B-Movie Reels Read Online Free PDF

Isn’t that insane? I’ve had offers to sell them to marketing companies. They’re offering good cash, and the main company, Schlock-Shock-Cinema, wanted me to write the commentary. I’m giving you the job, Andy, because you’re my best student. Prove yourself and commit to projects for the sake of work. If you want to become a filmmaker, then here’s where you pay your dues.”
    He started up the projector and decided he’d replace the broken one with his uncle’s. Maybe the university would notice, maybe not—but for now, he didn’t care. The sounds of the shutter clicked and the fan hummed within the projector box. Andy propped a notebook and pen on one leg, the bottle of scotch on the other. He waited for the first reel of the film to cut in from grainy splotches, and speckling and surface damage to form a picture.  
    Eerie music from a pipe organ throbbed and occasionally crackled from the poor sound quality. The opening scene focused on a space-craft—Ed Wood quality like two dinner plates glued together—hovering over a miniature set meant to be woods. The shot panned down to a man fishing with his feet dipped into the lake.  
    Beew! Beew! Beew!
    “Gamma rays!” the man shouted, falling over into the water when a pink beam struck his skull.  
    “How the hell would he know they were gamma rays?” Andy burst out laughing. He was tipsy. He had to be careful not to drink too much. He still had the dinner date with the Jennings’ later tonight. “What a stooge.”
    The lake’s waves smoothed out, and then the scene changed to a backwoods cabin. The shot panned to an old man sitting on a porch with his hound dog. The old man sat on a rocking chair and threw back a swill of whiskey. The dog barked at a shadow materializing from the woods.  
    “What is it, Toby?”
    The form collapsed into the front yard, his identity still unknown. The lantern hanging on a pole poorly illuminated the scene, creating a creepy atmosphere. The stranger whimpered at the man, and the hound skirted off into the woods, yelping in fright. “Toby—what the ’ell is wrong with you? Hey mister, are you okay? If you’re hurt, there’s a hospital up the road a ways.”
    The old man closed in, and he recognized the interloper. “Charlie, is that you? Did you drink too much again? My god, what’s wrong with you?”
    “Shoot me, Ray—just shoot me!”
    “You’re not thinking, buddy. Did someone hit you with their car? Speak up, man.”
    “IT HURTS,” Charlie shrieked, curling up into himself. “IT’S CRAWLING UNDER MY SKIN. IT’S SUCKING THE BLOOD FROM MY VEINS, AND IT’S WORKING ITSELF INTO MY BR-AAAAAIN!”
    Ray hurried over to Charlie, concerned for his friend. He bent to turn the man over when the body whipped around and seized him first. Charlie’s face was turned inside and out, his face a smear of fake-blood and cheap prosthetics. His organs slithered out from his midsection, looking like entrails from a slaughterhouse. Ray hollered, and a jet of blue slime leaped from Charlie’s imploded chest and leeched onto his face. It crawled down his throat, and soon the slime worked itself down into the old man’s stomach. Ray gurgled and belched until a torrent of blood spilled from his face, and the old man keeled over.  
    Andy enjoyed a liberal dose of scotch. “This looks like a rip-off of The Blob .”
     
    The last reel of the film ended, and it was almost eight o’clock. Andy gathered up his keys and piled into his Fiesta. As his car turned onto the road, he failed to notice the other set of headlights that blinked on from the other end of the street and pulled into his front yard.  
     
    2
    “Mary-Sue better smooch him good,” Jimmy Jennings grumbled as he parked his truck under a clearing of trees near the woods. Nobody could see the vehicle from the road, and he was confident Andy Ryerson hadn’t seen him either. “I can’t afford to miss out on a payday because of that stupid girl.”
    He inserted