TRAVERSE CITY, Mich. — Members of the local death metal band Flesh Quilt figured it would be a wasted opportunity to not take a killer band pic while at the cemetery after visiting their recently deceased friend, confirmed sources who couldn’t argue with that logic.
“Look, I don’t see what the big deal is,” noted Flesh Quilt vocalist Broderick Landingham. “I don’t think it’s in bad taste to take some promo shots right after visiting our friend’s grave who recently died after a courageous battle with brain cancer. It’s just smart time management. Plus the setting is perfect; sad-looking cherubs on top of a mausoleum, crows perched atop gnarled oak trees, an old man crying on a bench. This place screams death metal band pic, maybe even an album cover!”
Cemetery groundskeeper Gordon McSwindlon shared a different opinion about the musicians taking pictures in such a somber place.
“Pests! That’s what I think about them,” exclaimed McSwindlon. “These devil-looking weirdos dressed all in black are harder to get rid of than a family of groundhogs. They’ll be doing these strange poses in front of tombstones, skipping around with candles, and sitting up in the trees looking very moody. Then they take pictures of the whole thing. I just don’t get it! I usually just spray them with bear mace and they scatter like cockroaches. This cemetery is infested with metal bands.”
The ghost of their deceased friend was heard disapproving of the band’s actions.
“Boo! Just kidding. Sorry,” mused the local cemetery ghost and former Flesh Quilt bassist Miranda Baxter. “Well I see that they’ve moved on very smoothly without me. I’ve only been dead for like a few weeks. Death isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s mostly boring. I mean, yes it’s pretty metal to fly around and scare people and stuff, but that gets old pretty quick. Did they even think to ask me to be in any of their precious band shots? No. I mean, I’m a literal ghost. Seems like a no-brainer. But that’s not new, since they never invited me to photoshoots when I was living.”
At press time, the members of Flesh Quilt felt it would be wise to take some backup photos while visiting the guitarist’s nephew at the local children’s hospital.
It’s just a house. Unless the market in question is some neighborhood-wide estate sale where your former AP English teacher just so happens to sell her garden squash as well, catching a glimpse of the eponymous residence from “Welcome to Dead House” is very unlikely. Next.
“Deep Trouble” is just about the only place you’d have to be in to see a hammerhead shark at an outdoor grocery store. There is an argument to be made for seaside markets and local fisheries that sharks might regularly visit, but seeing as how this is number 14, this argument is faulty. The term “monster” is also a pretty loose description for a totally average shark, so this one is at a 10-15% likelihood, max.
Judging by the radical, hot pink lair that the titular Masked Mutant jumps out from in “Attack of the Mutant,” it’s safe to assume he doesn’t get out that often. Granted, when he’s not plotting some dastardly scheme in that villainous castle he’s probably present at every comic con and Smash Bros. tournament in the nearby area. As a result of this, the chances of catching him browsing the heirloom tomatoes at the nearby organic table are slim to none.
Okay, it is pretty farfetched to expect to see regular-teenager-turned-bee Gary Lutz buzzing around the honey table at city produce sales. But it’s not impossible, right? There are always a few stray insects flying around the fruits, and those beekeepers love to brag about their “totally eco-friendly beehomes” and “organic honeycomb.” Who’s to say one of those pesky bugs isn’t a clean-cut tween whose body swap wish went horribly wrong? The jury’s still out on this one.
This one is contingent on whether or not pets are allowed at your local farmstand. When they are, you’re typically bombarded by some vicious German Shepherd owned by a dawdling middle-aged couple rather than some yapping pooch like “The Barking Ghost.” Either way you are usually at the receiving end of a string of woofs and snarls as you try to politely scooch out of the way towards the cartons of strawberries.
With such an esteemed title, the cover creature of “A Night at Terror Tower” doesn’t frequent farmers markets all that often. Busy sharpening his gnarly ax and scaring the local youth with his horrendous posture, there is no way this guy carves a lot of time out for buying local. In spite of this, you might spot him under that tent with all the bearded dudes who try to pawn off their homemade leather goods and jerky. This hooded beefcake would for sure add some dried teriyaki venison to his pre-workout meal routine.
This one has a couple of demerits right off the bat. On top of being regionally locked to the Los Angeles area (and technically Alaska if you’re a nerd and read the book), this odious yeti might not even fit underneath the awnings of the produce stand. Besides all of that, this guy is a bimonthly regular at farmers markets for sure. Any local fruit this big lug picks out is going straight to his ice cavern for smoothie prep.
There’s roughly a 50/50 chance “The Haunted Mask” makes an appearance while you browse the local grocery. Admittedly, it is rare to see one of these outside of Halloween, and worn by someone other than a snotty elementary schooler for that matter. Then again, even monstrous, living faces need their fruits and veggies to stay healthy and stave off further decay. Don’t pry the wearers of the haunted masks too much though. Some shoppers just straight up look like that.
This might be a bit of a cheat, but you can spot Stine’s classic “Monster Blood” at any farmers market if you look hard enough. That natural herbal jam that costs $23? Monster blood. The bulk laundry detergent sold by that elderly lady who smells faintly of mothballs? Also monster blood. If you frequent a really hip produce shop with kombucha vendors, you can take a wild guess as to what those bacteria are really swimming around in.
On the occasion that produce vendors peddle their dusty antiques as well, “The Cuckoo Clock of Doom” can be pretty easy to point out. Unfortunately, its awesome powers of time reversal are most definitely broken if it’s being half heartedly sold amidst old wooden crates and collector’s plates. If you’re looking to be jumpscared by a wooden bird and spill asparagus everywhere while making a fool of yourself, be sure to catch it at the top of the hour.
The face of the Goosebumps series himself has seen his fair share of supporting local greengrocery. Slappy’s the kind of consumer to hop on the market craze for a while, posting his favorite local veggies and maple syrups on his socials. Maybe he checks into the farmstand every once and a while, but not since he’s hit the major leagues. Nowadays, he buys his groceries via delivery apps since he’s “too busy drafting his new memoir.” Sure thing buddy.
The only real “Curse of Camp Cold Lake” is the inundation of guys with this haircut who flood the local farmstand. They might not always be shopping around at the market, but everyone knows at least one Camp Cold Lake Ghost. They’re the ones whose contribution to the office holiday gift exchange is goat milk soap that you will never use because you can’t resist the temptations of Bath & Body Works’ semi-annual sale. 60-70% chance of running into one of these middle-parted fiends.
Coincidentally enough, “Calling All Creeps!” doubles as an excellent way to grab the attention of a majority of people who shop at produce markets. Of course these tools are still using a damn telephone booth like it’s 1996. If you take this out of the equation and instead swap their antiquated communication methods for various facial piercings, tattoos, and a tote bag with a succulent on it, then you’ve got roughly two-thirds of the farmers market clientele.
When writing “The Scarecrow Walks at Midnight,” Mr. Stine clearly didn’t take into consideration what most scarecrows get up to around 10 a.m. on a Saturday. With those scrappy, disheveled clothes and gardener’s hats, these otherwise inanimate strawmen fit right in with the market scene, and can be the most tolerable people to deal with. That much time in the field has to mean this guy is pretty knowledgeable, he’s surrounded by corn for cryin’ out loud!
There is at least one Counselor Buddy at every farmers market. This is an indisputable fact. Even more horrifying, it is guaranteed that the Buddy present during your visit will make some dull vegetable pun or comment about your groceries. Everything from the baseball cap, tucked in t-shirt, and those deprived, manic eyes just scream “agriculturist”. No longer just “The Horror At Camp Jellyjam”, this asshole hawks his pickled vegetables with that same nightmarish grin everywhere.
