To whom it may concern

Today is National Weatherman Day, so let's show WERD-TV's very own Weatherman Wally some love!

It's the 14th of the month, and that's the date we put aside to think about all those amazing minor characters, places, organisations and general backdrop that make Eerie so compellingly watchable.

This month's theme is:

WERD-TV

Strap on your Sky Monsters part 2 (with bubble sole!), and strut like a sky-walking machine down to First Eerie Savings to sing 99 Bottles of Beer with Mister Wilson. Ladies, gentlemen, ain't it good to know you got a friend? Put your white plastic cash dispensing hands together for... ATM with a Heart of Gold!

The Lady of Storms drifted over Eerie, the dark grey thunderclouds that made up the great folds of her skirt blocking out the sky, the spark of merriment in her eyes shooting bolts of lighting that burned white-hot and shattered stone when they landed. The people not already inside hurried for the nearest shelter, and down at the World o' Stuff Mister Radford handed out endless cups of hot chocolate to drenched and shivering citizens.

Alone at WERD-TV, Weatherman Wally sat beside the topographical map of Eerie, shoulders slumped, fingers crisscrossed with electrical burns. This would be a bad one.

Ongoing Verse: Weather

( Read more... )

Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

( Read more... )

It's Tuesday, so today you get a choice between two prompts. Pick one, combine both, pit them against each other - on Tuesday, you choose!

This week, your options are:

WERD-TV versus Eerie Library

Today is National Weatherman Day, so let's show WERD-TV's very own Weatherman Wally some love!

It's Tuesday, so today you get a choice between two prompts. Pick one, combine both, pit them against each other - on Tuesday, you choose!

This week, your options are:

Corn Critters Franchise versus WERD-TV

Strap on your Sky Monsters part 2 (with bubble sole!), and strut like a sky-walking machine down to First Eerie Savings to sing 99 Bottles of Beer with Mister Wilson. Ladies, gentlemen, ain't it good to know you got a friend? Put your white plastic cash dispensing hands together for... ATM with a Heart of Gold!

It took a long time to get all the blood out of his hair, and the bathroom was thick with steam by the time Marshall was done. He shut off the water and reached for the free towel he'd won in one of WERD-TV's stranger pledge drives.

(He was pretty certain he'd never pledged to them in the first place and had avoided the towel for months, suspecting some form of Harvest King-style shenanigans that would become apparent the first time his wet skin came into contact with the soft, fluffy, blue-and-yellow fabric. But then laundry gnomes had invaded the Eeriemat and it had had to close down for a few weeks while the exterminator caught and killed them and, well, needs must. It had worked out okay in the end.)

The mirror had fogged over and as usual the things that lived on the other side of the glass had covered the cloudy surface in rude messages accompanied by ruder illustrations.

"Not cool, guys," Marshall said, using part of the probably-not-secretly-a-trap towel to wipe away the graffiti. "What if my Mom came 'round and saw all these dicks?"

The things in the glass drew another, bigger, penis. Marshall sighed.

Ongoing Verse: Microwave

( Read more... )

Ongoing Verse: Teller Family History

( Read more... )

Ongoing Verse: Harvest

( Read more... )

If Simon had thought that anything could soften the nightmarish hard edges of Wendy-Go-Go's character design, it would have been being rendered in plush form for manufacture on a massive scale.

If he'd ever thought that, today was proving him very, very wrong.

"Adorable, isn't she?" said Mister Radford, arranging the doll's simultaneously squishy and skeletal limbs in front of the packed display case. "I can remember seeing her show back when it first aired."

He gazed into Wendy-Go-Go's hollow eye sockets, and for a moment his face seemed very gaunt.

"Of course, they've updated the character design since then."

Ongoing Verse: Holmes Brothers

( Read more... )

Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

( Read more... )

Some idiot had left a nature documentary playing in the living room, and now the Manticore was having nightmares.

Simon rubbed his face with one hand, the other holding a glass of water under the cold tap. Close proximity to the scorpion-tailed desert monster tended to dry his lungs out, and there was no way he could handle dehydration on top of sleep deprivation. Before leaving the kitchen, he grabbed a hard-boiled egg from the refrigerator.

The manticore was still under the sofa. Simon sat beside it, offering the egg.

"Mongooses can't hurt you," he said. "They're not even real."

Ongoing Verse: Microwave

( Read more... )

It's Tuesday, so today you get a choice between two prompts. Pick one, combine both, pit them against each other - on Tuesday, you choose!

This week, your options are:

UNKIND ONES versus WERD-TV

Today is National Weatherman Day, so let's show WERD-TV's very own Weatherman Wally some love!

Simon toed open the door to the living room and slipped inside without turning on the light. Outside, the January sky was watery grey, filtered through grimy window panes. Inside, a small TV broadcast bursts of bright colours across the threadbare carpet where Harley sat, cross-legged and transfixed and absolutely forbidden from using the remote control.

WERD-TV was airing a rerun of Wendy-Go-Go, a kids' cartoon from the '60s about a plucky cannibalistic spirit of winter battling against the evil Cult of Hygge. The Cult of Hygge's crimes, as far as Simon could tell, consisted mostly of wearing big jumpers, drinking hot chocolate, and laughing too loud. As a jumper-wearer and occasional imbiber of cocoa himself, Simon was inclined to sympathise with them.

Besides, in her white knee-high boots and green minidress, Wendy reminded him uncomfortably of the ForeverWare lady who still blamed him for the destruction of her daughter's piggybank. That did make her deer-skull face, withered limbs and exposed patches of bloody bone less awful in comparison, but seeing her empty eye sockets glaring out at him from his parent's battered television set was still unpleasant.

The episode ended with the erstwhile cultists being tied to a rocket and launched into the freezing vacuum of space. As frost formed on their screaming, bluish faces, Wendy puttered by in a ship designed to look like a VW Beetle and began packaging them up. Frozen dinners for a month, she informed the audience with a wink.

Harley laughed. Simon shivered.

Ongoing Verse: Holmes Brothers

( Read more... )

I've no new crafts of my own to share this year, so instead, I thought I'd spotlight some of the awesome craftworks the talented people in this fandom have created.

Here's an Eerie Indiana clapper board by LittlePigJewellery:

RIP René Auberjonois, terrifier of my childhood and still the best actor ever to play a character with the first name of The. Eerie, Indiana fans just couldn't get enough of you. pic.twitter.com/GREcvbl81a

— Paul Seaton (@PaulSeaton) December 9, 2019

So, when I was 11, I spent a weekend clearing brush with an ax murderer. #Hoosiers

— I Heart Bog Witches (@EvilCEOE) February 9, 2019

He had brain damage. Big scar. After his dad died his mom had remarried. Step dad was abusive. Giant #hoosier brain damaged guy killed him with an axe. My hometown is known in Indiana as a great place to get away with murder, so he was just walking around free.

— I Heart Bog Witches (@EvilCEOE) February 9, 2019

Another detail I missed is he killed his abusive stepdad with an ax before he was 18. In retrospect he's something of an antihero.

— I Heart Bog Witches (@EvilCEOE) October 11, 2019

True Story: my hometown was so easy to get away with murder in that my best friend's dad had been shot in the chest at a gas station by a couple local yokels, and those guys' sons would tease him about getting away with it in high school.

— I Heart Bog Witches (@EvilCEOE) October 11, 2019

Another fun story from my hometown is the time a college student's exsanguinated (his blood was removed) corpse was run into by a farmer's plow and it was linked to a local weather man and one of the morticians but no one was ever charged

— I Heart Bog Witches (@EvilCEOE) October 11, 2019

You grew up in Eerie, Indiana?

— Kerry Reid (@kerryreid) October 12, 2019

Eerie Indiana eyecatch here.

If you've ever seen the Eerie Indiana tie-in books, you might have noticed the website advertised in the back pages: EerieIN.com

Surprising nobody, twenty years later this website no longer exists. However, parts of it are archived at the WayBack Machine.

Sadly, the snapshots from 1999 just show a white page with a parent directory, so we'll never get to see what frames-and-flash masterpiece was originally used to promote Eerie.

However, in 2001 an Eerie Indiana fan named MariaC bought the domain and turned it into the Eerie Examiner:



EERIE-NET

Written by: Maria C. Copyright 2000 Maria C. and eeriein.com

Today the Eerie Examiner is reporting on the most recent craze to sweep through Eerie. Computer technology. A recent survey shows that on average 9 in 10 inhabitants possess a computer and use it regularly to "surf the web". Most worryingly, research reveals that many people are now buying goods via the Internet, rather than spending their money in our fair town. Is this just a passing fad? Or could this techno-mania which has so recently taken hold of the Eerie masses have more sinister long-term implications? Could it lead, for example, to the death of our economy, the town lying derelict and void of commerce as its own citizens waste away in front of their monitors, locked in their own homes? Well, the Eerie Examiner for one wasn’t going to allow the thriving social scene and blooming economy of Eerie rot away under this silicon spell of which the townsfolk seem to have so recently fallen victim. We requested an audience with the mayor, Mr Chisel.

We asked the mayor, "Mr Chisel, are you aware of what is happening in your town? What do you feel the long-term consequences of this new technology could be? Are you worried at all about what this could signify for the economy?"

All these questions were put to the mayor as he sat in his office. sat in his office. He gave no response, but appeared to be concentrating intently on a computer screen in
front of him. Occasionally, he would move the mouse about, or type a few words. After much prompting, he seemed finally to become aware of our presence.

"Hmmm?" Was his reply. Eventually he looked up, and, as if snapping out of a trance, smiled in a confused way. "What can I do for you?" he asked. We had to move quickly, as he was already beginning to become distracted by the computer. Once again, the questions were posed, but it was too late. We'd lost him. Suddenly he looked up, and, turning the screen towards us, asked: "Well, what do you think? Pretty good, huh? Shows a candidate in touch with his voters. A modern man, prepared to move with the times, don't you think?" The screen showed the front page of a web site. "VOTE CHISEL" was the message.

We left the office. It was pretty obvious we weren't going to get far. Behind us came the sound typing and something along the lines of "…if this wont get
me the vote, nothing will…"

So, who could we speak to? The streets were quiet. Everyone would be indoors staring at their screens, doing all their shopping through the web. The situation would become dire. If no one would venture outdoors anymore, who would buy the Examiner? Then it became obvious who could help us. We headed for the World O' Stuff. The store owner, Mr Radford, would be sure to be worried. After all, he represents most of the Eerie economy. We stepped inside. The store was dark and deserted, save for Radford, who stood behind his counter. As we came closer, our horror increased. He stood in the flickering light of a
computer monitor, totally entranced. They'd got to him, too! There was no hope, or so it seemed.

Then we noticed a shadow, working its way along the shelves in one of the corners of the store. It crept along behind the banks of computers for sale, helping itself to the merchandise now that Radford's attention was so utterly distracted. The Examiner felt that it was its civic duty to apprehend what was obviously a thief. The criminal was grabbed by the collar of what appeared to be a trench coat, several sizes too large. As he struggled to get free, scattering cans and miscellaneous goods everywhere, it became all too apparent who we were dealing with. "Oh, its you people is it? What's the matter?
Havin' trouble selling your crummy paper, now everyone's in lobotomy land over these new computers?" The sniggering, grey-haired young man probably needs no introduction as Dash X, Eerie's resident all round unscrupulous person, and fount of all saleable information.

However, here was someone who seemed to be immune to the lure of the computer. And perhaps he knew what was going on with Radford, the one person who should be worried about what was going on.

"I suppose you want to know what the story is with him, over there." Dash said, indicating Radford as he sat motionless in front of the machine. When the Examiner replied in the affirmative, the much expected and infinitely dreaded shrug of the shoulders and "What makes you think I know? Or would want to tell you?" Was the response. One agreement, and much glee on Dash's part later, and we got our explanation.

Radford, being Eerie's instinctive businessman, had seen the sale potential of the computers as soon as the first salesman had arrived in town. As soon as the machines began to sell rapidly, and therefore the number of people coming into his shop decreased, Radford began to worry. However, he soon thought of a solution. He launched the World O' Stuff on the World Wide Web. Now his customers can browse his varied stock from the comfort of their own homes. The interactive store also offers a chat facility (not as popular as Radford had hoped), free e-mail, free delivery of goods to all eerie citizens, plus a 10% discount on your first order. The World O' Stuff was doing a roaring trade. As the real life store gathered dust and grey-haired scavengers, the virtual store thrived.

Suddenly, an alarm sounded, and a bundle of packagbundle of packages dropped down from a trapdoor in the ceiling. "Uh-Oh" said Dash, pulling on a cap. It had "WorldO'Stuff.com" embroidered on the front. "Time for my shift. See y'around. I do the deliveries for the site. It's not badly paid. Maybe when you guys at the Examiner go out of business, you could get a job in the stockroom upstairs, or something." Grinning at us, he grabbed the bundles and pushed his way through the doors.

The Examiner felt that it was time to ask some serious questions. Who was supplying these computers? And why did they seem to have such an addictive quality? Would it last, or gradually lose its novelty value, restoring our citizens back to their habits of old? Would we ever sell another issue? We felt we should consult Professor E. Gore, a man of science. If anyone would be familiar with this kind of technology, it would be him.

The Professor received us in his house. Luckily, he didn't seem to have fallen prey to the influence of the craze. Leading us through to his workroom, he said: "Ah, yes. The computer. A truly wonderful, not to mention powerful, invention. I use it a lot myself. A perfect means of collecting the information I require, and it keeps me in touch with my colleagues all over the world." In fact, this part of his house was overrun by them. Screens and hard drives everywhere we looked. Keyboards, sp Keyboards, speakers, printers, scanners, miles and miles of cable and wire. It was a shocking sight.

We asked the professor how it was that, in spite of all the computers and equipment at his disposal, he wasn't transformed by it, like many of the inhabitants of the town. How was it that he stood in front of us as normal as anyone, rather than staring fixedly at the information scrolling up and down the screen, as if in some kind of hypnotic trance?

The answer he gave was reassuring: "We scientists are at heart a solitary kind of people. We are so used to hiding our discoveries from one another, lest we have our ideas stolen and our glory taken from us, that we all keep pretty much to ourselves. So, we only communicate when we have to. When there is some information we would like, or to arrange car shares to and from awards ceremonies. The rest of the time we spend is alone in our basements, scribbling down our observations, tampering with nature, cooking up weird concoctions and generally playing god. Therefore, we are immune to the trappings of the Internet. We use it, but do not let it use us."

"The Internet is like a virus. The biological virus enters its host cell, and uses its DNA to replicate itself, many millions of times. The copies then burst forth from the host cell, each one free to repeat the process. The Internet finds its way into its way into the new computer and the mind of the operator. The operator can then be inspired to make his own contribution, adding more sites and WebPages which are released onto the web to infect other host computers and users with their influence, and be replicated again. It is alive, it grows."

Worried that Prof. E. Gore would soon go out of our depth, we diverted the conversation from abstract analogies to pose the important question. Will it last?

"That is dependent on if it is a good virus."

Came the reply.

"If it stays the same, the antiviral agent of boredom will soon kill it off, as far as the masses are concerned. However, if it continues to change, to mutate, like the common cold, it will be indestructible. It will hold humanity's attention, and continue to thrive and breed."

So, it was possible that the Internet had come to Eerie to stay. We were faced with some choices. Choices that would determine the future of Eerie. We could launch a massive campaign that would involve us making many web pages, each one full of the same old stuff found on all web pages - use the boredom tactic. Fill up the Internet with lots of boring pages, and the townsfolk would get sick of it. Of course, this would hardly be practical given the size of the web. Or we could make life outdoors in the town more exciting than what exciting than what the Internet had to offer. Again, no mean task. We could sabotage the computers. Not strictly legal. Blackout the town. See previous example. Plus, how would we run our printing presses? Some serious thought was required, and we couldn’t do this alone. We headed back towards the World O' Stuff.

Dash X was inside, collecting his pay from a vacant Radford. "Oh, its you again, is it? Not managed to bring down the whole Internet yet, I see. You people are really losing your touch. I have something you might like to know. Might help you save your precious paper." This was probably going to be expensive. It was.

It transpired that upon signing up for the Internet, Eerie citizens weren't getting the full deal.

"You don't really think that the powers that be want all you Eerie weirdoes in full contact with the outside world, do ya?!"

Letting the "weirdoes" comment pass for a bit rich, considering who it was coming from, we asked Dash to explain.

"Well, you know. Don’t want all the voters getting too much of the world outside… might tempt 'em away from our little town. Too much information can be dangerous. So, there's an… agreement. The citizens get to move with the times. They’ve got their own little World Wide Web, right here in Eerie. The economy doesn’t suffer, no one gets too many fancy ideas and everncy ideas and everything stays pretty much the same as before."

But what about Mayor Chisel, in his office, as transfixed as the citizens themselves?

"You didn’t believe that little act from old Chisel, did you? You people can be real dumb, you know? Didn’t you think it might be a convenient way of not answering your questions? Plus the fact it adds to his cover-up perfectly? It’s a good thing you’ve got me, or you'd all still be thinking Eerie was now a part of the global village, or something. I should ask for a rise."

Just then, a rustling noise made us look up. There in front of us was someone id never seen before. "Very good, kid," he said, smiling in an unpleasant way. Maybe I should employ you. Someone like you could make a real contribution in my line of work. He stepped forward, reams of computer printout covered in figures clinging to him. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Mr Gary Ryans. I'm the man behind the Eerie-net project. I packaged and sold the scheme to your authorities, and oversee the smooth-running of the venture."

Coming closer, he lowered his voice. "You guys might turn out to be a spanner in the works, if you know what I mean."

Catching sight of some of the columns on the printout, they read: 'no. of inhabitants converted', '$ per head profit', 'level of subliminal signals required' were amongst tbr> were amongst them. So that was how this reduced, miniature Internet was holding the attention of the inhabitants! Subliminal signals! Something that small could not survive, otherwise. Mr Gary was moving towards us, when he was distracted by a riot that appeared to be taking place outside. We ran to the doors to look out on a small crowd of townsfolk brandishing placards, banners and burning torches. The blue robes of the Brotherhood of Norm were visible amongst those assembled.

It turned out that the small minority of Eerie citizens who hadn't bought into the new craze, those 1 in 10, were gathered outside the World O' Stuff, rioting against this new evil which threatened their beloved town. It came as no surprise that the Brotherhood of Norm were involved. They had rallied the people, telling them of the despicable danger that the machines posed, then induced them to riot and free their brothers from the claw-like grip of the horror. Of course, the brotherhood were always saying things like that, but this time, with 90% of the population hypnotised by their screens, it seemed more real than ever before.

From outside came the crash of an explosion as a car went up in flames. The mob began to advance towards the World O' Stuff, probably intent on destroying the remainder of Radford's stock of computers. As the crowd flowed in through the doors, Dash saw his chanh saw his chance. "It's him!" he shouted, pointing at Mr Gary, currently too stunned to carry out the latent threat from before "He's behind it all! Get him!" And they did. They dragged him away as he protested and cajoled, offering them a great deal on a computer, with Internet connection thrown in at half price. They took him to the Brotherhood headquarters, and has not been seen since.

The lengths of printout he left behind provided some vital clues to help us dismantle the Eerie-net. On it appeared the names and addresses of all those who had subscribed, how much they had spent, the sites they had visited and the length of time they had spent glued to their screens as the subliminal messages projected from them into their brains kept them there in a permanent trance-like state. Of particular interest was the information pertaining to the whereabouts of the main computer, which supported Eerie-net and gave out the signals straight into the subconscious minds of all those users.

It turned out to be Mayor Chisel's computer. Going to his office, we found him in the same state as before. We created a decoy by telling him that Werd TV were downstairs and that they requested an interview about how he managed to be such a good mayor, and what benefits he offered Eerie. It was to be broadcast throughout five different states. He seemed to snap out of his trance ef his trance extremely quickly and was gone from the room in a second. Disabling the signal was the work of a moment, but shutting down Eerie-net was not so easy. In the end we had to leave it before the mayor got back, hoping that what Professor E. Gore had said about the net dying out through lack of attention was true.

In fact, within a week, Eerie-net was closed due to lack of interest. People were seen out in the streets again, and in the public buildings. Eerie-net was just a distant, and hopefully not to be repeated, memory. The Eerie Examiner sold copies. Everything is back as it should be in Eerie, Indiana.

By Maria. Head reporter for The Eerie Examiner.