as he took inventory. It was getting a tad late to start on any lab projects, and he could still taste a sore reminder of yesterday’s mishap on his lip.

A check through his cookbook and he found himself gravitating back toward the phone once again. He grudgingly made a call, although it wasn’t the number his fingers itched to dial, and greeted his mother with a weary, “Hello,” and waited for the next half hour for the woman’s exuberance to die down enough to get a word in edgewise.

“That one?” chirped his mother. “Honey, are you feeling alright?”

Drakken blinked and sucked on his split lip. “Relatively speaking,” he slipped. He fished out his notebook and spread it open, eager to get the call over with. “Um. The market will be closing soon,” he lied. “So can I get that recipe?”

“Only if you call me later to tell me how they turn out,” the woman haggled haughtily.

“I’ve made devil’s food before, mother,” he sighed, drumming his pen on the pad. He noticed the pages of memos on the recent gloves and flipped to a fresh page with a small snort.

“Not with my recipe, you haven’t,” chided the woman, and proceeded to let him in on the family secrets in detail. Word for word, he copied down the recipe she knew by heart, running the instructions and ingredients by her once before thanking his mother and heading out the door.

By midnight, a sweet tooth had been satisfied, but sitting alone at the counter with a warm devil’s food muffin drizzled with chocolate ganache just brought his awareness to a weird sort of cavity he wasn’t unfamiliar with but had been successful in ignoring for years – until now, apparently.

He decided he’d have to tell his mother about the muffins tomorrow. It was late, and if he dared pick up the phone now, he might dial the wrong number accidentally on purpose.

The third day alone wasn’t any more productive than the last, but at least he didn’t spend it holed up in his quarters gorging on muffins. True, he’d slept through his alarm, but he gave himself the excuse that it was Sunday, and he’d spent the latter half of his night lying wide awake staring at his ceiling in a vain effort to get some shut eye.

He could tell himself all he wanted that fresh air would do him some good, but it was a lie. Testing out a back-burner product on new targets the henchmen had been tasked to whip up did little to improve his mood. The vaporizing rifle prototype did its job fine, obliterating the targets, though the sight was off and it really needed work to fix an issue of kickback that just about dislocated his shoulder.

Other than taking down a couple memos to be sure he did that, he didn’t make any progress to speak of on his projects. The random destruction of dummies and henchmen fearing they’d be the next targets did little to inspire him and get his head back in the game.

He knew exactly who to blame for it, too. Little ol’ her was a troublesome woman. Though he wasn’t sure if he was worried for her wellbeing – maybe a little, but maybe not – he was certainly stressed enough worrying about the potential consequences letting her go could have. The thorn in his side wasn’t even here and she had him more distracted and frazzled than ever.

Drakken shoved the elaborate rifle into the hands of the henchman on standby and ordered him to return the contraption to the closet, but the henchman didn’t march off immediately, and instead asked something as daringly out of line and ludicrous as, “Rough breakup?” Which sent Drakken reeling as if he’d been cut, and he vehemently ordered the goon to get a move on if he didn’t want to be booted along with the rest.

He ate another damn muffin for lunch, knowing damn well the sweet confection wouldn’t improve his bitter mood.

When the phone rang, he was all too quick to dive for it. Answering was a mistake, and he struggled with the balance of taking bites of savory chocolate and holding a conversation with his nosy mother. She accused him of being upset and went through a list of every likely reason why, and he denied every possibility. If the nagging didn’t alleviate the loneliness somewhat, he would have hung up.

“It’s a girl, isn’t it?” his mother finally guessed, and Drakken had to bite his tongue and hold the phone out lest she hear his weary groan. No matter how wildly far off the mark she was, it was an inevitable question she always fired off at some point – only this time, maybe for the first time in history, she was actually right. Sort of. But he sure wasn’t going to admit that.

“No, mother,” he droned. “It’s just been a rough week,” he assured her for the umpteenth time. It really hadn’t been. Slaving over unique gloves had actually been quite rewarding, the worst part of the week being the part where his car got hijacked and he was left worrying if the new recruit would be friend or foe when she came back, if she came back at all.

After the phone call, he eyed the plate of delectable muffins sitting out on the counter, and decided it best to stow the remaining half dozen of them in the refrigerator out of sight before he could make himself sick.

The next day, Drakken was drilling it into his own head that he didn’t miss having anyone to hover, breathe down his neck, or criticize him as he tinkered with the fine inner workings of a robot brain. If he could only get the droids up and running like half-operational human beings, the Bebes would theoretically fill the human need for company. And even if they didn’t, he still had three organic subordinates – the henchmen – to fall back on. He didn’t need a snarky girl leaning on him and giving him sass trying to get his goat.

His lip was curled at the very thought of someone breaching his personal bubble uninvited when suddenly his subject booted up. It took him a second of staring back at the robot before the Bebe blinked mechanically and he leapt back. What really scared the bejeebers out of him was the fact the android hadn’t even been plugged in to a power source. Before she could fully start up, he reached into the Bebe’s cranium to pull out the CPU to put her to sleep for a nice long while until he was ready to deal with self-aware robots sporting hyperactive preservation drives again. The other two dormant severed heads received the same treatment just to be on the safe side.

His heart was still thudding from the first surprise when he received another unwelcomed jolt.

The room flashed red and a bone-rattling siren buzzed to announce a threat. Either someone had sounded the alarm, something had been tripped, or something malfunctioned. Whatever the case, he was in too much of a foul mood to be pleased by the uncharacteristically swift response of two of his henchmen cutting through the lab with their staves ready.

False alarms were more common than not at this point. There must have been one at least once a month for the past year since establishing his Nevada lair.

Dr. Drakken cast aside his tools and replaced his goggles with his eyeglasses, ready to storm out after the goons to find out what the hullaballoo was all about. It was probably just another unfortunate raccoon stuck in the fence.

Before he could take three steps from his work station, a henchman’s voice crackling over the intercom made him jump once more. “Dr. Drakken, sir, you’re needed outside,” came the urgent summon, and Drakken heard a thunderous snarl booming before the intercom clicked off.

It certainly didn’t sound like snared wildlife.

The insistent siren alone induced a dreadfully unwanted adrenaline rush, urging him to hurry and shut the alarm off at the lab desk. Even without the blaring system that had left his ears ringing, he swore he could still feel a rumble under his feet, and cast a nervous glance upwards at the stalactites holding steady before he exited the lab.

He all but ran down to the garage. The second he opened the door and stomped out from the foyer, he heard the rumble of a jet engine dying down to a whine, and if he didn’t associate the sound with military, he might not be so concerned of the trouble that could be brewing.

The thought that he should have brought a weapon with him was fleeting.

Before he could make it outside to search the sky for the source of the rumble, his jaw dropped.

He wasn’t anticipating a jet to come rolling out of the dark and into the half-lit hangar, the wingspan barely making it through the broad garage door. The flashy new sky beast sported multicolored streaks and bolts, and as it came to a stop in the middle of the scrap-filled warehouse, it dawned on Drakken exactly where it had come from. He’d seen that jet before in a photograph just the other day.

As his men rushed in after the aircraft in the hot wake of the engines, their electrified rods raised in defense, Drakken stormed toward it, his livid glare locked on the single figure onboard.

The top popped and rose with a hiss to reveal the pilot, whose hands were held up in peace for a moment to give the henchmen pause before the intruder pulled off the helmet and mask. The aloof subordinate stood up in the cockpit, shook out her hair, and shot an outrageously smug smirk to Dr. Drakken.

++X++

Shego slid down from the body of the aircraft and didn’t have a chance to appreciate solid ground or even utter a greeting before Dr. Drakken reached her, and she could only stare in a surprised stupor as he raised a hand at her.

Next she was wide-eyed in shock and reaching up for the sting across her cheek. It hadn’t hurt, but it didn’t change the fact he’d slapped her. She was taken aback for a moment. “What was that?” she blurted, turning a sneer back to him. “You hit like a baby!” Honestly, her baby brothers had whopped her worse than that.

And what was that he’d said about the next man to lay a hand on her?

She could get him back later, she decided, because she was pleased to be back regardless of his indiscernible sputtering and tantrum. Though she couldn’t pretend to understand what had his panties in a twist. She’d kept her word, hadn’t she?

What she could do was chortle when the fuming man made a grab for her before he could calm down enough to think twice. It was hard to hold him at fault when he was a villain and had likely conditioned himself to act out, assuming he wasn’t already violent by nature, but she wouldn’t hesitate to teach him not to take out that temper on her if he pushed his luck any further.

Curious if he would however, she let him catch her roughly by the arm. But Drakken faltered once he had her – it was clear he hadn’t expected it to be that easy, or maybe some sense caught up to him – and his moment of surprise made it easy for her to pull her arm away.

Catching him off guard, she slipped behind his back. Her hands snuck up his suit jacket to find the back pockets of his trousers, making him jump. His yelp wasn’t particularly masculine.

“Yoink,” she chirped, making off with his wallet as the startled man swung around.

Shego impishly remained two steps ahead of Dr. Drakken in pursuit of her, purely for the sake of egging him on although he was clearly riled up enough. She stole a gander at his driver’s license as she shuffled backwards. “Andrew?” she snorted. He sputtered something with a note of embarrassment and lunged for it. She jumped back, plucked a twenty from the wallet, and finally surrendered it.

Drakken roughly snatched his wallet back from her outstretched hand, still practically shaking in his tantrum, a funny shade of purple creeping over his face. The indignant doctor barked her name furiously and lurched toward her again, but she leapt back out of reach for good measure.

“Missed me, missed me,” she sang childishly, skipping back and smiling wryly at the hotheaded man.

He wasn’t calming down, none too pleased to be played with. Before she could knock it off on her own accord, Dr. Drakken gnashed his teeth and finally exploded something coherent, “SEIZE HER!”

To which Shego cocked a brow, and before she knew it, she was being restrained and shoved to her knees by a pair of henchmen, her arms twisted and secured behind her back. She knew she could still get the better of them, but she chose not to fight it as she watched suspiciously, once again curious to see just what Dr. Drakken thought he was going to do. She was done playing now though. Did he really think she would accept being slapped and manhandled, just like that? With him glaring as harshly as he was, she had half a mind to spit plasma at him when he stalked up to her.

The mad scientist opened his mouth and raised a finger to lay into her verbally when she sighed heavily and relaxed against the henchmen’s clutches. “Okay,” she began. “So I lost your car, but I got the jet, didn’t I?”

Drakken’s purple-faced humiliation and anger ebbed as he threw a glance back, and his rigid shoulders slumped. She could see his temper cooling he studied the aircraft parked in his garage. She’d stayed true to her word, but it seemed like he was only just now registering that she had in fact brought him a jet.

“Where did you get it?” he quizzed suspiciously as he turned back to eyeball her. Just about anyone else would have received plasma to the face for eyeing her body, but Shego had the funny feeling he was looking less at her figure and more at her pristine new uniform she’d stolen from the Go Tower – although the nature of his stare made it only slightly less unnerving.

“Just something from home,” she said flippantly, fixing a wry smile on her face.

“You stole tech from Global Justice,” he uttered.

“Not really, I mean – it was a gift,” she grumbled, casting her eyes down. That didn’t change the fact that big brother monitored its usage.

Drakken must have realized that, because his eyes shot wide in dismay an instant before the anger from moments ago boiled back to the surface. “They can track it here!” he gasped in alarm as he whirled on the threat in his lair.

Shego, on the other hand, lacked the same fear. The fact she remained unbothered seemed to enough to distress him.

“Cool the engines, Dr. D,” she called nonchalantly before he could fret over how to get a beacon out of his lair. “I squashed a few bugs, snipped a few wires. Give me some credit. I’m not just another stupid thug here.” He looked back to her as she nodded back to the henchmen holding her to make a point, but it hardly calmed him.

She tried to add a smile and a cheery on top, “Oh, and – it can hover. It’s a hover jet. Far out, right?” She was really quite proud of herself, and couldn’t help beaming as she patiently waited to be commended. An order for her release would be nice, at least.

Dr. Drakken stepped back from her and ran a hand down his face. He held it over his mouth and stifled a whine, and Shego noticed he looked almost pained as he glanced back to the stolen mass of technology. “Release her,” he grunted to his men with a dismissive wave, and stalked away to go inspect the aircraft. As Shego crept up carefully behind him, she heard him muttering incredulously to himself, “I can use this. I can really use this.”

“So, uh,” she started, and he flashed a glower back at her over his shoulder. She smiled sheepishly. “Does this make up for taking off and losing your car?” She decided, maybe, he didn’t need to know yet that she’s driven it off a pier and sank it in the ocean in the heat of the moment whilst fleeing the police earlier. She hoped there hadn’t been anything important in it.

Dr. Drakken surveyed her, his brow creased and his expression that of indecision as he considered the loss of his car in return for the multi-million-dollar aircraft. He settled for giving Shego’s shoulder a ginger pat. “I think I’ll keep you,” he said finally.

#The Company You Keep fic #drakgo

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xswestallen · 7 years ago

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Summary: Iris is terrified after seeing The Ring as a child and Barry convinces her to watch it again as an adult.

A/N: I was inspired by my own terror after sneaking behind by parents’ backs to see The Ring as a kid. I haven’t been brave enough to rewatch the whole thing but I’ve seen lots of parodies and realized how stupid the movie seems in 2017. Sorry about the length. I just get carried away because I love writing about westallen so much.

Joe didn’t let Iris watch a lot of TV, she had a one hour a day limit on schooldays that only got upgraded to two hours a day on weekends. Joe also monitored what she watched to make sure it was ‘appropriate’. But Iris was a smart little latchkey kid, it only took a few weeks for her to crack the parental control code on the TV. Whenever she’d get home from school she would flip through the channels and watch whatever she wanted till Joe got home from work.

One day when Iris was flipping through the channels she saw a movie that got her attention. It was called, The Ring and it’s rated R. Iris initially thought it would be about an actual ring that was given as a gift and was rated R for the kissing scenes, but she soon realized how wrong she was. The Ring is a horror movie about a cursed videotape that causes a creepy girl to crawl out of a well and murder you.

Iris was terrified by what she saw and felt tempted to change the channel, but morbid fascination kept her watching. She assumed that if the good guys won in the end and stopped the evil girl it wouldn’t be as scary anymore. Iris was wrong. Seeing that girl come out of the well and then slowly escape from the TV to murder another character at the end was traumatizing.

Iris had nightmares about the movie for weeks. She finally had to break down and admit to her dad that she watched an R rated movie while he was at work. Joe punished her by cutting off cable. After what Iris had seen, she wasn’t even upset.

-------------------------

Iris was able to move on with her life and stopped living in constant fear of getting a ‘seven day’ phone call or being killed by a girl who emerged from the TV. But, she would have the occasional nightmare about it. When she was 17 she woke up sweating after having a particularly vivid dream about The Ring. She went down to the kitchen for some water and calm down.

“Iris?”

The voice made her jump. She realized it was just Barry and took a dee breath.

“Don’t scare me like that.” When she got over the surprise she walked over to the table and sat across from him. “What are you doing up?”

He lifted up the book in his hands to show off the cover. It was a biography of Harrison Wells, Barry’s idol. Iris rolled her eyes knowing this wasn’t the first time he’s read this biography. “Staying up all night to read is nerdy. But staying up all night to re-read a nonfiction book about a scientist? That’s a whole new level of nerd!”

“Why are you up? And why are you jumpy?” he retaliated and went back to looking at his book.

“I… just had a bad dream.” she didn’t want to sound like a coward who’s still scared of monsters in movies.

“The girl from The Ring again?” he said without looking up. Iris was shocked.

“How do you know about that?”

“I’ve seen it too, I know what happens. I remember how you used to get nervous when the phone would ring. And I know that to this day you suddenly get nervous whenever the TV goes static. I put two and two together.”

Iris felt a little embarrassed but Barry reached his hand across the table to hold hers. She immediately felt reassured. “It’s not a big deal, lots of people have lifelong fears after watching scary movies when they’re way too young.”

“Do you?” she asked.

“No, I didn’t watch an R rated movie till I was 15.”

“Such a good boy, Barry.”

--------------------------

Iris and Barry are adults now and were cozying up on their couch to watch Netflix. Barry was browsing while Iris ate popcorn. He couldn’t find anything interesting to watch and was just about to suggest they just go to bed early when he saw it. The Ring. Iris hadn’t had a nightmare in years and the image of that creepy girl breaking through the TV static was buried deep in her subconscious mind.

“Hey, how about this movie?” Barry scrolled over The Ring and he saw Iris’s eyes widen.

“No way.” This was the first time she thought about the film in years. She was finally free of it and didn’t want to start thinking about creepy, well, static girl again.

“Come on,” Barry teased “It’s been 20 years! If you watch it again you’ll realize it’s not nearly as scary as you remember.”

Barry kind of had a point and Iris was a lot braver now than she was as a child. If she could fight metahumans and travel to different parts of the mutliverse, she could handle a movie.

“Ok, put it on.”

When the movie started Iris was tense. She had her arms around Barry and would squeeze him whenever she realized a scary part was coming. But as the film progressed, she saw that Barry was right after all. It wasn’t half as bad as Iris remembered. When the final scene of the girl emerging from the well and then coming through the TV to kill played, Iris felt embarrassed.

“Wow, I can’t believe this used to scare me.” she said looking to Barry who let out a little laugh. The credits rolled and Iris stood up. “Well I feel a lot better knowing I’ll never have another nightmare about that stupid movie.”

“I’m glad.” Barry got up too and they both headed to bed.

“It doesn’t even make sense anymore. I mean, who has a house phone? Who would answer a call from a random number? Who has VHS player to watch the cursed tape? Why would making a copy of the tape save you? What if you posted it on YouTube and millions of people watched it? Would it save you but kill millions?” Iris laughed at how dated the film is.

After getting into bed, Barry kissed Iris on the top of the head and they went to sleep. Iris was sleeping fine but woke up in the middle of the night after feeling Barry poking her back.

“Iris?” he asked “Are you asleep?”

“I was.” she rolled over to face him, a little annoyed. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. I’m fine. I just wanted to make sure you were ok. You know, no more nightmares since you faced your childhood fear.”

“I’m fine. Go back to sleep.” She closed her eyes and felt Barry spooning her.

“Can we just cuddle?”

Iris raised an eyebrow and grinned. Barry knew what she was thinking and opened his mouth to deny it but was too late. Iris was already laughing.

“You’re scared aren’t you?”

“No……….maybe”

“I told you it was scary but for years you said I was exaggerating!”

“I was wrong, ok? Now hold me.” he was half joking, half serious.

“Don’t worry Flash, you saw how slow she crawled out of that TV. You’d make it to Keystone before she even got a finger out.” Iris played with his hair and tried not to laugh at the irony of the situation. "You have me here to protect you.” Barry smiled at that. “I’m not letting her or any other woman get to you.”

#westallen #westallen fic #westallen fanfiction #barry x iris #barry allen x iris west #iris west

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nightmareonfilmstreet · 7 years ago

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Mother Knows Best: The 13 Worst Mothers of Horror

The horror genre has explored a variety of themes, and often times the complexities, mothers face from conception through death. It’s an analytically heavy topic that can provoke the most fundamental of thoughts, draw out the most genius symbolism, and shape our beloved characters down to even the most minute detail.

Mothers’ Day is the one day out of the year we use as a time to celebrate the most wonderful of idols we have been given. If not for the nurturing care, strong, fertile bodies, and ongoing evolution of women all over the world humankind would cease to exist. The colorful flowers, corny cards, and midday brunches are our attempts at offering a ‘Thank You’ to the ones who raised us, biologically or not, as we’ll do this Sunday, the 13th.

With that, what the horror genre has done so obviously well is show audiences that motherhood might not be as rewarding as it’s cracked up to be. Sometimes motherhood is scary. Sometimes motherhood is not about laser-cut flower petals, warm hugs, and relaxing pedicures. Sometimes motherhood is a bitch. Horror shows us that the most horrifying realization we can come to terms with is that the ones who bring us into this world can easily take us out of it.

Below are the 13 Worst Mothers of Horror. Directly or not, these women prove that parenthood can be a real mother-you-know-what and they’re not here to deal with it.

Margaret White in Carrie (1976)

Our titular character, Carrie White, is a shy, quiet, high school oddball who is constantly the victim of her classmates’ taunts and pranks in the novel Carrie written by Stephen King and the film adaptation directed by Brian De Palma. Instead of finding solace when she returns home from school each day she is faced with the Christian-saturated hellfire at the hands of her crazed mother, Margaret White. A mother, especially a godly mother, should use moral and powerful guidance to build Carrie up, but instead she wields that iron fist – clutching a kitchen knife – and spirituality as a device to literally drive her only daughter straight into the ground. Whether she is locking Carrie in a prayer closet for hours or purposely keeping the truths about a normal menstrual cycle from her, Margaret White is the epitome of a hypocritical, overly religious, and everything but Christian mother. Always watch out for the extreme ‘bible thumpers’. I know what I’m talking about, I live in the south.

Mommy in The People Under the Stairs (1991)

One of my earliest memories of horror film imagery is straight out of Wes Craven’s campy The People Under the Stairs and it’s one of those snapshots that will never leave my mind. Alice is a young girl kept as a prisoner in her home by her hedonistic parents promptly named Daddy and Mommy. After Mommy, played by fan favorite character actress Wendy Robie, murders an intruder, Alice, clean and nicely dressed, slips and falls in an enormous puddle of his blood at the bottom of the stairs. It’s just one of those scenes that fueled my love for the genre. The contrast of the gore and the beautiful home surroundings is absolutely perfect. Mommy is equally unforgettable as both a character and a portrayal of some real parental evil that exists in the world. Alice, along with many other ‘children’, are isolated from the outside world, physically (and suggestively sexually) abused, and either neglected to the point of death or smothered, well, to the point of death. If Mommy isn’t scary enough for you, check out the documentary The Turpin 13: Family Secrets Exposed for a real, all too recent example of how a mother, and father, like this can torture their children for well over a decade without anyone knowing. The scariest part: this film was released in 1991, the Turpin children were found just this year.

Rachel Keller in The Ring (2002)

You know those silly ‘Keep Out of Reach of Children’ disclaimers you see on common, but obviously dangerous, household items? Someone, somewhere was stupid enough to leave a bottle of bleach out on the floor in easy access for their toddler to take that one fatal sip. Rachel Keller of Gore Verbiniski’s The Ring is that mom. After the incredibly strange death of her niece, Rachel comes into possession of a videotape haunted by the spirit of a little girl, Samara, that murders the viewer seven days after watching it. Rachel, of course, watches it and receives the foreboding call from Samara giving her the countdown. Does she destroy the tape or even make an attempt at it? No. Does she hide the tape from her young, curious son, Aiden? No. Does she at least rid the house of all VHS players and leave him to endure cable over dying a horrible death? No. What she does is casually leave the tape out allowing the precocious boy to view it alone dooming him to the same terrifying fate of all of Samara’s victims. Rachel attempts to put all the pieces together to rid her and her son of this curse, but do you think she would ask Aiden, who obviously has a sixth sense when it comes to Samara, a single question as to the girl’s vengeful motive? You guessed it. Nope. Way to go, Rachel.

Mother in Mother’s Day (1980)

Acts of murder, rape, and physical abuse should not be impressive to anyone, least of all your mother unless you are Ike or Addley of the cult classic, occasion-appropriate titled Mother’s Day. Mother played by Beatrice Pons, pretty much changes the entire trajectory of motherhood in this extremely campy 1980 film. She encourages her two sons to commit heinous acts against others with the same gusto and enthusiasm as a mom cheering her son on during a little league baseball game. Ike and Addley are basically human trash she has raised into adulthood and the worst part is that she is proud of her unique parenting skills and her sons. The more brutal their acts are, the higher the praise she gives them. Mother certainly has her own twisted spin on the whole positive reinforcement technique. There is absolutely nothing redeeming about this mother nor her revolting offspring. Although, I can’t help but wonder what B.F. Skinner’s thoughts would be on this type of parenting. Operant Conditioning at its best, right?

Nola Carveth in The Brood (1979)

One of the bitter pills we must digest as we age is that in ways obvious and subtle, we slowly become our parents. There is always a certain vicious circle that evolves when it comes to our parents, ourselves as parents, our children, them as parents, and so on that is natural and basically unstoppable. In David Cronenberg‘s body horror The Brood, Nola Carveth, played by Samantha Egger, learns just how truly vicious that circle can be. Nola is the product of an abusive mother herself and is being accused of abusing her own daughter, Candice, by her ex-husband causing her to seek therapy. The psychoplasmic methods (and possibly the unexplained discolored bumps she has growing on her arms) produce a handful of strange, dwarfish, creatures that extract revenge out on others based on Nola’s anger and psychic connection the litter has with her. Of all the mothers on the list, Nola isn’t exactly the worst as her story is really a metaphor for hereditary productivity, but we can’t let that be an excuse here. The creatures do attack Candice in the third act proving Nola has some resentment and animosity toward her daughter, proving her inner mentality as a mother is not exactly kosher. The inevitable circle spins on as we see Candice escape the attack fairly unscathed… except for some unusual discolored bumps on her arms.

Erica Sayers in Black Swan (2010)

If Dance Moms has taught us anything it’s that stage parents are the absolute worst. Living vicariously through your children is both selfish and utterly creepy. However, the subject of a stage parent is intriguing by an analytical standpoint and simultaneously horrifying to observe. Take Erica Sayers played by Barbara Hershey in Darren Aronofsky’s ballet horror Black Swan as an example. She is the mother to dedicated ballerina Nina, played fantastically by Natalie Portman, and she is about as manipulative and controlling as they come – if you can catch it. Mothers like Erica are masters at using words and seemingly kind gestures to guilt their children into loving them when they really should be running away from them. So much is suggested and hinted at in dialogue and setting to suggest Erica’s control over Nina and her domineering push forcing her to be obsessed with perfection, that if not payed attention to one might think Erica is caring and protective of Nina. The reality couldn’t be further from the truth. I mean, the way she rewards Nina with a cake knowing very well the girl won’t eat it and that she would shame her for it later if she did, then makes her feel guilty for not eating it, is enough to give anyone a bout of bulimia. Mothers like Erica appear perfect and act perfect, but that’s all it is: an act.

Joan Crawford in Mommie Dearest (1981)

Speaking of horrible mothers in the entertainment industry…

One of my favorite notions to use is that real life is scarier than any film out there. Nothing could support that more than Joan Crawford and the exploitation of the abuse she inflicted on her two adoptive children throughout their whole lives. While Mommie Dearest is not exactly a horror film, the emotional and physical torment her children suffered under her is sadly the standard by which we measure bad mothers against. Faye Dunaway played the role so well she is almost synonymous with the notorious actress, minus the child abuse, and her image still comes to most of our minds when we think about terrible mothers. The woman was basically the queen of outrageous punishment for minor indiscretions that children tend to make. The accounts from those around her, including the hired help, co-workers, lovers, and her children, Christina and Christopher, are pure parental nightmare fuel. It’s hard to believe this is not a made-up genre story, but it did happen unfortunately, exaggerated or not. I still cringe at the thought of her cutting off Christina’s hair as a distrubing penance for a simple mistake. That wasn’t even the worst of it. Hair grows back. The mental psyche takes a bit longer to heal. No wire hangers, kids.

Marge Thompson in A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)

The mother of one of horror’s favorite final girls, Nancy Thompson, can be considered both a good mom and a bad mom depending on which one of her actions you’re observing. Marge, played by Ronee Blakely in Wes Craven’s A Nightmare on Elm Street, is part of the original cul-de-sac lynch mob of Elm Street that burn Fred Krueger alive after learning he is behind the series of child murders in town. While we understand the parents’ revenge on Krueger and would gladly light the wick on the molotov cocktail thrown into his warehouse, the nightmarish ongoing result of Krueger returning to murder the kids of Elm Street in their dreams for a number of films is more than likely not what the parents expected the outcome to be. Marge goes on to be a full blown alcoholic and mostly absent minded mother to Nancy. She continuously takes the easy way out by either ignoring the fact that this monster is hunting her daughter and her friends or she drinks reality away being of no help nor support. Our final girl has to maintain her gumption and find her own courage and strength from within to escape the razor-bladed grasp of Krueger all on her own while Marge remains in a pathetic liquor infused stupor. It’s almost a relief when she is pulled through that tiny front door window at the end of the film. Thanks for nothing, Marge! Saddle up for the long haul or leave it to the judicial system.

Beverly Sutphin in Serial Mom (1994)

Being a perfect homemaker in the suburbs can be absolute murder and that is exactly what Beverly Sutphin, played by Kathleen Turner, is driven to when those around her get in her way in the dark comedy Serial Mom. Though her bloodlust is born from good intentions (an instructor makes a rude comment about her son), Beverly goes on a spree murdering anyone one she deems as a threat or just a nuisance to her or her family. For the most part, I get it. I actually debated on including her in this list at all. Ultimately, I decided that while annoying, none of Beverly’s victims really deserved to die and her own family remarks, in the humorous way the film is crafted in, to remind themselves not to piss her off for fear of her going on a murderous rampage again. What good is a mother if everyone around her is afraid she’ll put an axe in their head? Beverly best take a chill pill, wash it down with a tumbler full of white wine, and come to terms with the fact that most of us have to deal with on a daily basis: you can’t go around murdering everyone that annoys you whenever you feel like it. That’s what Purge night is for.

Norma Bates in Psycho (1960)

Most times no matter how irritating or intrusive our mothers can be, deep down inside we love having them around us. Always. However, should you want your mother to stay with you as long as Norman Bates does you may want to seek some help. The famous slasher’s mother, Norma Bates, is a special case on this list as she never makes an actual living appearance in Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho. Her voice and actions are all manifested from her son Norman himself who, it is suggested and pretty obvious, is severely dependent on her in all aspects of life whether she is alive or deceased. Norma’s emotional antagonism and violence towards him and the women he encounters paints us a picture of how bad the woman must have been when she was alive, though that is always up for debate. Was she as awful as the voice coming from Norman is or is it something he’s made up himself? Regardless, the psychological haunting linger of Norma is enough to drive Norman into the most serious identity crisis resulting in murder and Norma completely taking over him, mind and body. Life lesson: Stay away from the mama’s boys. Believe me when I tell you: this specific relationship portrayal isn’t too far off from what those guys are truly like.

MU-TH-UR 6000 in Alien (1979)

Many would think the Alien Queen would be on this list, but I can hardly count her as a bad mom. If anything, the Queen is a great mom who uses all of her genetic instincts to grow and protect her young when a handful of human incubators make themselves available to her throughout the series. Natural selection is also a bitch.

The real bad mom here is the space ship Nostromo’s mainframe system MU-TH-UR 6000, referred to as ‘Mother‘. The crew relies on MU-TH-UR for information, protection, and most importantly, survival. It is one of many analytical elements in the Alien series that relates back to the theme of motherhood. However, while the crew sleeps and operates under the trusting care of MU-TH-UR, the system is monitoring them to relay details on their activity back to Weyland-Utani and is in cahoots with the highly untrustworthy AI, Ash, on carrying out Special Order 937: collect an alien xenomorph specimen and deliver it back to earth with the crew members being completely dispensable. It’s an unfortunate lesson the crew members learn, but don’t trust technology no matter how long it lets you sleep in its womb.

Mother in Mother! (2017)

If there is ever a film so overtly saturated in motherly symbolism, it’s Darren Aronofsky’s Mother! Jennifer Lawrence’s mother character is pure, wholesome, and nurturing. She is all of the things a mother, including that of ‘mother nature’ and ‘woman’ should be. However, when random intrusive guests begin showing up and inviting themselves in to wreak havoc on the beautiful home mother is creating for her narcissistic poet husband Him, and their unborn baby, mother remains so passive to the point that a full on world of war explodes tearing down the establishment from the inside out. She only puts her foot down and embraces her protective instincts when it is far too late for everyone. The fate of her baby is gruesomely tragic and results in mother literally destroying herself and her surroundings only to be born again anew in the name of love for Him. Like any strong mother archetype would destroy themselves for the weak man that betrayed her and caused the death of her firstborn? I think not. This is a pretty sad portrayal of actions not taken by a mother, a wife, and a woman. mother really should have destroyed Him. However, given the subtext of who and what these characters personify, we should be grateful that mother doesn’t really hold a grudge nor seek apocalyptic vengeance… yet.

Rosemary in Rosemary’s Baby (1968)

Similarly to mother, Rosemary Woodhouse of Roman Polanksi’s Rosemary’s Baby, adaptation of the novel written by Ira Levin, is another character you just want to grab by the shoulders and violently shake into sense. As beautiful, sweet, and delicate as Mia Farrow is in the iconic role of Rosemary, she is painfully dependent, weak, and totally naive. She is blindly trusting of her pushy neighbors and self absorbed actor husband, Guy (eye roll) all of which have made some deal with the devil and are part of the geriatric cult that worships him. Pregnant with her first child, unknowingly the antichrist, Rosemary falls ill many times, complains about threatening symptoms in her breathy voice, and takes advice from everyone but a trustworthy doctor who isn’t connected to the cult’s inner circle. Of course she isn’t aware of her husband’s involvement and the promises made to the underworld at her expense until it’s a trimester too late, but all of the suspicions and signs are there as plain as day for her to see. Thank goodness mothers and wives, women in general, have come a long way since the 60’s.

So, kiss your mothers this Sunday and appreciate them for the wonderful women that they are, unless they are anything like the characters in this list because, well, they are the worst. If your mothers are anything like this lot, you might want to start running…

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