My name is Harley Murgatroyd and Glenn Danzig wants me dead. Countless times the man has threatened my life, from putting knives in me to peeling the flesh from my skull. Yeah, the big head bone we use to hold our brains. Well hear this, I’m not afraid any more and I challenge you, Glenn Danzig, to just fucking try and take this fleshy hair covered skull.
I was a child, no more than 13 years of age, when I received the first threat on my life. Misfits Collection 1, track 10, “Skulls.” That’s where I first heard him utter the words that would define the rest of my life, “I want your skull…” I repeated the track on my Walkman to make sure I heard it clearly and it was reiterated, “…I need your skull.”
I’ve spent the last 20 years training my body to ward off skull thieving weirdos. My training has included a strict regimen of working my neck, jaw, teeth, and brain muscles, and of course, consuming gallons upon gallons of milk each week. I’ve studied your movements, Danzig, I’ve listened and read the Misfits literature, all of which led me to the perfect venue. A tourist trap in England with a phenomenal gift shop, the London Dungeon. It is here, on Halloween, we shall settle our horror business once and for all.
I’ve seen the kitty litter pics, Danzig. I’ve seen the tenderly wrapped Christmas gifts. I heard about the HOA disagreements and the brick pile. You may have fooled everyone else into thinking you’re some slightly sub-normal guy who is simultaneously a musician and B movie fan, but you haven’t fooled me. I am no longer a little girl, I am a large woman with a calcium fortified skull covered in extremely thick skin. It is time we formally step into the gauntlet. Mommy says I can go out and kill tonight, let’s do this motherfucker.
My skull is right here, you spooky grandpa! Meet me at the London Dungeon on Halloween. Twelve O’clock, don’t be late.