It’s raining, and that’s the only sound I can hear now. Earlier it was the sound of the chain saw cutting down dead branches from the giant pine trees in my front yard. Now the lawn is covered in spindly dead branches. Gracie and I watched for a while. I got bored. She didn’t.
The first of my movies has arrived, actually two movies have arrived, both on a single disc. The descriptions on the covers are perfectly wonderful, so bad you have to laugh. The first, The Incredible Two-Headed Transplant, says, “One a Hillbilly Half-Wit, the Other a Psycho-Killer! They were headed for trouble.” The other movie, The Thing with Two Heads, says,”They share the same body but hate each other’s guts!” The premiers, though, will have to wait until next week as this week’s movie night is postponed due to rain.
When I was a kid, I could see the face of the man in the moon. Some nights he looked happy while other nights he looked surprised, his mouth wide open. I weighed in on the controversy and voiced my opinion that the moon was not made of cheese. I guessed maybe rocks and sand though cheese would have been more fun but less durable. I knew there were aliens somewhere on a far off planet who probably didn’t look like us, but I had no idea exactly how they looked or if they’d discreetly visited. For some reason I figured they’d have really bad taste in fashion, and that’s how we’d find them. I’m thinking checkered coats and bowler hats. They’d speak in stilted English and not understand idioms or slang. I haven’t found one yet but bad taste in fashion abounds so I’ll keep looking.
I got to grow up in an age of wonder when trips to the moon were science fiction, and computers were background props in space ships so big people stood upright, ate at a table and slept in state rooms. The porthole windows showed stars and meteoroids which never moved, special effects being what they were back then. I never minded. I had learned early on to suspend disbelief. It made movies so much more fun.
Some of my friends can’t believe the creature features I watch. They talk about the bad special effects, the B actors and the unbelievable creatures. What they don’t know is I can still see the man in the moon and my suspension of disbelief is finely honed after all these years. I know wonder can be found even in a B movie.
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