Picture a lunatic doctor with glowing spectacles, elbow-length black rubber gloves, and a “vee haff vays uff makkink zshyou tolk” accent.

Now button him up in a “Psychosurgical Coat” from Von Charon Productions and then try to get it back without a crowbar.

We met the Von Charons, Tom and Anita, at Indy Haunt Fest in Indianapolis, and they were as friendly and hospitable as their products are creepy and unsettling.

If you’re in charge of outfitting the staff and clientele for your local haunted asylum this year, it would be worth the time to look at Von Charon’s “Insane Ensemble” haunt costumes. Each piece is made, according to designer and chief fabricator, Tom, “from the first cut of fabric to the last stitch by yours-truly, right in our own little shop of horrors.”

“These are not your average home haunt costumes,” Tom said. “They are designed and constructed of materials that will be comfortable and still stand up to the nightly abuse given them by professional haunt actors. Our restraint jackets are NOT fetish wear and are completely escapable.”

Curious about what inspired Tom’s work, I asked where he got his ideas.

“True story … one of my earliest childhood memories was that of being trampled by two guys in a cow suit on trick-or-treat night. I can still recall being amazed and terrified at an age before I could even comprehend what that meant. I was two years old.”

You still wake up sometimes, don’t you, Tom? You wake up in the dark and hear the cows.

In any case, these costumes look great, and the folks at Von Charon really couldn’t be nicer. Discriminating psychopathic doctors wouldn’t be caught dead -and mutilated by their deranged patients- wearing anything else.

Proofreader: Are you sure it’s a good idea to poke fun about the cows?
S. Blue: He won’t come after me. He would consider that rude.

Category: Halloween   Tags: doctor, haunt costumes, straight jacket, von charon

We flirted with 100° this week, and we’ll be flirting with it again next week. All this philandering is starting to get on my nerves.

It’s that time of year when your old (emphasis on old) pal Spook searches for some scrap of motivation that hasn’t evaporated or otherwise got burned to a crisp in the August blast furnace.

Snug Harbor’s weed crop thrives, encroaching by the minute like a wet, writhing blanket of Kudzu. Bag worms have won the Battle of The Conifers and the killing fields are littered with bodies yet to be policed. Minor annoyances collect like drips of sweat, tiny needles that itch the back of the neck.

Something clicks, and a normally friendly fellow turns into a raging maniac, yelling, “get off my lawn, you damn kids!”

Summer Soup. Blah.

I’m really looking forward to Fall this year.
Probably not half as much as Mrs. Spookyblue.

Category: Stuff   Tags: Monsters

This newly completed, next generation Grumble critter sports several design improvements over his predecessor which include an inspection hatch for the electrics, and zero chicken wire. In addition to being much lighter than the original Grumble, a removable noggin and built-in stand round out what has been a great revisit to this project.

But, now that it’s time to box him up and send him to the nice lady who paid in advance, I’m getting that sad “walking the foster dog to his new home” feeling. Grumble (there can really only be one) isn’t as sentimental about it. Every so often you’ll hear him out in the garage. “Hey, Tater! . . . Happy trails, Tater!”

No idea why he calls him Tater.

Category: Halloween   Tags: grumble, Monsters, pumpkin monster

I don’t know how the frog got in the kitchen. I didn’t even know about the frog until later. It was the clatter and crash of the cat colliding against the ceiling fan that got my attention.

Our cat, you see, is very old. Ancient, really. To the point that there are far more cat angels humming around Snug Harbor, numbers stamped on their tunics, than the customary 7 or 8 one might expect to see escorting a cat of her age. This suggests to me that she was either allotted extras at the factory, or she’s been cheating. In any case, my immediate impression was that she was having some kind of seizure as she ricocheted off the fridge and shot into the pantry.

Before I could take two steps, out popped her head. She glanced up at me, winked, and said, “mrrmph!” That’s when I saw the frog.

All cats posses the ability to finesse, to look important, on top of things regardless of circumstances. It’s a conspicuous trait to which we’ve grown accustomed, and sometimes even believe. This, however, is terribly difficult to pull off when the frog you are carrying in your jaws is trying earnestly to kick you senseless. In a sudden burst of energy, the frog landed a wicked kekomi* and jumped free. She tried to follow, but the trajectory of her somersault was wide, and he darted behind a trash can.

I finally had my wits back by this point and was able to intervene, not that the frog needed my help. She saw him go behind the trash can, but she didn’t see me scoop him up and take him outside. She still thinks he’s back there somewhere. Some evenings she sits by the can and waits.

Stupid cat.

*kekomi: “boot to the head”

Category: Stuff   Tags: karate frog