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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcER3o9cSp7ImA9WhRUFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833</id><updated>2012-01-25T19:16:46.469-05:00</updated><title>FEAR STREET</title><subtitle type="html">Home of the Driest Lips In America</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>164</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/FearStreet" /><feedburner:info uri="fearstreet" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0ANQ34yeip7ImA9WhRWGUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-179582210257464482</id><published>2012-01-07T10:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-07T10:56:32.092-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-07T10:56:32.092-05:00</app:edited><title>~~Happy 100th Birthday, Charles Addams~~</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K89JHzwL2mg/Twhq_ZgBJsI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/glJpHIip9Qc/s1600/01-The_Addams_Family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="243" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K89JHzwL2mg/Twhq_ZgBJsI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/glJpHIip9Qc/s320/01-The_Addams_Family.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
We all thank you for the world's ookiest family.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-179582210257464482?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/59aY1Zn1wyApLIwcyTOV5lJezXQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/59aY1Zn1wyApLIwcyTOV5lJezXQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/59aY1Zn1wyApLIwcyTOV5lJezXQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/59aY1Zn1wyApLIwcyTOV5lJezXQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/3AzvuWocFDA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/179582210257464482/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=179582210257464482&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/179582210257464482?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/179582210257464482?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/3AzvuWocFDA/happy-100th-birthday-charles-addams.html" title="~~Happy 100th Birthday, Charles Addams~~" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K89JHzwL2mg/Twhq_ZgBJsI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/glJpHIip9Qc/s72-c/01-The_Addams_Family.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2012/01/happy-100th-birthday-charles-addams.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A08CRn4_eyp7ImA9WhRWGE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-8678931976450976796</id><published>2012-01-06T03:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T03:51:07.043-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-06T03:51:07.043-05:00</app:edited><title>Giveaway @ AEIOU...and sometimes why</title><content type="html">Because he is awesome, the proprietor of &lt;a href="http://www.aeiouwhy.blogspot.com/"&gt;AEIOU...and sometimes why&lt;/a&gt; is giving away some spoooooooky cards on his blog. It's easy to enter so, like, do it: &lt;a href="http://aeiouwhy.blogspot.com/2012/01/monsterwax-spookshow-cards-contest.html"&gt;Monsterwax Spookshow Cards &amp;amp; Giveaway&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-8678931976450976796?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/W9gc-HxmmzXvk6LdakQp4YXSpm4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/W9gc-HxmmzXvk6LdakQp4YXSpm4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/W9gc-HxmmzXvk6LdakQp4YXSpm4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/W9gc-HxmmzXvk6LdakQp4YXSpm4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/ov9-ht9DWW8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/8678931976450976796/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=8678931976450976796&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/8678931976450976796?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/8678931976450976796?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/ov9-ht9DWW8/giveaway-aeiouand-sometimes-why.html" title="Giveaway @ AEIOU...and sometimes why" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2012/01/giveaway-aeiouand-sometimes-why.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEACQ3o9cSp7ImA9WhRWFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-4458075890023305208</id><published>2012-01-01T01:03:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-02T03:26:02.469-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-02T03:26:02.469-05:00</app:edited><title>2012 Is Here...</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://www.thedawgpound.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/happy_new_year_skeleton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: magenta;"&gt;The new year is only an hour old and I'm already sick of it. But I hope YOU are having a happy one! Since it's been predicted that we'll all be dead at the end of this year, there's no reason to make any other resolution than to get through as many Fear Street novels as possible. I'd like to finish the series before I'm reduced to worm food. So expect to be seeing more "reviews" around here. I'm pushing myself to stick to that! In the name of R.L. Stine, I WILL WRITE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-4458075890023305208?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aeSPTdUA5rXL7Vasn31EW2quyZ4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aeSPTdUA5rXL7Vasn31EW2quyZ4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aeSPTdUA5rXL7Vasn31EW2quyZ4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aeSPTdUA5rXL7Vasn31EW2quyZ4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/CcqKusE5VU0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/4458075890023305208/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=4458075890023305208&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/4458075890023305208?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/4458075890023305208?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/CcqKusE5VU0/2012-is-here.html" title="2012 Is Here..." /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2012/01/2012-is-here.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcDQ3g-fSp7ImA9WhRXF08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-1204818097166520770</id><published>2011-12-24T06:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-24T06:44:32.655-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-24T06:44:32.655-05:00</app:edited><title>~*Merry Christmas*~</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3-X5kiNFnYk/TvW6d7yB33I/AAAAAAAAAaw/25R_6vChw0w/s1600/nightmare.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3-X5kiNFnYk/TvW6d7yB33I/AAAAAAAAAaw/25R_6vChw0w/s320/nightmare.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i style="color: red;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;'Twas a long time ago, longer now than it seems in a place perhaps  you've seen in your dreams. For the story you're about to be told began  with the holiday worlds of auld. Now you've probably wondered where  holidays come from. If you haven't I'd say it's time you begun. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-1204818097166520770?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kfWNtN0xdeEO9DR1BRWJZC3eXnY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kfWNtN0xdeEO9DR1BRWJZC3eXnY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kfWNtN0xdeEO9DR1BRWJZC3eXnY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kfWNtN0xdeEO9DR1BRWJZC3eXnY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/iY44E_wPzWk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/1204818097166520770/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=1204818097166520770&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/1204818097166520770?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/1204818097166520770?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/iY44E_wPzWk/merry-christmas.html" title="~*Merry Christmas*~" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3-X5kiNFnYk/TvW6d7yB33I/AAAAAAAAAaw/25R_6vChw0w/s72-c/nightmare.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/12/merry-christmas.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkMEQ3Y6fSp7ImA9WhRQFUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-4738201682625139353</id><published>2011-12-10T17:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-10T17:00:02.815-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-10T17:00:02.815-05:00</app:edited><title>More Fear</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/fear-street"&gt;Fear Street Tumblr&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Homemade Fear Street covers. Sexy photos of R.L. Stine. People who love Fear Street. This is where you should be spending your time. When you're not spending it here, of course. OF COURSE! God, I'm pathetic...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-4738201682625139353?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NrcS07nAwjEMLr7lHmeuqebFQV4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NrcS07nAwjEMLr7lHmeuqebFQV4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NrcS07nAwjEMLr7lHmeuqebFQV4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NrcS07nAwjEMLr7lHmeuqebFQV4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/b4CzIHXFR9Y" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/4738201682625139353/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=4738201682625139353&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/4738201682625139353?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/4738201682625139353?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/b4CzIHXFR9Y/more-fear.html" title="More Fear" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/12/more-fear.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkQGRXszfip7ImA9WhRREkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-3526221524174786296</id><published>2011-11-26T00:11:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-26T00:12:04.586-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-26T00:12:04.586-05:00</app:edited><title>It's My Birthday!</title><content type="html">There is no other reason for this post than to announce that it is my birthday and the only thing of note that I am doing is FINISHING A POST FOR THIS BLOG ("The Mind Reader"--don't forget it!).&amp;nbsp;I am officially a madwoman.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E5DuaDcuIoY/S8vSr8G7SKI/AAAAAAAACRk/UjFEt861mXA/s1600/105_TG_eya_floyd_skeleton_birthday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" hda="true" height="320px" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E5DuaDcuIoY/S8vSr8G7SKI/AAAAAAAACRk/UjFEt861mXA/s320/105_TG_eya_floyd_skeleton_birthday.jpg" width="238px" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;This is all of us, enjoying the cake of FEAR.&lt;/span&gt;﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-3526221524174786296?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BSiFxtAOBXkS8LXpy-fl2LWWvSg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BSiFxtAOBXkS8LXpy-fl2LWWvSg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BSiFxtAOBXkS8LXpy-fl2LWWvSg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BSiFxtAOBXkS8LXpy-fl2LWWvSg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/cGldvnQVg8E" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/3526221524174786296/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=3526221524174786296&amp;isPopup=true" title="10 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/3526221524174786296?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/3526221524174786296?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/cGldvnQVg8E/its-my-birthday.html" title="It's My Birthday!" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E5DuaDcuIoY/S8vSr8G7SKI/AAAAAAAACRk/UjFEt861mXA/s72-c/105_TG_eya_floyd_skeleton_birthday.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>10</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/11/its-my-birthday.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkMGR3YyeSp7ImA9WhRREUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-4972403919513893356</id><published>2011-11-24T16:32:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-24T16:33:46.891-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-24T16:33:46.891-05:00</app:edited><title>Happy Thanksgiving, You Turkeys</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8qS-xBC2Wd8/Ts64MbQe3qI/AAAAAAAAAak/rAW6lrLTkuQ/s1600/untitled.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" hda="true" height="246px" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8qS-xBC2Wd8/Ts64MbQe3qI/AAAAAAAAAak/rAW6lrLTkuQ/s320/untitled.bmp" width="320px" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-4972403919513893356?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4fk4Vs2AxqOxxqlMD8Erm7fzkxc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4fk4Vs2AxqOxxqlMD8Erm7fzkxc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4fk4Vs2AxqOxxqlMD8Erm7fzkxc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4fk4Vs2AxqOxxqlMD8Erm7fzkxc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/ZXI_2WWFYq8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/4972403919513893356/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=4972403919513893356&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/4972403919513893356?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/4972403919513893356?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/ZXI_2WWFYq8/happy-thanksgiving-you-turkeys.html" title="Happy Thanksgiving, You Turkeys" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8qS-xBC2Wd8/Ts64MbQe3qI/AAAAAAAAAak/rAW6lrLTkuQ/s72-c/untitled.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/11/happy-thanksgiving-you-turkeys.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE8ESHwycSp7ImA9WhRSEkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-1145660217936152894</id><published>2011-11-14T02:46:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-14T02:46:49.299-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-14T02:46:49.299-05:00</app:edited><title>A Mostly Modest Plea</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Dear Fear Heads,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I'm not sure how many of you are familiar with PaperBackSwap, but&amp;nbsp;it's the site where I've gotten most of the Fear Street books I own (too damn many). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a alt="PaperBackSwap - Swap your used paperback books with other club members." href="http://www.paperbackswap.com/index.php?n=7&amp;amp;r_by=amber_rose365%40hotmail.com"&gt;&lt;img height="125" src="http://www.paperbackswap.com/images/icons/weblog_icon_125_125_1.gif" width="125" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;If you click the picture above, it will direct you to the site. And if you click that picture, get directed to the site, and decide to create an account while you are there, I receive one credit for recommending you. For the first ten books you post (if you indeed have any extra books lying around that you don't want anymore), you receive two credits that can go&amp;nbsp;toward any two books you want (the selection is pretty good). The site explains the entire deal in detail. But my point (and I think I have one...probably) is that I'm getting extremely low on my Fear book supply which is positively HORRIFYING and if I could get a couple of credits on the site, I could get some more Fear Street. If I had more than 68 cents (yes, 68 freaking cents!) in my bank account right now, I'd be getting on the matter myself. But...dude...68 cents.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Ok, before this sounds anymore "BOOOOO HOOOOOO!!!" I'll end this. It's more than cool if no-one decides to do this, but I thought I'd throw it out there. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"The Mind Reader" will be coming quite soon. I know you'll be waiting with bated breath...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-1145660217936152894?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uxYd3iv_dGIfTAlUNunLyVjSUSM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uxYd3iv_dGIfTAlUNunLyVjSUSM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uxYd3iv_dGIfTAlUNunLyVjSUSM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uxYd3iv_dGIfTAlUNunLyVjSUSM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/5M1gjCwP9qs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/1145660217936152894/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=1145660217936152894&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/1145660217936152894?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/1145660217936152894?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/5M1gjCwP9qs/mostly-modest-plea.html" title="A Mostly Modest Plea" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/11/mostly-modest-plea.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0YGRn0yeSp7ImA9WhRSEkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-6273813132714699581</id><published>2011-11-07T15:41:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-14T02:18:47.391-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-14T02:18:47.391-05:00</app:edited><title>The New Boy</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i25.tinypic.com/otk8ww.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://i25.tinypic.com/otk8ww.jpg" width="196" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Book Description&lt;/u&gt;:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;What a hunk! When handsome, mysterious Ross Gabriel comes to Shadyside High, all the girls want to date him...even the ones who already have boyfriends! Janie, Eve, and Faith go so far as to make a bet...which one of them will he go out with first? But then the murders begin and it starts to look like dating Ross means flirting with a gruesome and untimely death. Will Janie's dream date with Ross turn out to be the night of her life? Or the night of her death?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;My Description&lt;/u&gt;:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Two weeks before the first murder occurs, Janie spots Ross for the first time. His athletic body, curly hair, and broooooooding eyes make her a wee bit hot beneath the collar (and panties). She sees Corky Corcoran and Kimmy Bass (everybody's "favorite" cheerleaders) giggling and shoving their way down the hall. This has nothing to do with anything. It's just a random observation which makes me fairly certain that Kimmy's crimped black hair wrote this book. Anyway, Janie is wondering where Faith and Eve are. The three girls were in charge of the committee for the most recent school dance and need to meet with Mr. Hernandez, the new principal, to turn over the money they earned from ticket sales and such. Little Janie doesn't like thinking about the dance, though, because her gorgeous friends had dates and she was lonely. She walks to the office to see if the girls are already there, but the place is empty. Until Eve comes bursting in with BIG news: "Did you hear the news? Deena Martinson broke up with Gary Brandt!" Why is this so exciting? Gary Brandt is a filthy whore who has a new woman every week and Deena Martinson is about as interesting as a block of wood. The bubbly mood vanishes when the two realize the money is missing. It turns out to be an incredibly stupid joke on the gullible Janie. HAHAHAHAHA! Fuck. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Janie, Eve, and Faith (whom the other two ran into in the hall as they were rushing to "find" the money that was in "Faith's" "bag" "the whole time") begin walking back to the office when Janie spots the new boy with blood dripping down his arm. The three girls run to him and he tells them he cut his arm on the fence beside the parking lot as he was helping a girl free her bike. Your story smells like rotten eggs, pretty boy. Don't play with me! I read the back of the book, you murderer!! Uh, anyway, he introduces himself as Ross Gabriel and Faith and Eve jump to guide him to the nurse's office, ignoring Janie who tells them she'll take the money to the office. "It's not fair," she muttered to herself. "I saw him first." Poor little Janie. I guess this would be the time to mention how these girls look (because that's why Janie feels so inferior to the other two). Eve has long luscious black hair and olive eyes. Faith has long luscious blond hair and blue eyes. Janie is short, blond, thin, and kind of shy. I have a soft spot for you, Janie. Everybody ignores me, too! *SOB*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Janie is counting the money when Faith and Eve walk into the office carrying on about how cute Ross is. Janie says she saw him first, but Faith and Eve couldn't possibly care any less. The two start arguing about their shitty boyfriends until Janie tells them they need to help her stack and band the money before Hernandez shows up. Ian and Paul (Eve and Faith's boyfriends) pop up out of nowhere and pretend to shove the money into their pockets. This starts plenty of gag-worthy play fighting between the boys and their girls. The door opens just as Paul throws a a banded stack which ends up hitting Mr. Hernandez in the forehead. He has a sense of humor about it, though, and no-one gets in trouble. Sad, isn't it? Paul said he stopped by to give the girls the key to the filing cabinet where the dance committee keeps its stuff. Then the boys leave along with Mr. Hernandez...even though I assume he's supposed to be putting the money in a safe spot. Fool.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Later, the girls come back to the office to give Hernandez the grand total ($1,241.65) but he's on the phone. JUST TAKE THE DAMN MONEY. He hangs up a few minutes later, but Janie nor the other girls can remember the stinking total so Janie runs back to the filing cabinet where she wrote down the total. She's shocked to find the money missing. Oopsy daisy! (I thought the whole point was to give Hernandez the money so he could put it in a safe or something? I guess I don't understand the intricacies of this book's plot). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Janie is totally depressed about the stolen bills. So depressed she can't even do her homework that night so she tells her parents that she's going out and drives to Faith's house where stupid Paul is also hanging out. Janie brings up the money and she notices Paul and Faith acing pretty shifty at the mention of it. THIEVES! Or not. Or yes? Only time (and about a hundred more pages) will tell. Then Janie decides to reminisce about the time she, Faith, and Eve broke into one of the hovels on Fear Street and got caught by the cops. Janie was relieved because she really didn't want to find ghosts or anything in the house. Two words, Janie: FEAR RATS. Ghosts don't gnaw upon your soul like those damn Fear rats. (The things mine eyes have seen!) What was I saying? Oh yeah. The subject turns to Ross. Paul thinks he's a stuck up jerk, Faith thinks he's cute, and, as usual, no-one cares what Janie thinks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Janie hangs around after Paul leaves and Faith asks "So are you going to ask Ross out, or am I?" Janie is shocked because Faith already has the talking turd known as Paul, but Faith says he never has to know. Faith decides to be cruel and starts a bet: whoever goes out with Ross first gets $10. Eve calls a split second later and Faith gets her in on it, too. Janie feels bad because she's certain she'll lose, but Faith doesn't notice because Faith is a bitch. There. I said it. Seriously, Faith (and Eve, too) shows so little regard for Janie's feelings, it's hard to believe they're friends. As Janie prepares to leave, she asks Faith why she and Paul were acting so weird. Faith blames it on Janie: "Well, Janie, it's just that--uh...Paul and I know that it was you who stole the dance money." Oh HELL no! "April fool. I tried, but I couldn't keep a straight face." I hate you, Faith.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;In chemistry class the next afternoon, Janie gets a chance to work with Ross. Ross says they'll do great because he did this stuff in 7th grade and it's just "Mickey Mouse stuff" to him now. You're dangerously close to arrogant ass territory, sir. But Ross sets up camp there when he combines two chemicals to make a "stink bomb" that makes the room reek of rotten eggs. The teacher removes the smelly tubes and the class cheers for Ross's stupidity. He tells Janie he likes to mess with people which she thinks is an odd thing to say, but oh well! She wonders if she should ask him out, but just as she starts to say something, he freaks out at the sight of this blond girl in the hall and runs away. Janie has no idea who the girl is, but she was staring hard at Ross. Possibly because he was acting like someone who had never seen a member of the opposite sex before? Eve comes running up to Janie a moment later: "Guess what--I win! I have a date with Ross Friday night!" Good luck with that...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;It's now Friday night and Janie and Faith are talking about Ross and Eve and how jealous they are of her. Janie mentions that Eve borrowed her blue blazer and Faith says "And she's wearing those sexy red denims she saves for special occasions." Sexy. Red. Denims. Are you kidding me? No, really, is that a joke? Sexy red denims?! DENIMS! Faith changes the subject to something more serious: she thinks her parents are going to seperate because they're rarely at home at the same time and when they are, they spend too much time in their room talking. Faith, you really are an unbelievable idiot. She goes on to say she's pissed at Paul because he asked her for $300 for a new transmission for his car (net value: $2.30) and she's sure he only dates her for her riches. It ain't for your brains, smart one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Meanwhile, Eve and Ross are sitting in his Civic at the edge of the Fear Street woods. Are we in for some dry lipped action? "He reached across the seat, pulled Eve to him, and kissed her. His lips felt dry and hot against hers." It never fails. Ross pulls away and says he usually doesn't make moves on a girl on the first date. (No, he just kills them.) He says they should take a walk, but Eve doesn't want to because this is the Fear Street woods and those trees are just not right. Ross doesn't want to hear the horrible stories about Fear Street because he LIVES there so he's probably heard the stories already from every human being (and a few talking dogs) within a 50 mile radius. He convinces her to take a walk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;On Saturday morning, a very worried Ian calls Janie. He says Eve never came home last night. Her parents have already called the police and the sexy red denim store to tell them their best customer may not be returning. Ian wants to come over and Janie says ok because he's whining like a baby. She calls Faith, but there's no answer so she calls Eve's house and talks to her sobbing mother who informs her that Ross is missing, too. I bet. Ian arrives and he and Janie go driving around town while Ian grills her about what she knows. She insists she knows nothing and Ian backs off. They go by Fear Street woods where Janie spots Eve's fly riddled corpse. Her skull is partially caved in and half buried in mud. Janie screams at Ian that they need to call the police, but neither of them is moving too quickly. Ian is in shock and Janie is too busy watching the pretty pretty flies buzz all over her dead friend's face.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Eventually they call for help and the cops show up. Ian tells Janie he believes Eve was killed because Eve stole the dance money and somebody wanted it. Then Janie tells him about Eve's date with Ross and Ian loses it. Janie takes away his car keys so he can't do anything crazy and when he demands them back, she throws them in the weeds. Later, they're dragged down to the police station where they see Ross. He tells them he was out of town with his parents this morning and just got back. He claims he took Eve home at 11 PM. Ian thinks he's a liar. And he is! I read the back of the book, murderer!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;On Sunday afternoon, Janie meets Faith at Pete's Pizza, the perfect place to mourn your dead friend. Nothing says 'Rest In Peace' like a greasy pepperoni. The girls talk about the fact that Eve couldn't have stolen the dance money because she was so very honest. Then Ross shows up and immediately becomes infuriated because he believes Faith thinks he killed Eve. Faith spots Paul and Ian outside and goes to join them, leaving Janie alone with Ross. She asks Ross why he went out with Eve and he says she told him all about the stupid bet and he agreed to go out with her so they could split the $20 she'd win. He says he can't believe something like this happened, not after what happened in New Brighton (his old town). Guess they experienced an unexplained rash of murders that only ended when you finally decided to leave. Murderer! Out in the mall (was Pete's Pizza always in the mall? Does it move from book to book?) Faith, Ian, and Paul are waiting. They all believe Ross slaughtered Eve, but the focus soon turns to Paul's new transmission and how he got the money for it. WHO CARES?! There's a murderer on the loose!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;On Monday night, Ross shows up at Janie's house in need of help with his French homework because he heard Janie is good at French. Afterward, he starts rubbing her arm and invites her to get something to eat with him. She agrees and suggests a place in the Old Village so no-one she knows will see her out with a murderer. But Ross's car runs out of gas about a mile from Janie's house and she's suddenly alone in the dark with a murderer who has murder in his eyes and even more murder in his heart. He says they need gas and he'll push the car while she steers. They reach a nearby gas station where Janie pays because Ross "forgot" his wallet. He says he should go by his house and try to find his wallet because he shouldn't be driving without his license. Janie is shocked he lives on Fear Street. Of course she is. Ross finds his wallet and they decide to go to White Castle for burgers because it's getting late and Janie wants to go home before Ross decides to decapitate her. Later, he takes Janie home where they make out in the car for a moment before parting ways. Janie goes inside and realizes she still has Ross's French textbook and decides she should really return it RIGHT NOW. She drives to Ross's house, but some old lady answers the door and says no-one named Ross Gabriel lives there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;The next day, Janie is determined to find out the truth about Ross before she falls in love any further. Gross. Faith doesn't think it's such a good idea for Janie to be spending so much time with Ross. She's heard plenty of rumors. Plus, he's a murderer. She mentions a girl named Jordan Blye, the blond that Ross freaked out at the sight of. She just transferred from Ross's old high school and knows plenty about him. Before Faith can say more, Paul interrupts. Apparently Ross has been arrested for MURDER! Except Paul is an idiot and Ross wasn't arrested at all. Janie spots him across the cafeteria and runs to him. She asks him about the house and the old lady and he claims that's his senile grandmother who doesn't know who he is half the time. He goes on to say he was at the police station this morning because the cops wanted to know about the missing dance money. They searched Eve's place, but found no trace and her parents' bank account is empty so they automatically turned to Ross. Which makes not much sense at all. Then he says he has something for her. It's a blue scarf that looks an awfully lot like the one Eve was wearing the night she was killed. Janie runs away and avoids Ross for the rest of the day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;After school, Janie sees Paul and Faith fighting in the student parking lot, but she doesn't intervene because violence is never very serious. Faith runs off and Paul drives away. That night, Janie goes to the mall and talks with Ian at the Doughnut Hole where he works. Then she goes home and calls Faith who has something to tell her about Ross. She tells Janie to wait while she takes another call. When she comes back on the line, she begs Janie to come over. When Janie arrives at Faith's house, the door is ajar. RUN. She goes inside and calls to Faith, but receives no answer. RUN. She goes into the den where she finds Faith who has been bludgeoned with a fireplace poker. RUN. She calls 911 and gives her info to the nice lady. Then she hears footsteps and tells the lady that she thinks the murderer is still around. RUN. The lady tells her to get out of the house. RUN!!! But it's too late. Someone is standing in the doorway...it's Ian. He says Faith called him a little earlier because she had something to tell him about Ross. He seems as upset as Janie, but you never know...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Three days after Faith's funeral, Janie gets a chance to talk to Jordan Blye. As the girls walk through the park, Jordan says that Ross's real name is Robert Kingston, but he changed it when he moved...after he killed his girlfriend. Her name was Karen Anders and Ross was never convicted of her murder because he had an alibi (he was off murdering some other girl so he couldn't have killed Karen) but everyone at school knew it was him. He and his parents moved to Shadyside so he could kill and kill again and no-one could stop him because the cops are stupid.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;As Janie is walking home, it begins pouring rain. Ross pops up out of nowhere and tells Janie to get in his car. She refuses and he gets angry. He says he just wants to talk and proves this by shoving her into a wall. She says she'll meet him at Pete's Pizza at 8 PM and he finally leaves. At home, Janie reads a note from her mom stating that she and Dad will be back later. The phone happens to be dead because that's creepy. At 8:30 PM, someone knocks on the door. It's Ross and he isn't too happy she broke their date. He pulls out the scarf and says Janie left it in his car and he wanted to return it. Then he asks what he did wrong. He starts telling her about what happened in his past. He says he found Karen's corpse, but he didn't kill her. Rumors started and he and his family moved to get away from it. He also denies killing Eve and Faith. Janie responds by fleeing the house, but she only makes it to the driveway where Ross tackles her to the ground and says he won't let her up until she tells him why she doesn't believe him. He disappears when her parents pull into the driveway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Janie spends the next day worrying about seeing Ross. She manages to avoid him until after school when he catches up to her. Luckily (or not) she comes across Paul and a few of his friends. Paul tells Ross to back off and then punches him in the gut. Janie runs to the park and cries. Eventually she calms down, remembers that she left her backpack in the hall, and decides to go back for it. The back door is still open so she slips inside, but doesn't find her backpack where she left it. She starts walking toward the office and overhears Mr. Hernandez talking to Ross about violence. Janie dives inside a closet to avoid being seen. Because that's perfectly logical. She thinks she feels damp hair brushing over her face so she panics and starts screaming and pounding on the door, but she can't get out. A second later, the door bursts open and the hair? Just a damp, dirty mop.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;When Janie recovers from her horrifying experience and gets home, Ian calls and tells her to come over because he has proof that Ross killed Eve and Faith. Ian drives Janie to Fear Street woods. Oh shit. He takes a baseball bat out of the trunk, shows her the dried blood on it, and says "I killed her [Eve]! Here's the proof!" Well, kids, it appears I judged Ross too harshly (it was great fun while it lasted) when I should've been casting my judgemental eye on IAN all along. You're a slippery little eel, Ian. Now for the ridiculous motive. Eve stole the dance money for Ian so he could pay for a bit of college. But she felt guilty and wanted to return it so he killed her. Oh, and he saw she and Ross making out which gave him further incentive to murder her and also make people believe Ross was the killer. Faith suspected something so she too had to die. Before Ian can cast Janie from this life, Ross shows up and immediately gets smacked in the head with the bat. But he's back up a minute later and Ian is soon pinned to the ground. Janie runs to call the police and decides Ross is ok after all even though she's been accusing him of being a cold blooded murderer and he probably hates her now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Conclusion? All that for $1,241.65? He can't even GO to college now because he'll be behind bars for the rest of his life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Next time: "The Mind Reader" A book called The Mind Reader...that really has nothing at all to do with a mind reader. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-6273813132714699581?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LUJidzq2DhpoRAzDoz7QuS5DslI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LUJidzq2DhpoRAzDoz7QuS5DslI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LUJidzq2DhpoRAzDoz7QuS5DslI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LUJidzq2DhpoRAzDoz7QuS5DslI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/hYzYpXyLAEU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/6273813132714699581/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=6273813132714699581&amp;isPopup=true" title="12 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/6273813132714699581?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/6273813132714699581?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/hYzYpXyLAEU/new-boy.html" title="The New Boy" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://i25.tinypic.com/otk8ww_th.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>12</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/11/new-boy.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0cCRH0zeip7ImA9WhRTE0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-76489370309376131</id><published>2011-11-03T20:04:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-11-03T20:04:25.382-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-03T20:04:25.382-04:00</app:edited><title>GRRRRR</title><content type="html">I have a post ready for "The New Boy" but I can't access it on the disc I have it saved to. I don't currently have Internet access at home, but I will on MONDAY so hang in there. I know you're DYING to know what happens in this Pulitzer prize winning novel of love and loss. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_zYcrnYf6RTM/SGCIeFdCMJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/HS_FPlK355c/s320/The+New+Boy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_zYcrnYf6RTM/SGCIeFdCMJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/HS_FPlK355c/s320/The+New+Boy.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;A hunk of trouble indeed.﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-76489370309376131?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7fNPaK8i8i8h22aKuBfRcjNSgC8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7fNPaK8i8i8h22aKuBfRcjNSgC8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7fNPaK8i8i8h22aKuBfRcjNSgC8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7fNPaK8i8i8h22aKuBfRcjNSgC8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/B8_mquQoUPI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/76489370309376131/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=76489370309376131&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/76489370309376131?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/76489370309376131?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/B8_mquQoUPI/grrrrr.html" title="GRRRRR" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://bp0.blogger.com/_zYcrnYf6RTM/SGCIeFdCMJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/HS_FPlK355c/s72-c/The+New+Boy.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/11/grrrrr.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkIMQng6cCp7ImA9WhRTEEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-5673525579983853874</id><published>2011-10-31T15:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-31T15:49:43.618-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-31T15:49:43.618-04:00</app:edited><title>~ HAPPY HALLOWEEN! ~</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.zwani.com/graphics/halloween/images/1rtrickortreat.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.zwani.com/graphics/halloween/images/1rtrickortreat.gif" width="316" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: orange;"&gt;Also: happy belated birthday (October 8) to the love of all our lives, R.L. Stine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-5673525579983853874?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3wd459DRN_SZoqvYFKpqbVQRuhU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3wd459DRN_SZoqvYFKpqbVQRuhU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3wd459DRN_SZoqvYFKpqbVQRuhU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3wd459DRN_SZoqvYFKpqbVQRuhU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/MIHbD8Z8IeI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/5673525579983853874/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=5673525579983853874&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/5673525579983853874?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/5673525579983853874?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/MIHbD8Z8IeI/happy-halloween.html" title="~ HAPPY HALLOWEEN! ~" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/10/happy-halloween.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYGSHY9cSp7ImA9WhdaFEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-8026063281640376520</id><published>2011-10-24T12:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-24T12:18:49.869-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-24T12:18:49.869-04:00</app:edited><title>Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-71ZdetwAvUk/TjxQob34SRI/AAAAAAAAAas/swxiGgZQx78/s1600/Miss-Peregrines-Home-for-Peculiar-Children.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-71ZdetwAvUk/TjxQob34SRI/AAAAAAAAAas/swxiGgZQx78/s400/Miss-Peregrines-Home-for-Peculiar-Children.jpg" width="260" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Truly, the perfect book for Halloween. A spooky story interspersed with photos of the strange and macabre variety. The best part about the photos in particular is they are authentic. Old creepy pictures = awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-8026063281640376520?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Wmkx_ItFkRi8b3jtgkLUS3Dt7tA/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Wmkx_ItFkRi8b3jtgkLUS3Dt7tA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Wmkx_ItFkRi8b3jtgkLUS3Dt7tA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Wmkx_ItFkRi8b3jtgkLUS3Dt7tA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/R6r2fQK9aKc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/8026063281640376520/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=8026063281640376520&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/8026063281640376520?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/8026063281640376520?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/R6r2fQK9aKc/miss-peregrines-home-for-peculiar.html" title="Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-71ZdetwAvUk/TjxQob34SRI/AAAAAAAAAas/swxiGgZQx78/s72-c/Miss-Peregrines-Home-for-Peculiar-Children.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/10/miss-peregrines-home-for-peculiar.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4CQns_fyp7ImA9WhdbGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-5501550679461099389</id><published>2011-10-17T15:45:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-18T02:06:03.547-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-18T02:06:03.547-04:00</app:edited><title>I Was A Pre-Pubescent Egg Monster</title><content type="html">Just a quick tidbit: I found a diary entry from when I was about 9 or so in which I wrote that I was currently reading &lt;em&gt;Egg Monsters From Mars&lt;/em&gt; (one of the more illustrious Goosebumps books) and how it was NON FICTION. I obviously knew something no-one else knew. That, or I was just plain stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 316px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 461px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://images.wikia.com/goosebumps/images/1/14/N31935.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Wasn't I a doll? Watch me leak! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-5501550679461099389?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mO6sn--3lJifQfqb_IujPrLVni4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mO6sn--3lJifQfqb_IujPrLVni4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mO6sn--3lJifQfqb_IujPrLVni4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mO6sn--3lJifQfqb_IujPrLVni4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/BVMwJTPVm1U" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/5501550679461099389/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=5501550679461099389&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/5501550679461099389?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/5501550679461099389?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/BVMwJTPVm1U/i-was-pre-pubescent-egg-monster.html" title="I Was A Pre-Pubescent Egg Monster" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-was-pre-pubescent-egg-monster.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0UER34yfip7ImA9WhdbGE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-1164885695896530717</id><published>2011-10-17T00:35:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-17T01:26:46.096-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-17T01:26:46.096-04:00</app:edited><title>I Love Bela Lugosi</title><content type="html">Because he's awesome. That's why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MZaY02e4Dq4/TOxcKGfgvOI/AAAAAAAAADw/x45paOrTfYY/s1600/dracula.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 325px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MZaY02e4Dq4/TOxcKGfgvOI/AAAAAAAAADw/x45paOrTfYY/s1600/dracula.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://towerweb.net/vampires/pics/BelaLugosi02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 290px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 478px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://towerweb.net/vampires/pics/BelaLugosi02.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.vampyres-online.com/images/alt_bela_lugosi_big.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 356px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 450px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.vampyres-online.com/images/alt_bela_lugosi_big.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://image2.findagrave.com/photos250/photos/2003/183/7650039_1057242756.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 322px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://image2.findagrave.com/photos250/photos/2003/183/7650039_1057242756.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lk18tfImFi1qf83cro1_400.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lk18tfImFi1qf83cro1_400.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, at one point Dracula was Jesus.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-1164885695896530717?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BY-XQdjOmzzhLEBSTbSOWc26l7Y/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BY-XQdjOmzzhLEBSTbSOWc26l7Y/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BY-XQdjOmzzhLEBSTbSOWc26l7Y/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BY-XQdjOmzzhLEBSTbSOWc26l7Y/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/K-FUrS9ZNUM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/1164885695896530717/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=1164885695896530717&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/1164885695896530717?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/1164885695896530717?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/K-FUrS9ZNUM/i-love-bela-lugosi.html" title="I Love Bela Lugosi" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MZaY02e4Dq4/TOxcKGfgvOI/AAAAAAAAADw/x45paOrTfYY/s72-c/dracula.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-love-bela-lugosi.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEQGSHcyeyp7ImA9WhdbFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-2727316695521642123</id><published>2011-10-12T15:50:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-12T17:52:09.993-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-12T17:52:09.993-04:00</app:edited><title>Haunted</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://images.paraorkut.com/img/pics/images/d/dark_haunted_house-14130.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 366px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 550px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://images.paraorkut.com/img/pics/images/d/dark_haunted_house-14130.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"The Haunting of Hill House"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Shirley Jackson&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-2727316695521642123?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/273KCYqGGfg4Bgy4-lB1UYG0MXU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/273KCYqGGfg4Bgy4-lB1UYG0MXU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/273KCYqGGfg4Bgy4-lB1UYG0MXU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/273KCYqGGfg4Bgy4-lB1UYG0MXU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/-7X-tDdbLIk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/2727316695521642123/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=2727316695521642123&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/2727316695521642123?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/2727316695521642123?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/-7X-tDdbLIk/haunted.html" title="Haunted" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/10/haunted.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEMMR3g4fip7ImA9WhdbE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-8673365427500586007</id><published>2011-10-11T17:52:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-11T18:34:46.636-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-11T18:34:46.636-04:00</app:edited><title>Uh...</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;Thinking of something to post here everyday is surprisingly difficult. And on this particular day, I am feeling particularly brain dead. Speaking of brains...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 401px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 609px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://fc2.funcheapsf.netdna-cdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/zombie.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;...he wants 'em.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happy Tuesday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-8673365427500586007?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aRY49VPhavVg9J6BYYJHSxP0jeA/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aRY49VPhavVg9J6BYYJHSxP0jeA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aRY49VPhavVg9J6BYYJHSxP0jeA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aRY49VPhavVg9J6BYYJHSxP0jeA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/w60R5LIywkE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/8673365427500586007/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=8673365427500586007&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/8673365427500586007?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/8673365427500586007?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/w60R5LIywkE/uh.html" title="Uh..." /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/10/uh.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEMFRnw6fCp7ImA9WhdbEks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-6569056476951038644</id><published>2011-10-10T13:01:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-10T13:06:57.214-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-10T13:06:57.214-04:00</app:edited><title>Dude.</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cracked.com/article_16230_the-6-creepiest-comic-book-characters-all-time.html"&gt;The 6 Creepiest Comic Book Characters of All Time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nfjbE4kefDk/TpMlYmiWp5I/AAAAAAAAAaM/y_YFw6CzCjY/s1600/doll1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5661910261126571922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 230px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nfjbE4kefDk/TpMlYmiWp5I/AAAAAAAAAaM/y_YFw6CzCjY/s320/doll1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, no, I NEVER want to play with you! GET AWAY FROM ME!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-6569056476951038644?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/n-DAY1JVxSmz_bs-T56295JwfjI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/n-DAY1JVxSmz_bs-T56295JwfjI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/n-DAY1JVxSmz_bs-T56295JwfjI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/n-DAY1JVxSmz_bs-T56295JwfjI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/vkWyTuKes6o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/6569056476951038644/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=6569056476951038644&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/6569056476951038644?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/6569056476951038644?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/vkWyTuKes6o/dude.html" title="Dude." /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nfjbE4kefDk/TpMlYmiWp5I/AAAAAAAAAaM/y_YFw6CzCjY/s72-c/doll1.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/10/dude.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEMDQn49fip7ImA9WhdbEUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-4795580961158647758</id><published>2011-10-09T16:59:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-09T17:41:13.066-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-09T17:41:13.066-04:00</app:edited><title>Good Old-Fashioned Mindless Fun</title><content type="html">&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/areyouspookyorkookyquiz/results/?result=Spooky"&gt;You Are Spooky&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/areyouspookyorkookyquiz/spooky.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You put the trick in "trick or treat," and you won't stop scaring people until you scare yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You love horror movies, dark spooky nights, and the darker side of Halloween. You save the kids' stuff for the kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of kids, you avoid the little candy grubbing monsters at all costs. Well, unless you are looking to give them a little scare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You think Halloween has gotten a bit to sugary these days, and you don't mind injecting a little fright into things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/areyouspookyorkookyquiz/"&gt;Are You Spooky or Kooky?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com"&gt;Blogthings: Quizzes and Tests and Memes, Oh My!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatsyourzombienamequiz/results/?name1=30"&gt;Your Zombie Name is Scrape&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatsyourzombienamequiz/zombie.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Braiiiins!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatsyourzombienamequiz/"&gt;What's Your Zombie Name?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com"&gt;Blogthings: Quizzes and Tests and Memes, Oh My!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofhorrormovieareyouquiz/results/?result=Satanic"&gt;You Are a Satanic Horror Movie&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatkindofhorrormovieareyouquiz/satanic.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's no one scarier than the devil, and even just thinking about him (or her???) makes you shiver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are obsessed with the idea of evil, and unlike your typical horror movie, the devil isn't someone you can just kill at the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if you aren't religious now, it's likely that you come from a religious background and still think of the world in those terms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your favorite movies explore the idea of satanic influence... stuff like Rosemary's Baby, The Omen, and the Exorcist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofhorrormovieareyouquiz/"&gt;What Kind of Horror Movie Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com"&gt;Blogthings: We Have a Quiz for Almost Everything&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://rumandmonkey.com/widgets/tests/affliction/"&gt;&lt;img src="http://rumandmonkey.com/widgets/tests/images/affliction/f.png" title="I am Syphilis. Don't Screw With Me, Or I'll Give You Dementia." alt="I am Syphilis. Don't Screw With Me, Or I'll Give You Dementia." border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://rumandmonkey.com/widgets/tests/affliction/"&gt;Which Horrible Affliction are you?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;a href="http://rumandmonkey.com/"&gt;A Rum and Monkey disease.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-4795580961158647758?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PvOEVxag963JMJCO4jax7IPI7Ic/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PvOEVxag963JMJCO4jax7IPI7Ic/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PvOEVxag963JMJCO4jax7IPI7Ic/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PvOEVxag963JMJCO4jax7IPI7Ic/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/CxFV3cfmwQo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/4795580961158647758/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=4795580961158647758&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/4795580961158647758?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/4795580961158647758?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/CxFV3cfmwQo/good-old-fashioned-mindless-fun.html" title="Good Old-Fashioned Mindless Fun" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/10/good-old-fashioned-mindless-fun.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE8HRHo4eyp7ImA9WhdbEE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-8298792747953359359</id><published>2011-10-07T16:47:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-07T17:27:15.433-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-07T17:27:15.433-04:00</app:edited><title>Freaks (1932)</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.moviesonline.ca/movie-gallery/albums/userpics//423px-Freaks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 465px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 660px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.moviesonline.ca/movie-gallery/albums/userpics//423px-Freaks.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The Strangest... The Most Startling Human Story Ever Screened... Are You Afraid To Believe What Your Eyes See?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;I love this movie. I often feel ashamed of loving this movie (for the obvious reasons). But I don't love it because I enjoy gawking at the uniquely bodied. I love it because it's the ultimate REVENGE. Plus, I have a soft spot for all of these characters, particularly Hans and Frieda (real life brother and sister).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NMGUkECR2Hk/To9sH2DxXlI/AAAAAAAAAaE/wJFKxnlTJb0/s1600/3461259138_aee21ede9f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660862138654219858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 273px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NMGUkECR2Hk/To9sH2DxXlI/AAAAAAAAAaE/wJFKxnlTJb0/s320/3461259138_aee21ede9f.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perfect.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-8298792747953359359?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MWs60Q9s_LXaDnU-dv_wG14_FSs/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MWs60Q9s_LXaDnU-dv_wG14_FSs/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MWs60Q9s_LXaDnU-dv_wG14_FSs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MWs60Q9s_LXaDnU-dv_wG14_FSs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/gqOemw6Ksjo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/8298792747953359359/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=8298792747953359359&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/8298792747953359359?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/8298792747953359359?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/gqOemw6Ksjo/freaks-1932.html" title="Freaks (1932)" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NMGUkECR2Hk/To9sH2DxXlI/AAAAAAAAAaE/wJFKxnlTJb0/s72-c/3461259138_aee21ede9f.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/10/freaks-1932.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEAAQHw8cCp7ImA9WhdUGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-5740414561797039518</id><published>2011-10-06T16:11:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-06T16:25:41.278-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-06T16:25:41.278-04:00</app:edited><title>~ Halloween Giveaway ~</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bit.ly/tot2011"&gt;AEIOU...and sometimes why&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt; is an awesome blog giving away some awesome prizes for Halloween. Just clicketh the linketh for the rules and ENTER. Seriously, who wouldn't want to win a book called "Dick and Jane and Vampires"? Look at this thing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 263px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Wvav-uUB1G0/THwYQVhS8nI/AAAAAAAAKE0/5Nfu9VX4SFI/s400/9780448455686H.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You've got until October 12 to enter so what are you waiting for? Hurry before the vampire gets away!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-5740414561797039518?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-V_AF8XAPyYuxkRgg8wlECChciU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-V_AF8XAPyYuxkRgg8wlECChciU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-V_AF8XAPyYuxkRgg8wlECChciU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-V_AF8XAPyYuxkRgg8wlECChciU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/2z0S_epld4Q" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/5740414561797039518/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=5740414561797039518&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/5740414561797039518?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/5740414561797039518?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/2z0S_epld4Q/halloween-giveaway.html" title="~ Halloween Giveaway ~" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Wvav-uUB1G0/THwYQVhS8nI/AAAAAAAAKE0/5Nfu9VX4SFI/s72-c/9780448455686H.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/10/halloween-giveaway.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUQDQ3gyfip7ImA9WhdUGEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-5332922713504908001</id><published>2011-10-05T19:06:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-05T21:09:32.696-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-05T21:09:32.696-04:00</app:edited><title>The Thursday Ten - 10 Horror Movies I Have NEVER Seen</title><content type="html">* Every Thursday in October = a list of ten. Because lists make the world spin faster. Or something. *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;EDIT: I am a complete moron and thought today was Thursday, not Wednesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;WARNING: If you are a horror fan, my choices will make you ashamed of me for life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.) Poltergeist (1982)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.hauntedhouses.com/photos-movies/cover-poltergeist.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 317px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.hauntedhouses.com/photos-movies/cover-poltergeist.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.) The Amityville Horror (1979)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://hifistuff.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/amityville.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 330px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 475px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://hifistuff.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/amityville.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I didn't watch the remake either if that's any consolation.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.) An American Werewolf in London (1981)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://billwardwriter.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/American-werewolf-in-london.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 490px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 755px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://billwardwriter.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/American-werewolf-in-london.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Guess what? I actually OWN a copy of this and haven't watched it yet. Bad baby! BAD!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.) Jaws (1975)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://images.pictureshunt.com/pics/j/jaws-10787.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 486px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 650px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://images.pictureshunt.com/pics/j/jaws-10787.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) Alien (1979)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://moviespics.wcgame.ru/data/2011-07-01/alien-movie-poster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 351px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 522px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://moviespics.wcgame.ru/data/2011-07-01/alien-movie-poster.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) Psycho (1960)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://getmovielink.com/images/covers/Psycho_1960.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 350px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 537px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://getmovielink.com/images/covers/Psycho_1960.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) Rosemary's Baby (1968)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://thisdistractedglobe.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/rosemarys-baby-1968-poster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 444px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://thisdistractedglobe.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/rosemarys-baby-1968-poster.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) The Omen (1976)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.365horrormovie.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/the-omen-horror-movie-poster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 301px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 451px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.365horrormovie.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/the-omen-horror-movie-poster.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) Carrie (1976)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://sharetv.org/images/posters/carrie_1976.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 231px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 360px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://sharetv.org/images/posters/carrie_1976.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) Any Hammer film ever made&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.best-horror-movies.com/image-files/curse-of-frankenstein-horror-movie-poster2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 243px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.best-horror-movies.com/image-files/curse-of-frankenstein-horror-movie-poster2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Wow. That was brutal. For the record, I've seen little bits of some of these, but "little bits" is not the same as "the whole damn thing". *&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-5332922713504908001?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/iNv9i9k1XEWmN8kSfkJdtRbMADc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/iNv9i9k1XEWmN8kSfkJdtRbMADc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/iNv9i9k1XEWmN8kSfkJdtRbMADc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/iNv9i9k1XEWmN8kSfkJdtRbMADc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/dP7qv_lBTok" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/5332922713504908001/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=5332922713504908001&amp;isPopup=true" title="8 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/5332922713504908001?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/5332922713504908001?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/dP7qv_lBTok/thursday-ten-10-horror-movies-i-have.html" title="The Thursday Ten - 10 Horror Movies I Have NEVER Seen" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><thr:total>8</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/10/thursday-ten-10-horror-movies-i-have.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUMGR3Y_eyp7ImA9WhdUF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-4361139881378520505</id><published>2011-10-04T16:51:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-04T17:23:46.843-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-04T17:23:46.843-04:00</app:edited><title>The Ballad of Barbara Allen</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-niXh-J53Qg8/Totzz-EArBI/AAAAAAAAAZU/KMDhZR1RkHk/s1600/whiteUladyUghost.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659744693391502354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 313px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-niXh-J53Qg8/Totzz-EArBI/AAAAAAAAAZU/KMDhZR1RkHk/s320/whiteUladyUghost.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Scarlet town, where I was born,&lt;br /&gt;There was a fair maid dwelling,&lt;br /&gt;Made every youth cry well-away!&lt;br /&gt;Her name was Barbara Allen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in the merry month of May,&lt;br /&gt;When green buds they were swelling,&lt;br /&gt;Young William on his death-bed lay,&lt;br /&gt;For love of Barbara Allen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sent his man unto her then,&lt;br /&gt;To the town, where she was dwelling;&lt;br /&gt;“You must come to my master dear,&lt;br /&gt;If your name be Barbara Allen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“For death is printed on his face,&lt;br /&gt;And ore his heart is stealing:&lt;br /&gt;Then haste away to comfort him,&lt;br /&gt;O lovely Barbara Allen.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Though death be printed on his face,&lt;br /&gt;And ore his heart is stealing,&lt;br /&gt;Yet little better shall he be,&lt;br /&gt;For bonny Barbara Allen.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So slowly, slowly, she came up,&lt;br /&gt;And slowly she came nigh him;&lt;br /&gt;And all she said, when there she came:&lt;br /&gt;“Young man, I think you’re dying.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He turned his face unto her straight,&lt;br /&gt;With deadly sorrow sighing;&lt;br /&gt;“O lovely maid, come pity me,&lt;br /&gt;I’m on my death-bed lyin’.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“If on your death-bed you do lie,&lt;br /&gt;What needs the tale you’re telling?&lt;br /&gt;I cannot keep you from your death;&lt;br /&gt;Farewell,” said Barbara Allen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He turned his face unto the wall,&lt;br /&gt;As deadly pangs he fell in:&lt;br /&gt;“Adieu! adieu! adieu to you all,&lt;br /&gt;Adieu to Barbara Allen.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she was walking o’er the fields,&lt;br /&gt;She heard the bell a knelling;&lt;br /&gt;And every stroke did seem to say,&lt;br /&gt;“Unworthy Barbara Allen.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She turned her body round about,&lt;br /&gt;And spied the corpse a coming:&lt;br /&gt;“Lay down, lay down the corpse,” she said,&lt;br /&gt;“That I may look upon him.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With scornful eye she looked down,&lt;br /&gt;Her cheek with laughter swelling;&lt;br /&gt;That all her friends cried out amain,&lt;br /&gt;“Unworthy Barbara Allen.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he was dead, and laid in grave,&lt;br /&gt;Her heart was struck with sorrow,&lt;br /&gt;“O mother, mother, make my bed,&lt;br /&gt;For I shall die tomorrow.“&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hard-hearted creature, him to slight,&lt;br /&gt;Who loved me so dearly;&lt;br /&gt;O that I had been more kind to him,&lt;br /&gt;When he was live and near me!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She, on her death-bed as she lay,&lt;br /&gt;Begged to be buried by him;&lt;br /&gt;And sore repented of the day&lt;br /&gt;That she did ere deny him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Farewell,” she said, “ye virgins all,&lt;br /&gt;And shun the fault I fell in:&lt;br /&gt;Henceforth take warning by the fall&lt;br /&gt;Of cruel Barbara Allen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;*This is a 17th century Scottish ballad so it isn't the most terrifying thing in the world. But it's still a little unsettling. And you've got to love the lesson behind it: treat people as you want to be treated or you'll be worm food sooner rather than later.*&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-4361139881378520505?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vPyRDTWjjDb2OK-OPcV4sHy4ahU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vPyRDTWjjDb2OK-OPcV4sHy4ahU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vPyRDTWjjDb2OK-OPcV4sHy4ahU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vPyRDTWjjDb2OK-OPcV4sHy4ahU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/DzOHj2izKd8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/4361139881378520505/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=4361139881378520505&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/4361139881378520505?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/4361139881378520505?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/DzOHj2izKd8/ballad-of-barbara-allen.html" title="The Ballad of Barbara Allen" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-niXh-J53Qg8/Totzz-EArBI/AAAAAAAAAZU/KMDhZR1RkHk/s72-c/whiteUladyUghost.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/10/ballad-of-barbara-allen.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEEBSX84fCp7ImA9WhdUFks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-4338995455745698047</id><published>2011-10-03T13:09:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-03T13:24:18.134-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-03T13:24:18.134-04:00</app:edited><title>~ October, My Sweet ~</title><content type="html">In honor of the greatest month of the year (do not question this) I will be doing a horror related post EVERY FREAKING DAY (starting tomorrow) of the month. No, it won't be related to Fear Street very often, but that rat hole will always be there. Anyway, I have no idea what each post will be about, but it'll be all scary and such. And I know how much you love that. Right? RIGHT?!? Right. Now gaze into the non-eyes of this jack-o-lantern and lose yourself in the Octoberian magic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 261px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 261px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.kensavage.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/10/jack-o-lantern.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Or just go back to whatever you were doing before you started reading this. Your choice. *cough*the terrorists win when you ignore magical jack-o-lanterns*cough*)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-4338995455745698047?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6imxxThGO4JTifXdmcxOwkBOO_w/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6imxxThGO4JTifXdmcxOwkBOO_w/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/QQ6x3iUNXqM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/4338995455745698047/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=4338995455745698047&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/4338995455745698047?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/4338995455745698047?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/QQ6x3iUNXqM/october-my-sweet.html" title="~ October, My Sweet ~" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><thr:total>6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/10/october-my-sweet.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D08DSH4yeip7ImA9WhdWEUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-5342396192244620544</id><published>2011-09-04T23:59:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-05T00:11:19.092-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-05T00:11:19.092-04:00</app:edited><title>99 Fear Street: The Third Horror</title><content type="html">
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0Fpz9jWuO0Q/Th8YN8uDXXI/AAAAAAAAAB0/h3Q7llO2JNg/s1600/33u4n6h.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 243px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0Fpz9jWuO0Q/Th8YN8uDXXI/AAAAAAAAAB0/h3Q7llO2JNg/s1600/33u4n6h.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There is no way in hell that house is on Fear Street. It's too attractive.
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;Book Description&lt;/u&gt;:
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kody Frasier always swore she'd come back to 99 Fear Street. She knows the spirit of her dead sister, Cally, is trapped there, waiting to be set free. Now Kody is starring in a movie about the evil that murdered Cally, set in the very house that destroyed their family. If she can just find Cally, she can help her... But Cally doesn't want to be saved. She's been waiting all this time for revenge. And once the movie camera is rolling, Cally is going to give Kody the surprise ending of a lifetime!
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;My Description&lt;/u&gt;:
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's been two years since Kody Frasier was last in the horrid house at 99 Fear Street. It doesn't hold good memories--her brother James and her twin sister Cally died here. Kody is standing on the sidewalk having deep thoughts (as deep as a mud puddle) about how sunny the day is yet 99 Fear Street remains dark and creepy and death trap-y. Then the door opens and Kody is shocked to see Cally step out. Except not. It's just the snobby actress Persia Bryce who will be playing KODY in the movie being made about the never ending horror that is Kody's life. I'm not sure if I'm reading this correctly, but I think Kody is playing Cally...which really makes no sense.
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bo Montgomery is the director of &lt;u&gt;99 Fear Street&lt;/u&gt; (the film's overly creative title) and he believes this is his "big chance" since everything else he's ever directed turned out to be crap. Bo isn't happy because he has to make the film at this dump of a house. He also didn't want to use an amateur like Kody to fill the role of Cally, but he has no choice."This role has Winona Ryder written all over it. Instead, I get Kody Frasier." Be happy you have a job at all, asshole. His associate producer, Sam McCarthy, reminds Bo that he's getting great publicity because the movie is based on TRUE EVENTS, but Bo continues to whine about his pathetic sham of a life and how this movie could make or break him. A few moments later, Bo and Sam are suddenly surrounded by a horde of Fear rats. But they make it out of the basement unscathed thanks to Bo's trusty clipboard. I always thought Fear rats could only be killed by an ancient Fear dagger soaked in the blood of a Fear, washed in Fear Lake, and put out to power up beneath a full moon before being used by a dry lipped bumpkin from Fear Street. But apparently a 99 cent clipboard from Staples works just as well. Bo trots off to tend to the high maintenance Persia while the remaining rats presumably begin procreating as a form of revenge. You won't make it out next time, Bo. Nuh-uh. And there WILL be a next time!
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Meanwhile, Kody is talking to Rob Gentry, a blue eyed actor who moves with the "easy grace" of a cute little kitty.
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 460px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 347px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://home.comcast.net/~moonlight_mist/images/cute-kitten-cat-1.jpg?PHPSESSID=87c87a0d8245261ca54d02ab78694411" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;Any excuse to mention cute little kitties. Don't you feel warm and fuzzy now? Well, hold on to that feeling...by the end of this book, you'll need a reason to keep on living. Anyway, Rob is a total flirt (in this town, it's against the law to be anything else if you look as perfect as Rob) and pulls Kody close as they walk to the caterer's table. Kody admires him: "He's the handsomest boy I've ever met, Kody found herself thinking as she lowered herself onto the grass beside him." Too bad he'll probably be dead soon. But it doesn't matter because there are plenty of vapid pretty boys walking around so Kody will have a shoulder to cry on when the love of her life that she's known for one whole day dies. *sigh* Kody mentions that Persia is evil and treats Kody like a mutt and Rob says that Persia is jealous because she wanted to play Cally, not Kody. Once again, this makes NO SENSE. Why isn't Kody playing HERSELF? What is the purpoe of someone else portraying her when she's still around? Why am I asking questions? I'm only hurting myself. Anyway, Rob decides that Kody really isn't upset about Persia at all. She's upset about being back at the center of hell where her life was completely ruined. Wow, Rob. You are truly a genius among men. Dumbass. Kody says that being back at the house is difficult, but she wanted to be part of the film for two reasons: "One, it was such an incredible opportunity. I mean, my life was so terrible, Rob." Dad went blind, Mom was never the same, life sucked. On to the second reason: "I made a promise to my sister that I'd come back." She tells Rob about her sister's ghost and he thinks that's so normal that he can't leave fast enough when the assistant director calls for him. Kody wanders off, almost trips over a box of blood (yeah), and then can't stop thinking about the house's bloody history. But the sight of Cally (Persia?) in the window breaks through her thoughts.
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;And now the moment we've all been dreading: Cally's point of view. Gag. have I mentioned that I hate her? Because I really really do. Cally is furious because Kody came back to be a "movie star", not to visit dear old dead sis. Cally watches Kody and thinks about what a surprise she'll get when she finds Cally and realizes how positively evil she's become. "I am the evil and the evil is me." She should put that on a T-shirt. Cally decides that Kody will have to die. She watches Kody go toward the front door... "Cally shot a dozen pointed steel spikes through the front door. She listened gleefully as Kody's shrill screams rose up in a wail of terror." Kody, of course, doesn't die. She screams, Bo comes running, and after he threatens to chew out McCarthy, the asst. producer, for the spikes, Kody admires Bo's rugged good looks. No comment. McCarthy pleads his case and he and Bo walk off to do movie stuff. Kody spends a few moments having horrible bloody flashbacks before going into the house because she's part of a plot device that this book just couldn't live without. The scene about to be filmed involves Rob getting his hand ground into hamburger in the garbage disposal. He's really nervous about it so McCarthy shows him how it's done. Which is a huge, messy, gory mistake. Just as McCarthy puts his hand into the disposal, someone pushes Kody (who is just hanging around) causing her to bump into the switch that turns the disposal on. "Red as raw hamburger, McCarthy's fingers fell loosely on his cut and mangled palm." Dump some alcohol on it and STOP SCREAMING. Geez.
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;Later, Bo meets with Rob, Kody, and Persia and tells them that McCarthy lost all his mangled fingers. He asks Kody what happened and she tries to tell him she was pushed, but he interrupts her and keeps talking. She realizes he blames her for the maiming of the hand. He says he's grateful for Kody being involved with the production (HA!) and Persia mutters that it's all for the publicity (which is probably true). Bo denies it, saying that Kody is a great actress. Who has never acted before in her life. Kody is distracted by the weirdo looking in the window at them. It's our old friend Lurie, the real estate agent (who is now a peeping tom. Guess the recession caught up with him.) who sold Kody's family the house. Bo goes out to talk to the creeper and Kody and Persia have an argument which leads to Persia ripping out some of Kody's hair before Rob and Bo intervene. Persia walks off after claiming she was only acting. Rob seems very concerned about Kody: "But then, to her complete surprise, he leaned forward, wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and kissed her. A long kiss. A hungry kiss." No word on the moisture level of Rob's lips. He leaves a moment later and Kody questions if he's truly interested in her. He is an actor, after all.
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;Kody goes to sleep in her trailer and is awakened by a tapping at the door. 'Twas the raven nevermore? No, it's just...nobody. Kody opens the door and sees no-one, but she's sure Cally was just here. She steps out into the night and walks to the house. She lets herself in and is shocked to see Mrs. Nordstrom (the old housekeeper) scrubbing the sink in the kitchen. The two have a little reunion before Nordstrom goes back to scrubbing blood out of the sink and Kody goes into the living room where Cally is hanging out in the form of a cold breeze. A second later, a security guard grabs Kody's arm and asks her what she's doing. She says she used to live here and he gets all excited, getting an autograph for his nephew before letting Kody go.
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;The next morning, Kody is on set confessing how nervous she is to Rob. He assures her that they're only doing reaction shots today so she doesn't even have to speak. A girl named Joanna comes on set as stand-in for a test shot...and promptly gets her face smashed by a rogue camera. "For a few seconds Joanna seemed suspended there, her head impaled by the protruding lens. Then she toppled back and fell heavily to the ground, leaving the camera soaked with her bright red blood." People immediately freak out and amid the chaos, the security guard says something to Bo who then wants to talk to Kody. The guard told Bo that he saw Kody in the house the night before so Bo suspects that MAYBE Kody messed with the boom which caused the camera to pulverize Joanna's innocent face. He changes his tune, though, and says he really doesn't know what to think. Bo runs off and Kody is pissed about being accused. She goes inside the house (because the place is so very warm and comforting) and mopes around. Then she finds Cally's severed head in the refrigerator. She screams, Bo comes running, and we all learn that the head is, unfortunately, just a prop. Kody goes to her trailer to rest her aching brain. Meanwhile, Cally is amused by Kody's reaction to the dummy head. She's also amused (everything is just so damn FUNNY!) by all the bad things she's planning to do. Cally is the WORST revenge seeking ghost ever. Why not torture Kody directly instead of hurting people around her? Oh right--because the book would only be ten pages long and no-one would get paid.
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;The next morning, Kody throws herself into Rob's arms and begs him to hold her. As if that will help. Stop acting like a Victorian school marm with a wicked case of the vapors and do something productive for once. Like getting as far away from Shadyside as humanly possible. Instead of taking my advice, Kody makes out with Rob until they're interrupted by the hideous Persia. She came to tell them that Joanna died in the hospital and the police are on set investigating so Bo has called a break for the day. Later, Bo gathers everyone for a meeting to discuss the issue. He's interrupted by Mr. Hankers (the handyman from the previous books) who has arrived to slaughter the basement rats. At the end of the meeting, Bo tells Rob and Kody that they'll be shooting their attic scene the next morning. Bo thinks about how good Rob is...and how Kody should be replaced.
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;Rob has rented a Mustang convertible so he and Kody go for a drive. In the evening, they end up beside the Conononka River making out like fiends. (My eyes cannot possibly roll back any further.) It starts to rain so they go back to Fear Street. Kody runs to her trailer for her script because she and Rob plan to "practice their lines" and Rob stays in the car. Kody picks up her script and hears a tapping at the door. She opens it and steps out, but there's no-one there and Rob's car is gone. Then Cally appears to screw things up further. Kody can't see her, but Cally's voice commands Kody to follow her. Just reading this is making me dumber. Kody is excited and runs out into the rain. She runs to the house and goes into the basement at Cally's urging. A dark shadow rolls across the floor to Kody, but before anything happens, damn BO pops up with his hand clamped over Kody's mouth. Where the hell does he come from?!? Is he stalking her every move? He's always way too near. He wants to know what she's doing and she asks the same of him, but he just says he has things to do for the production. Liar. He says they should leave, but they can't because Kody has spotted a box of explosives labelled DANGER and she wants to know what they're for. He says at the end of the movie, he's going to blow up the house. PRAISE BE. Burn the mother down! Bo starts acting really weird and creepy and says she absolutely cannot tell anyone. He goes on to talk about her death scene, but Kody doesn't want to hear any more. Then she mentions the fact that Cally led her here, but Bo thinks she's just coming up with things for the script. Their discussion is ended when a giant rat tries to tear out Kody's throat. The poor stupid rodent misses and falls to the floor. Kody KICKS it and it runs away. How dare she! The rats are our future. RESPECT.
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;The next morning brings the attic scene which is sure to be a total disaster. Kody asks Rob why he left her the night before and he insists she told him to go back to his hotel without her. She is seriously dense. She hasn't thought ONCE that it's Cally messing with her. Anyway, Bo explains the scene. Green goo will come pouring out of the floor, Rob and Kody will pretend to be terrified, and it all has to be done in one take because it would take way too long to clean the crap up to film it again. Bo leaves the room for a few minutes and Kody and Rob have a romantic moment that isn't romantic at all. Thankfully, it doesn't last long because the goo machine starts cranking and steaming hot goo comes pouring out. And the door's locked. And the goo smells like sour milk. As the goo gets thicker and rises a little higher, Kody starts calling for Cally because she has no idea her dead demonic sister is CAUSING this mess. And now Rob thinks Kody is completely insane. Finally Kody grabs a light tower (metal poles holding two large lights) and smashes a window. Unfortunately, it appears Rob has drowned in the goo. "He probably tried to swim, Kody realized, and the disgusting liquid held him under." He tried to SWIM? Don'tlaughdon'tlaughdon'tlaugh. Actually, I guess I CAN laugh because Rob isn't dead at all. Kody pulls him out of the goo, gives him mouth to mouth (as she's been doing for several days. ZING!) and lo and behold, he lives. Then Kody vomits and calls it a day.
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;The next afternoon, Kody and Persia watch Bo pacing and claiming that this movie HAS to be made. WHY? The guy can't direct. Period. He should cut his losses and end it now before he gets his eyes gnawed out by rats. Rob is in the hospital and doing fine. Yeah, anyway, a guy named Burt Martindale is playing Kody's dad and will be filming his first scene today. Marge Anderson and Noah Klein (Mom and James) are also in the scene along with Kody and Persia. It's a dinner scene, the one in which Dad gets stabbed by a knife with a mind of its own. I guess nothing happens. For once.
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;That night, Kody wakes up after a nightmare in which she's eating doughtnuts that taste like the sour milk goo. She decides she's going to deal with Cally now. Except she still doesn't think Cally is evil. When she gets to the house, she asks Cally if she can hug her. Cally responds by luring Kody to the basement which has a tiny secret room (where the rats hang out for darts and beer nuts) where Cally is waiting for her. Cally becomes a freezing cold mist that invades Kody. I think. Possibly?
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;The next day, it's time for more of the dinner scene. Bo instructs Kody and Persia to argue over a knife. And when he says "Action", Kody rams the knife into Persia's hand, pinning her to the table. Blood spurts everywhere, Persia is screaming, everyone else is screaming, and Kody is yelling that it was supposed to be a prop, not real. Persia is eventually taken away by paramedics and Bo takes Kody aside to tell her that the movie is jinxed and she is the cause. He says she's being removed from the film. Kody responds by cracking his skull with a spotlight and burning his face with the hot bulb until smoke rises. "Okay, everybody! That's a wrap!" Shrew.
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;The real Kody is tied up in the basement. Cally didn't possess her body...how the hell did she make herself solid enough to pass as the real Kody? How can she pick up objects and such? Do I really give a damn at this point? Does ANYONE? Anyway, Cally is pure evil, rats are all over the place, and Mr. Lurie, Mrs. Nordstrom, and Mr. Hankers are feeding the rats and treating them like pets. Kody can't believe they're there and they don't even KNOW she's there. They're in the secret room and Kody is in the main part of the basement yet they never saw her. Don't care. Doesn't matter. Kody hears them say Cally is easily controlled and she realizes Cally isn't really evil. She's being controlled by those three. Cally shows up and lets Kody go because she's ruined her life and has no further use for her. Kody tells her about the demented freaks in the next room, but Cally doesn't believe her. Then the three come out and thank Cally for bringing them Kody. Cally tells Kody to run for the stairs and as she does, the three turn into rats and attack Kody. "A line of drool fell from Mr. Hankers's snarling mouth as he scratched the gray fur of his belly with both claws." Very attractive. They're joined by other rats, but Kody manages to get out of the house just before the entire thing explodes and rats go flying. *sob* I loved those filthy rodents!
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks later, Rob and Kody are hanging out...eating pizza and drinking Coke. It never fails. Kody is back in Los Angeles with her parents (that's where they fled after their time on Fear Street). Rob lives in the city and just auditioned for a dog food commercial. Woof. The doorbell rings and Rob answers. He comes back to the living room with a package for Kody. It's a tape with a note attached: "Here's a collector's item for you, Kody. It's the only film that was shot at 99 Fear Street. Talk about a big finish! Better luck to us all! Sam McCarthy" It's a shot of the explosion and a faint image of Cally waving good-bye.
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;Conclusion?: I don't wanna think about it...
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;Next time: "The New Boy" A mysterious hunk of teenage man meat moves to Shadyside and shortly after, the murders begin. It's sure to be...a gas. The kind of gas that explodes in your face and makes you wish you were never born. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-5342396192244620544?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/eXb7MK8T2rsaYY-Gse0sufI83Fc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/eXb7MK8T2rsaYY-Gse0sufI83Fc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/eXb7MK8T2rsaYY-Gse0sufI83Fc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/eXb7MK8T2rsaYY-Gse0sufI83Fc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/KAa0bgC2S-M" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/5342396192244620544/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=5342396192244620544&amp;isPopup=true" title="10 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/5342396192244620544?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/5342396192244620544?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/KAa0bgC2S-M/99-fear-street-third-horror.html" title="99 Fear Street: The Third Horror" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0Fpz9jWuO0Q/Th8YN8uDXXI/AAAAAAAAAB0/h3Q7llO2JNg/s72-c/33u4n6h.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>10</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/09/99-fear-street-third-horror.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQCQH45fyp7ImA9WhdXF08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1769561029373866833.post-1404398813551149454</id><published>2011-08-29T15:56:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-30T12:39:21.027-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-30T12:39:21.027-04:00</app:edited><title>Fall = FEAR</title><content type="html">This summer has been all over the place so I haven't exactly posted anything...yes, I am ashamed. But I don't need to tell you that because we've been through this before. I drop off the face of the earth and you weep and burn your Fear Street shrine just in time for me to come running back into your life. It's a vicious cycle. But this fall (I know it's not exactly fall yet, but I can pretend) Fear is back. I will have an update (pretty sure we're on "99 Fear Street: The Third Horror") by the end of the week.
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;Don't cry, my love. We'll be together soon. Forever and ever and ever...and ever.
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1769561029373866833-1404398813551149454?l=fearstreet1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OOEvVkCE3tBo9EZkK27feLKPJtY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OOEvVkCE3tBo9EZkK27feLKPJtY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OOEvVkCE3tBo9EZkK27feLKPJtY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OOEvVkCE3tBo9EZkK27feLKPJtY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FearStreet/~4/SxaGlSugrv8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/feeds/1404398813551149454/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1769561029373866833&amp;postID=1404398813551149454&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/1404398813551149454?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1769561029373866833/posts/default/1404398813551149454?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FearStreet/~3/SxaGlSugrv8/fall-fear.html" title="Fall = FEAR" /><author><name>Fear Street</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01318644101952278609</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LaiZnLAENlQ/Su5AhD3IrWI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/S56yZIySLs4/S220/bloodymary.jpg" /></author><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://fearstreet1.blogspot.com/2011/08/fall-fear.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

