The Return of the Living Dead

“The Return of the Living Dead” is truly a gem; one of those rare horror-comedies that delivers successfully to both genres. I didn’t realize it was ultimately a spoof until the first time I watched it. I think I was a sophomore in high school the very first time; I watched it alone in my room late one night. It had recently been released onto DVD after years of being out-of-print. For my 16^th birthday my dad and his 4^th wife at the time took Julian and me out to a giant sushi and seafood buffet restaurant named Todai which was in Schaumburg, IL near the legendary Woodfield Mall. Julian had recently been graced with a new used Ford Escort, beige-colored, shortly after totaling a red Ford Escort on Lake Shore Drive.

The birthday present given me by my dad’s 4^th wife was a copy of “The Return of the Living Dead.” My immediate reaction in my head was “Ohhh great.” I think the only thing I had even remotely in common with her was an interest in zombie movies, but I think she had me beat since she was practically a zombie herself. And this movie was her absolute favorite, she used to tell me about it over and over again.

As for the second viewing, I introduced the movie to David Carter during the dismal winter of 2004 (late February) which found us in our junior year of high school. I was your typical uber-depressed and moody adolescent in those days who smoked a lot of pot and read Nietzsche with a profoundly un-entitled sense of pretentiousness. Another boring night Dave and I spent driving around the suburbs getting high we took back roads all the way to Berwyn just short of the city. We passed by a massive 24-hour laundromat called Laundry World that lit up the night with its fluorescent-decked interior and big, attractive neon sign reaching into the high heavens. I liked the way it appeared and wanted to go inside, but knowing the two of us would make a scene, Dave and I decided to go back to my house and watch a movie. We got back to Downers Grove around 10:30 pm and smoked another bowl before entering my house. We walked in and past my mom who was still awake watching some television program. Innocently we told her we were going to watch a movie for lack of anything better to do, and we trudged on up the creaky old stairs to my room and put on “The Return of the Living Dead.” I wasn’t feeling depressed at then; usually when I was around Dave I was happiest during those times.

Years later, in 2011, Dave sent me a text message that read something like: "What was that zombie movie we watched with those assholes from the future?"
I responded with the title and corrected him. "It wasn't the future. It was set in the 80s."