Traumafessions :: Tenebrous Kate on Pet Sematary

UNK: After an exhausting day of playing croquet with Mr. Canacorn and Roz “Pinky Tuscadero” Kelly, Aunt John and I decided to hit the hay (we actually do sleep on a pile of hay). Suddenly we heard a loud banging on the Kindertrauma Castle door (My bad, I left the drawbridge down again!). I can’t tell you how surprised we were to find none other than THE Tenebrous Kate of the seriously spectacular blog LOVE TRAIN FOR THE TENEBROUS EMPIRE standing before us looking as smashing as usual. She informed us that her COFFIN DRAGSTER had run out of gas right outside of Kindertrauma territory and she wondered if we would be so kind as to supply her with a refill.

I was too star struck to respond but Aunt John, always the haggler, was quick on his feet belting out a Rankin & Bass inspired ditty that was mostly nonsense, but whose chorus contained the following proposal, “If you want some gas today…a TRAUMAFESSION a tank is the price you pay!” Kate was unmoved by the actual song, but visibly impressed by the plethora of clay-mation woodland creatures who sang back up and agreed to this fair exchange of goods. Plopping herself down on the best beanbag chair in the conservatory, she began to spin the tale of a young, pre-Tenebrous Kate who unhappily discovered that toddlers and eighteen wheelers don’t mix…


No one seems to believe me when I tell them that I was an incredibly fragile child. Perhaps this story will serve as proof positive that it was only time and harsh experience that built up the thick skin that now protects me from various and sundry cinematic grenades…

Picture, if you will, Wee Tenebrous Kate at her gal pal’s Halloween party in Seventh Grade (I was dressed as Alice Cooper–narrow gender definitions be DAMNED; I wanted to wear a top hat and greasepaint). The decision was made by the other party-going kids (all of whom were doubtless composed of far sterner stuff than I) that the film de la nuit would be “Pet Sematary.” To underscore: STEPHEN KING’s PET SEMATARY. I was quaking in my tiny-yet-undoubtedly-fabulous boots, let me tell you—STEPHEN KING books were only to be approached by daring souls, inured to the ordeal of blood and guts. I’d been exposed to the Universal horror films since I was a tot (Tenebrous Dad does a most impressive on e-man impersonation of the Van Helsing-Dracula confrontation from the Tod Browning film) and I looked forward to “Disney’s Halloween Treat” on teevee every year, but I had a notoriously delicate constitution with regards to all matters gory. I steeled myself as the lights dimmed and the VHS was popped into the player…

Needless to say, when that semi comes barreling down and smooshes li’l Gage right on through to the other side, it was more than I could take. I started sobbing and ran out of the room—I was placed in a separate room with the one other girl whose parents didn’t allow her to watch R-rated movies (at least SHE had the excuse of having lame parents). To this day, the very mention of PET SEMATARY brings tear-flavored memories of my pre-teen shame. One might make a compelling argument that the reason I’m willing to hurl myself repeatedly at über-gruesome movies is to fully banish the laughter of my classmates from my mind.

My pain–it makes for good comedy sometimes!

UNK: After T.K.’s tale concluded, we made good on our end of the bargain. With her tank full of petrol, our Kate sped away with promises of returning again. I thought it ironic that somebody whose TRAUMAFESSION concerns vehicular disaster should drive so recklessly across Aunt John’s prize winning Venus Flytrap patch and straight through a recently mended fence at approximately 200 miles an hour, but that’s our Kate, and we wouldn’t have her any other way! We don’t even mind that we found most of the Baklava Aunt John served her politely hidden in one of our best napkins only partially chewed, we just want her to visit again and soon! Trust me, after spending a day with the P.D.A. twins, Mr. Canacorn and Roz “Pinky Tuscadero” Kelly, that Kate was quite a burst of fresh air!

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14 years ago

Miko Hughes subjects me to fits of terror, as well. I think it is a purely natural, normal reaction.

Like so:

14 years ago

Thanks for the company and the favor, dear gents.  You’re the loveliest hosts an Empress could want  :)  I trust that a nice Amorphophallus titanum  will provide a reasonable companion piece for those venus flytraps I managed to so carelessly defile.  Till next time–*air kisses* to you both, cupcakes.

14 years ago

Unkle: Canasta. Yes. You’re speaking my language.

Do you think it would be okay if we also brought along: ?

Corey Convex
14 years ago

Mmm. I thank you. That was my first game of strip croquet.

I wrote something about you in my memory book after I got home that night:

Dear Diary: Unkle told me he teaches people “real life.” He said, real life sucks losers dry. You want to fuck with the eagles, you have to learn to fly. I said, so, you teach people how to spread their wings and fly? He said, yes. I said, you’re beautiful.

See you boys in a week. XO

14 years ago

Did she NEVER see the whole movie?? Meaning, she NEVER got to see ZELDA?????   If she thought the baby getting hit by a truck while THE RAMONES cheerfully plays was freaky she would have just LOVED ZELDA!

aunt john
14 years ago

: Lick it up, baby. Lick. It. Up.

Amanda By Night
14 years ago

HA! Those screen captures were HILARIOUS. And mentioning Roz Kelly, well, it was fucking genius!