The Complete Drive-In: Three Novels of Anarchy, Aliens and the Popcorn King (Drive-In, Books 1-3)
Joe R. Lansdale
Language: English
Pages: 329
ISBN: 2:00340861
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Friday night at the Orbit Drive-in: a circus of noise, sex, teenage hormones, B-movie blood, and popcorn. On a cool, crisp summer night, with the Texas stars shining down like rattlesnake eyes, movie-goers for the All-Night Horror Show are trapped in the drive-in by a demonic-looking comet. Then the fun begins. If the movie-goers try to leave, their bodies dissolve into goo. Cowboys are reduced to tears. Lovers quarrel. Bikini-clad women let their stomachs’ sag, having lost the ambition to hold them in. The world outside the six monstrous screens fades to black while the movie-goers spiral into base humanity, resorting to fighting, murdering, crucifying, and cannibalizing to survive. Part dark comedy part horror show, Lansdale's cult Drive-In books are as shocking and entertaining today as they were 20 years ago.
Mini Shopaholic (Shopaholic, Book 6)
aware of the ghostly drive-in that pursued us and floated around us and tried to become one with us. I felt I had taken some of the pressure off the teapot. And Reba, she was sweeter that night, and slower, and I felt respected, and when I came, I opened my eyes and saw over Reba’s shoulder the ghostly shades from the drive-in drift by. An old acquaintance, Crier, was looking my direction, not really seeing, just standing there ghost-like, looking at the spot where I lay on my back, Reba
was surprised at that. I was still alive. I could still breathe. But I was surrounded by wetness. Not the thick mess that I had felt before, but wetness. I was bobbing about in the water, and I could see the water rippling, and there was great white foam, and sticking out of the foam was the nose of the bus, the windshield gone, the roof crushed in, the front right tire blown. I had been shoved through the windshield, and the bus had shot to the surface, if ever so briefly. Perhaps the
wasn’t much, but comparatively, this was the best part of the drive-in for us to hide out. For some reason, East Screen had had a lot less badness going on. There had certainly been some stuff happening over there; Crier, who knew everything had told us about it, but compared to the rest of Lot A, and certainly B, it was pretty tame business. The movies changed as usual, and I could imagine the Popcorn King in the film room, going from projector to projector, switching them as needed. (Didn’t he
2 with Popalong Cassidy. No doubt all of these books seem to have at their core a love–hate relationship with the entertainment media, TV, movies, etc., as well as a love for false profits and a strange desire to identify with pretty horrible people. The novel, like the first, was written quickly, though perhaps a little less quickly. Like the first, I was uncertain what I had wrought. Upon reading it in galley form (I don’t think the term galley is used so much these days), I found myself
something dead in that blender.” “That’s what I said, Dad.” “Funny,” Mom said. “It’s just that old robe you guys smell.” “Ah,” Dad said. “The melodious voice of the serving wench. Make me some ham and eggs.” “Poof.” Mom said. “You are some ham and eggs. Any more requests?” “None I can think of,” Dad said. He got a bowl, spoon, milk and cereal, arranged them at the table and pulled up a chair. “What happened to the ham and eggs, Your Majesty?” Mom asked. “Too lazy to fix them myself.” “And