The imagination of a horror-fan has no limits and a re-occuring fantasy that we enjoy debating is the “What Would You Do?” situation. A plague of the living dead is immediately dismissed as a joyous romp: easy to handle and plenty o’ fun while running around listening to Goblin tunes. The reality is that not everyone has easy access to handguns anymore and you’ll be far into a state of shock and panic to think clearly. I won’t go into too much detail about that kind of walking dead but rather another: vampires.
Here’s what Eddie Spaghetti would do if Fright Night was FOR REAL:
The basic plot of Fright Night is a teen’s discovery of his new neighbour’s secret: he’s a blood sucker in the ‘burbs. The film follows Charlie Brewster (William Ragsdale) trying to get the aid of local late-night horror film host Peter Vincent (Roddy McDowell) in killing the ghoul before he can bite Charlie and his buddies. The teen makes his discovery late one night as he watches a campy picture on Fright Night (the show hosted by Vincent). Jerry Dandridge (Chris Sarandon) forgot to leave his window blinds closed but decides to gum a neck anyways and a peeping Charlie is immediately marked for death.
If I saw my new neighbour with fangs about to neck some chick, I wouldn’t completely jump to the conclusion he’s a vampire. He potentially has a fetish and like anybody, I’d continue to watch (admit it, you would too). Once he notices me peeping, that is when I’d be afraid: he’ll walk over and introduce his fist to my face. Suppose that I saw fangs protrude from his normal teeth at one point; now the vampire explanation doesn’t sound so crazy anymore but how would I protect myself? Plant garlic in the backyard is one step but I don’t know if it falls in the rules of Fright Night, much like having complete faith in order for crucifixes to be weapons. That’s one area I’d be S.O.L.: I am not of any faith or religion so my alternative would be to sign Count Dingus to several subscriptions of Watchtower magazine so his front door is booby-trapped.
As for destroying the undead next-door, I couldn’t see my own hands hammer a wooden stake into any sort of being’s heart, regardless of how evil they are (an exception being a fourth-grade teacher I had). Accidents do happen and homes do catch fire, so arson is the logical choice. Or to become a mariachi within a small town in Mexico, under the moniker of El Spaghett.