Freddy Got Fingered Quotes

Uh, now let me tell you about what's new. We found another set of drawings, always nice, AND A FOXY HEAD! Which we think could be authentic! Then again, it might just be another crappy cosplay. And we found a Desk fan, very old school, metal though, so watch the fingers! Uh, heh! Uhm, right now the place is basically just, you know, FLASHING LIGHTS and SPOOKY PROPS. I honestly thought we'd have more by now, uh so if we don't have anything really cool by next week, we may have to suit you up in a Freddy suit, and make you walk around saying: "BOOO!" Hehe. Uh, but you know like I said, were trying to track down, a good lead right now. Uh, some guy who helped design one of the buildings, said there was like, an extra room that got boarded up..? Or something like that.  So! Were gonna take a peak, and see what we can find. Uh, for now just get comfortable with the new

The last week of shooting, we did a scene in which I drag Amanda Wyss, the sexy, blond actress who played Tina, across the ceiling of her bedroom, a sequence that ultimately became one of the most visceral from the entire Nightmare franchise. Tina’s bedroom was constructed as a revolving set, and before Tina and Freddy did their dance of death, Wes did a few POV shots of Nick Corri (aka Rod) staring at the ceiling in disbelief, then we flipped the room, and the floor became the ceiling and the ceiling became the floor and Amanda and I went to work. As was almost always the case when Freddy was chasing after a nubile young girl possessed by her nightmare, Amanda was clad only in her baby-doll nightie. Wes had a creative camera angle planned that he wanted to try, a POV shot from between Amanda’s legs. Amanda, however, wasn’t in the cameramen’s union and wouldn’t legally be allowed to operate the cemera for the shot. Fortunately, Amy Haitkin, our director of photography’s wife, was our film’s focus puller and a gifted camera operator in her own right. Being a good sport, she peeled off her jeans and volunteered to stand in for Amanda. The makeup crew dapped some fake blood onto her thighs, she lay down on the ground, Jacques handed her the camera, I grabbed her ankles, and Wes called, “Action.” After I dragged Amy across the floor/ceiling, I spontaneously blew her a kiss with my blood-covered claw; the fake blood on my blades was viscous, so that when I blew her my kiss of death, the blood webbed between my blades formed a bubble, a happy cinematic accident. The image of her pale, slender, blood-covered legs, Freddy looming over her, straddling the supine adolescent girl, knife fingers dripping, was surreal, erotic, and made for one of the most sexually charged shots of the movie. Unfortunately it got left on the cutting-room floor. If Wes had left it in, the MPAA - who always seemed to have it out for Mr. Craven - would definitely have tagged us with an X rating. You win some, you lose some.

You’re really going?” Except it wasn’t a question. “You’ve asked it of me,” Val reminded her gently, “and you are convinced Freddy will pester me literally to death if I don’t leave you to continue on with him as you did before, and you have forbidden me to call him out.” She nodded and leaned into him, fell into him, because her knees threatened to buckle with the magnitude of the loss she was to endure. Val embraced her, resting his cheek against her hair. “You’re a strong woman, Ellen Markham, and I have every faith in your ability to soldier on. I need to know as I trot out of your life that you will be fine and you will manage here without me. So”—he put a finger under her chin and forced her to meet his gaze—“tell me some pretty lies, won’t you? You’ll be fine?” Ellen blinked and obediently recited the requested untruth. “I’ll be fine.” “I’ll be fine, as well.” Val smiled at her sadly. “And I’ll manage quite nicely on my own, as I always have. You?” “Splendidly,” Ellen whimpered, closing her eyes as tears coursed hot and fast down her cheeks. “Oh, Val…” She clutched him to her desperately, there being no words to express the pure, undiluted misery of the grief she’d willingly brought on herself. “My dearest love.” Val kissed her wet cheeks. “You really must not take on so, for it tortures me to see it. This is what you want, or do I mistake you at this late hour?” “You do not.” The sigh Ellen heaved as she stepped back should have moved the entire planet. She wanted Val safe from Freddy’s infernal and deadly machinations, and this was the only way to achieve that goal. She had the conviction Valentine Windham, a supremely determined and competent man—son of a duke in every regard—would not take Freddy’s scheming seriously until it was too late. It was up to her to protect the man she loved, and that thought alone allowed her to remain true to the only prudent course. “You have not mistaken me, not now—not ever.” “I did not think you’d change your mind.” Val led her back toward the house by the hand. “I have left my direction in the library, and in the bottom drawer of the desk you will find some household money. I know you’d prefer to cut all ties, Ellen, but if you need anything—anything at all—you must call upon me. Promise?” “I promise,” she recited, unable to do otherwise. “And Ellen?” Val paused before they got to the stable yard. “Two things. First, thank you. You gave me more this summer than I could have ever imagined or deserved, and I will keep the memories of the joy we shared with me always. Second, if there should be a child, you will marry me.” “There will not be a child,” she murmured, looking back toward the wood. He was thanking her? She’d cost him a fortune and put his well-being in jeopardy, and he was thanking her? “I do not, and never will, deserve you.” “Promise me you’ll tell me if there’s a child?” Val’s green eyes were not gentle or patient. They were positively ducal in their force of will. “If there is a child I will tell you.” “Well, then.” Val resumed their progress. “I think that’s all there is to say, except, once again, I love you.” “I love you, too,” Ellen replied, wishing she’d given him the words so much more often and under so many different circumstances. “Good-bye, my dearest love.

Alex.” She couldn’t look up at him. “Alexandra. Look at me.” With a sigh, she did, meeting his gaze as he spoke firmly. “You don’t have to apologize for any of that. I incited you…I know that now as much as I knew it then. I’m sorry that I was boorish. I should have checked my behavior long before it came to our arguing in the middle of a ball.” He reached out and took the candle from her hands, setting it on a nearby table before taking her hands in his. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I don’t know what got into me about Freddie. I’ve always quite liked him. But this season…seeing him flirting with you…it’s been…difficult to watch. And I know my behavior has been reprehensible.” “You have to stop thinking of me as your sister, Gavin.” He offered her a half smile. “That seems to be the singular problem.” Confusion clouded her emerald eyes as he continued, “You see, I haven’t been thinking of you as my sister. In fact, the way I’ve been thinking when it comes to you is the very opposite of brotherly.” The words hung in the air and Alex’s eyes widened as understanding dawned. He offered a self-deprecating smile. “I see you take my meaning.” He let go of her hands and ran his fingers through his hair as though he didn’t know what to do with them. “You needn’t worry. I’m not going to act on my feelings.” “Why?” Alex asked the question without thinking. “If only I knew why. It began at the start of the season, and at first I chalked it up to my missing you while I was in mourning. Which I did. But instead of the feelings dissipating as I spent time in your company”—he slashed a hand through the air in frustration—“they only seemed to grow stronger.” Alex looked up at him, meeting his frustrated grey eyes. “Not why are you feeling the way you are, Gavin. Why aren’t you going to act on those feelings?” He froze. Neither of them moved, each afraid to take the next step. The first step. The moment stretched out into what seemed like an eternity and Alex began to feel awkward, as though she had said the wrong thing. “I—I’m sorry. I—I don’t know what prompted me to ask such a thing.” She started to take a step backward. “No.” The word was soft, but brooked no refusal. She went still as he continued, “There are a dozen reasons why I shouldn’t act on them.” He lifted his hands to cradle her face between them. “A hundred reasons why I should turn around and walk out of this room.” He leaned down until he was a hairbreadth away from her. “But I’m through listening to them.” And, with that, he kissed her. The

Milly could not abide the drawling humor in his tone. She got her hands on him. Sank her fingers into his every-which-way hair,plastered herself to him, and kissed his fool, blathering mouth into silence. “She wants you to have somebody to love, you idiot man,” she growled against his teeth. “Somebody to love you.” He might have argued, except Milly was not turning loose of his mouth. Something shuddered through him, a groan or a sigh, and his arms came around her slowly, then quite, quite snugly. “Better, my lord.” “My aunt has hired a madwoman.” He was a madman, but he kissed wonderfully, turning Milly’s assault into a dance, a twining of tongues, sighs, and bodies that had nothing to do with dueling pistols—at least in Milly’s mind. She would never presume to know his lordship’s. St. Clair’s hand cupped Milly’s breast from below, a lovely caress, one that inspired her to sink her fingers into the firm musculature of his backside. The urge to climb him stole into Milly’s imagination, along with a burning desire to relieve St. Clair of his remaining clothes. “I’ll just get my fich—”Lady Freddie’s voice stopped abruptly as the front door was thrown open, and cold air swirled into the foyer. “Sebastian, unhand Miss Danforth.” Four little words, but they presaged Milly’s ruin. Over her shoulder, she saw the professor intently examining the roses—or studying the scene in the mirror—while Lady Avery and Lady Covington examined Milly and Sebastian. And Sebastian did not unhand her, for which Milly’s knees were grateful.