Remember the time we watched “The Mummy’s Revenge” on TV late into the evening and when our parents told us to go upstairs and put on our pajamas we paused at the bottom and saw ACTUALLY SAW a mummy lurking in the dark up at the top waiting for us and we screamed and cried and refused to ascend without an escort?

Remember that Martian movie where, when they died, the Martians’ veins suddenly appeared as livid lines on their skin and then they dissolved into mush and that very night we woke up to peepee and while standing at the toilet noticed those same lines all over our arms not realizing they were just the pressure creases from our sheets and we ran out of the bathroom with our PJs around our ankles screaming and imagining we were about to dissolve into mush and scaring the living daylights out of our parents?

And remember that other time we were lying in bed and we tried to roll over but a skeleton was right behind us and shoved us back over quite forcefully and yet again we screamed and left our parents finally convinced they were making very bad choices about our young TV viewing activity?

Remember telling new second grade friends JJ and Mamoon all about Bloody Mary and how we trooped into the boy’s bathroom at school to test the legend and after saying her name seven times the bevel around the mirror caught the light just so and we thought it was opening and screamed real bloody murder and then they screamed and then we all ran screaming from the bathroom convinced she had arrived?

Good times.

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