6-6-06

Inspired by the characters he loves most. Driven by the music he can't put down. Only Grady, a thirteen year old pop-culture-obsessed outcast, stands in the way of an elderly, eight-legged conspiracy and the end of days in this coming of age horror-comedy that's equal parts Lost Boys, Slither and Evil Dead.

I didn't have a whole ton of friends growing up. Kids weren't exactly lining up to hang out with the chubby dude with spiky hair, shorts covered in pointless straps and chains, t-shirts exclusively from Hot Topic, and an iPod full of gloom. All through junior high, my Top Eight on MySpace was really just a Top Three.

And the summer before freshman year, we really screwed up.

Over the course of one incredibly stupid, painfully misguided night, we went from planning what movies we were going to watch on the Unholy Holy Day, to full parental lockdown until the start of school. Sent to stay with my grandparents, hundreds of miles from my graphic novels and action figures, I got the worst of it. Disgustingly scenic coastlines. A quaint little town straight out of a nauseating postcard. And a dark conspiracy born from the most vile and twisted evil to ever plague mankind . . .

a Homeowners Association.

High on the cliffs of Sea Breeze Bluffs, eight-legged secrets worked in the shadows, through an army of people old enough to remember the Hindenburg. Watching my every move. Corrupting my Pop-Pop. Commanding my Mee-Moo.

Waiting patiently for 6-6-06.