October 23rd, 2000 Every year at about this time, misreviews rolls out its ragged, threadbare super-review of the Halloween movies. As it so frequently happens with me, what started as a curiosity back then has manifested itself into a full blown obsession today. I own four different video copies of Halloween, a Michael Myers "big head bopper" on my car dashboard, two identical copies of Halloween II, a Michael Myers mask with matching pajamas, an autographed DVD of Halloween H2O, a Halloween snowglobe, and a homemade "Bob" costume. I'm totally serious. For me, Laurie Strode and all of her pals have become more than characters in a movie. They're like trusted friends and confidants that I meet up with every October, hug and have a few beers with, and then watch get brutally massacred. However, the more times I see it, the more I feel that the film ends with a certain sense of injustice. I think Michael Myers was fully slacking off in his inaugural film, as there are at least three people that really were asking to get killed, that somehow managed to have all of their friends and neighbors get butchered around them without so much as getting a nail chipped themselves. Well I'm going to right the wrongs. I'm taking matters into my own hands. I'm pulling on my rubber Shatner mask, polishing up my stabbing instruments, and I'm making my list of... Halloween Characters I'm Going to Kill By Marcus Judith Myers' Boyfriend I think I speak on behalf of all losery niceguys who complain that "good guys always finish last" (which I guess I actually do) when I say that Judith's boyfriend has to die. He's exactly the kind of prick that's supposed to get hacked in this sort of film, but he somehow manages to come out of it totally scot free and reproductively cleansed. Act one, scene one. Judith and her pudwhack boyfriend are making out on the couch. As a man who doesn't mince words on the romantic journey to his lover's soul, he belches out only two lines in this scene. Line one: "We are alone, aren't we?" To which Judith replies (to paraphrase), "Well, not exactly. My six year old brother Michael is around here somewhere, probably outside the window watching you date rape me, creep." Line two: "Let's go upstairs." That's it. All he wants to know is: "Is your shotgun toting father on the premises?" and "Which way is your vagina?" So they run upstairs. One minute later, literally one minute later, he's putting his shirt back on as he comes down the stairs to deliver line three: "Look Judy, it's really late. I gotta go." Ha ha! Talk about "Wham, bam, thank you ma'am!" It takes me longer than one minute to get my shoes untied, let alone hump the babysitter! He has now offended two major American lobby groups. The Council for Nice Thoughtful Romantic Guys who Never Get Laid, and the Foundation for the Proliferation of the Female Orgasm. You can tell as he's leaving, after shrugging off Judith's pleas to call her the next day, that he's thinking "God, I really hope somebody offs her tonight so that I don't have to talk to her dumb ass at school on Monday." For these reasons and so many more, I'm going to personally kill Judith Myers' boyfriend. My weapon of choice for this mission: Gonorrhea. Tommy Doyle I know, I know, it's against the laws of good taste to kill off a kid in a slasher flick, but I think Tommy Doyle is an exceptional case. I mean, what kind of ass clown brings a pumpkin to school with him? The kid has issues. And what's with this outfit he's wearing? Far be it from me to play fashion police, but he looks like a shorter, gayer version of Luke Skywalker. I suppose he could be dressed up as short gay Luke Skywalker for Halloween, but considering that he doesn't ever leave the house, and nobody else is dressed up, I chalk this up to him being some kind of bizarre Mark Hamill fetishist. It's like dressing up and saying you're going trick or treating as Barbara Streisand, but never leaving your bathroom, and doing it on August 14th. Underage or not, Tommy and the eternal couch potato Lindsey totally get it on. Oh yeah, scoff if you will, but just look at the way he leers at her. The way he tries to charm her by slipping out of her zombified, tube watching glance to hide behind the curtains and softly call her name. Dude, we see them in bed together for Pete's sake. They did it, and people who do it get axed. I saw Scream 637 times. I know the rules. End of story. I'm gonna kill you Tommy Doyle... that is, assuming you didn't already get killed in Halloween VI... I forget. Anyway, I'm gonna gouge out your eyes with a Boba Fett, freak. Lindsey Wallace's Neighbor Even with all of the unworthy copulation and perverted prepubescent lust that the others fling around like so many used prophylactics, if I were going on a murder spree in Haddonfield, my first hit would be Lindsey Wallace's neighbor. Why? Because he's an inconsiderate bastard, that's why. After discovering Lynda, Annie, and Bob's voluptuous dead bodies, and then getting stabbed in the arm and knocked down a flight of stairs in the Wallace house, Laurie valiantly and intelligently runs to the neighbor's house for help. You know how when you're watching a slasher picture, you always yell at the screen, "Duh! Hello! Turn on the light! Get out of the house! Don't look in the closet labeled 'knives and throwing implements!'" Even watching Friday the 13th Part III while drunk off your ass, you still think you would be Mr. Smooth Escape if you were in that situation. Well Laurie does the smart thing. She doesn't go to the most remote corner of the third level, stone walled, sub-basement and then scream until the killer finds her. No, like a reasonable person, she runs to the house next door and bangs on the door, screaming at the top of her lungs that she needs help. And what does the neighbor do? Does he open the door and save her? No. That asshole turns on the porch light, looks at her, and then turns it off and goes back to watching an infomercial on the revolutionary Spacebag Storage Pack. In a selfish kind of way, it was the right thing to do. He actually is the guy who knows how to survive a horror movie. If a sexy virgin comes to the door, spewing out blood and screaming for help, you better just pretend you're not home unless you want to be a hairy pile of blood and flesh pulp before Letterman comes on. He did manage to escape Michael that night... but he won't escape me. Weapon of choice: Spacebag. Honorable Mention - Paul Okay, so I don't really want to kill Paul. In fact, I think Paul should get the Congressional Medal for Relationship Valor. "Paul?" you ask, "Who the hell is Paul?" Paul was Annie's boyfriend. Remember? He doesn't technically appear in the movie. In fact, we only meet him over the phone, like Suzanne Somers in a later episode of Three's Company. Now I don't say this often, so when I do, I like to think that it carries a lot of weight: Annie is a bitch. A superbitch if you will. In Germany, she'd be Der Bitchhausen Grossen. If she was a Burt Reynolds movie, she'd be Bitch and a Half. You get the idea. A typical conversation with Annie goes something like this: Laurie: I thought I saw a big hulking mass murderer over there behind the bush. Annie: Eat me, Laurie. You always see things because you're such a virgin dyke. I mean, if I got laid as infrequently as you do, I'd kill myself. I mean it, I really would. Jackass. Laurie: I'm serious Annie, I think I saw somebody. Annie: Yeah, it was probably some guy who would rather shove his dick in a pencil sharpener than talk to you, you ugly cow. Why don't you make an effort to stop being such a fuck up? Skeezbag. Laurie: You're my best friend, Annie. Anyway, Paul makes a booty call to the babysitting Annie, and after being verbally emasculated on the phone, he actually convinces her to come and pick his lazy ass up for some nookie. Not only does he have the brazen resolve to date this monster, but he also has the spheres to call up and say "Look Godzilla, I'm feelin' a little randy and I don't feel like walking over to where you are. Why don't you forget that whole 'responsible for the child's safety' thing and come and get me so that we can knock some boots?" Asshole or not, Paul, you have style. But the best is yet to come. After ditching Lindsey and composing "Oh Paul (I Can No Longer Stall)", the number one Billboard Pop Hit for 1978, Annie mercifully becomes ex-alive at the hands of Michael Myers. And what does Paul do? Does he get worried? Does he investigate? Does he even call back when she never shows up? No! He presumably gets tired, wanks off, and goes to bed. What a guy. I'm not going to kill you, Paul. You've dated Annie. You're dead on the inside already. All content © 1999-2007 misinformer.com.   Screen captures provided by Shooting A Camera Directly At The Damn TV Screen, Inc.