31 Uncanny Bits of Terror for October - Day Twenty Seven: Gore and Aged Swingers

Of H.G. Lewis and Parents Who Swing

I grew up in a small town.  One had to do a bit of work to find the glorious goods when it came to movies and music and books.  I used the the two Ms, Magazines and Mailorder, to help me reach beyond the monotonous drone of cows mooing in distant fields and the hees and haws of the townsfolk. 

One of the magazines that helped make my life more interesting was Fangoria.  Mainly the David Everett years - the early to late 1980s.  I certainly loved the coverage of the current horror films of the day.  I definitely would have NOT been present in the theatre for such life-changing wonders like Escape From New York , Lifeforce, The Funhouse and many other amazing films if my head had not been stuck in that mag every month.  The stills of Adrienne Barbeau (from Escape From New York) published in the mag were one of the highlights of my adolescence. 

What eventually became obsessions and unholy grails of horror to me were the articles about older films, actors and directors.  It was through one of these articles that I was introduced to the films of  
H.G. Lewis.








All I had was the blood-drenched film stills to go on, but the Godfather of Gore (and Direct Marketing) was permanently stuck in my craw.  These were films I had to view.


A Few Years Pass


Progress and the modern world comes to my small postage stamp of a town in the form of a video store. And what did my orbs fall upon there upon the shelf?

This!


and this!!


and, oh yes! Yes! This!


I was over-joyed. Finally my life would be complete. This was not something I could bring up to the counter with my parents present this was something that must be rented and enjoyed with pals. Mainly my pal, Humbert, who was a year older and had a license.

So.

A few weeks later, Humbert and I made the scene, rented the films and settled down into his basement free of parents and responsibility - we were ready for some gore...





Humbert stopped the VCR during the opening of Blood Feast and said, "I have to show you something. It's been freaking me out. I have to show someone. I just have to."

I was intrigued.

He led me to the "laundry room area" of his basement and opened a closet. He brought out a small trunk and opened it. The contents were astonishing. It was filled with Swingers' Magazines. The sort of publications a couple or a single man or woman would use to hook up with others who enjoyed meeting at hotels, swapping partners and then, well, fucking and sucking into the wee hours of the night.

"These are my parents' magazines. It all makes sense. They go away on weekends every other month...just to stay at a hotel. Sometimes in Canada, sometimes in Cleveland. My parents are...swingers."

Now...Humbert's parents were much OLDER than my parents. They were older than any of the parents I knew at the time. Humbert's brother and sister were out of the house and already had families of their own. His parents seemed more like Grandparents to my 15-year-old-view of people.

The outrageous images my hormone-infused brain conjured were terrifying. The weird visions of his sweet, elderly parents nude, sweating and fornicating with strange couples in swank hotels was much more terrifying than anything Mr. Lewis could splash onto the screen.

So...to this very day...when I re-visit the films of H.G. Lewis, I think about my boyhood friend's elderly parents and their wild, secret sex lives.