VACACIONES DE TERROR 2
(1990)
aka VACATION OF TERROR 2: DIABOLICAL
BIRTHDAY
(part of HORROR FROM SOUTH OF THE
BORDER VOLUME 1)
Directed by Pedro Galindo III
BCI/Deimos DVD
THE FILM
Late last night, I emerged from
a rote Chicago blizzard. Work had
been tough. The commute home was
tougher. Ears hot, upper-lip wet,
and legs near-frozen, the faint
thoughts of a respiteful paradise
began to take hold. I hit the couch.
Sleep crept in wonderfully.
...
Nacho: "Hola, Senior!"
Me: "Nacho? Is that REALLY
you? Your ponytail-mullet is out
of control. Nice work! Hey -- this
looks like a Halloween party. I
see no signs of a vacation. I specifically
longed for a vacation. What's going
on?"
Nacho [laughs]: "Oh, Sr. Skull!
You know so much, yet so little.
We need no vacations and have little
use for a Freddy glove tonight.
Have you already forgotten what
was revealed in Meatcleaver
Massacre and Jimmy,
The Boy Wonder?"
Me: "I don't follow. Hang on
-- is that a Cocktail poster?"
Nacho [chuckles]: "Very well.
I will show you."
Suddenly, a Garbage Pail Kid transformed
into a demonized Yogurt from Spaceballs.
He pointed, laughed at me and his
nose wiggled. An attractive woman
sang on a stage covered in sawdust;
her lungs sweetly relating a story
of getting punched, boys, and the
general template of Tiffany's "I
Think We're Alone Now". Four
tires blew out, with the accompaniment
of a man whispering "PSSSSSS..."
A little girl was telepathically
pulled across the ground by Yogurt,
but clearly, a skateboard was involved.
She also pushed a car down a driveway.
By herself. Finally, as a room spun
upside down, I saw pin-ups of bikini-clad
women. There was blood and a Halloween
cake and miniature versions of stuff
from Vacation
Of Terror. This barrage
frazzled my thoughts. I could make
no sense of it. Then, Nacho placed
a strange, skull-shaped pendant
in my hand.
Nacho: "Keep this medallion
close to the heart, my friend. Use
it whenever the Blizzard exhausts
your will. Adios, Sr. Skull! ADIOSSSS.....!!"
...
My cheeks hurt. My sides ached.
A sense of peace befell the darkened
room. I noticed that my breast pocket
was emitting a slow, steady mist.
I reached. The skull-pendant was
in my hand. Without warning, it
dissolved into a glistening, circular
disc.
And burned into the rim of that
disc were two simple phrases:
Vacation Of Terror 2. Diabolical
Birthday.
The blizzard had ended. Perhaps,
for good.
AUDIO AND VIDEO
I don't know. It's kind of a haze.
The bikinis were red maybe?
EXTRAS
I seem to recall some vague mention
of Vacaciones
De Terror, Trampa
Infernal, Cemetery
Of Terror, Grave
Robbers, The Demon
Rat, and Don't Panic,
but don't hold me to it.
FINAL THOUGHTS
Praise be to Nacho. This lesson
will never be forgotten. As for
you, my fellow trash cognoscente,
please pay close attention to what
has been relayed. If bliss is a
tangible entity, then the daft,
glorious Vacaciones De Terror
2 is surely within reach. I
believe your breast pocket is beginning
to smoke.
— Joseph A. Ziemba, 02.22.08 |
Nacho, Dream Warrior
Likes to be punched
I agree with this choice.
Mayor Of Awesome
|
