October might be the usual time for all things blood and gore but this year the festivities started a month early with a delightful musical misadventure. We’d caught this tour as they were going through Nashua NH, stopping at a cute little theater with parking for maybe 10 cars max. That was the first fun part. I’m not at all convinced I didn’t cuddle my Prius up somewhere it wasn’t supposed to be but luckily no one seemed to notice this unauthorized vehicle in the lot we found. The area wasn’t exactly bustling with activity. It was really weird. I used to come to Nashua NH exactly once a year to shop for school clothes at the mall when I was a kid and I remembered it to be this huge scuzzy city. Now coming back to it after I’ve been through Boston and NYC and I found myself intensely underwhelmed. It’s funny how things change.
As I got out of the car I was greeted with snickers and giggles, “Did you remember to bring a change of clothes?”
“For what??” Once again I was either not exactly running with all the information or it’d gone by my ears so long ago I’d forgotten. No, I did not bring a change of clothes, who brings a change of clothes to a play?! I mean I know the play is about a dude with a chainsaw for a hand but… oh god, that sounds messy.
As we walked into the theater they had a raffle going for an odd prize. It was like one of those giant foam sports fingers but instead of a finger it was a chainsaw. Cute. Looking around the audience was presumably a very neurospicy crowd. Tufts of vibrant unnaturally colored hair and funny tee shirts were scattered throughout this gathering like rainbow jimmies on a cupcake. It was nice. You know how much I love my fellow misfits.
Having bought these tickets way the hell in advance we were able to sit front and center. Directly behind a weird black box with tubes coming out of it. Huh. Odd. Is that…. a blood sprinkler? Because the nozzle seemed to be pointed directly at me. Hmmm..
When the play finally started we were treated with a cast delivering only the campiest of lines with the same inflection and unwarranted enthusiasm as a 1950’s film on hygiene. There were enough innuendos, puns, and dad jokes to last a lifetime. And between all the singing and bit humor there was a malcontented tree. Fucking loved that tree. May have been the best character in the play!
And as much as I was loving every cheesy bit of this it still wasn’t gory. By now my purse was tucked under my plastic covered chair hopefully well out of way of the splash zone. We’d all passed up on the offer to buy a $5 poncho. I’d been to the Blue Man Group before, they also sold largely unnecessary ponchos. We’d all take our chances. Then came the infamous chopping off of the hand scene and blood spurted straight into the air on the other side of the audience, like a lawn sprinkler. Pfft. I could handle a little mist like that. Little was I to know that just because of where I was sitting I’d been specially chosen for a blood bath like no other.
I was only halfway expecting it but luckily my reflexes kicked in before my brain did and I closed my mouth and eyes as a geyser of fake blood shot directly at my face, DRENCHED every bit of me, stopped, AND THEN STARTED IN AGAIN. The audience laughed uproariously as I ineffectively held up my hands, not exactly sure what to do. That blood was COLD and I was starting to regret my decision not to wear a bra that night. But you know what? Of all the places to let my titties wander feral and free (as goddess intended) I guess a horror musical is at least fitting. There was no part of my T-shirt, face, pants, and shoes that wasn’t sopping wet by now. Even my hair was dripping and I thought I’d experienced the last of it but no. For comedic effect I got one third blast as I heard my dearest yell-laughing, “OH MY GOD!” Splatter zone my ass, this was a drench zone! And I loved every bit of it. Except maybe the taste. We decided the blood must be unsweetened Kool-Aid. But I get it. Got to use something that’s not too sticky!
You might think that was it but actually that was just the first half of the show. The second half was much bloodier and the sources of the blood were coming from all directions not just the sprinklers. Audience members who thought they were safe 3 rows up were absolutely not safe. I felt a little bad for the two wearing white T-shirts who got drenched as well. But everyone seemed to be really enjoying this absolutely absurd series of events.
We had so much fun and were in very high spirits when we finally left. I found my emergency hoodie in the car and changed in the backseat like a hobo before driving the hour home. I had an absolute blast and would very highly recommend going to see this production if you too love campy horror, unlikely musicals, or just happen to need a bath in Kool-Aid.
It all starts with Colonel Buck, one of the town’s founding leaders. I was told the story went something like this: A long time ago there was a mayor named Colonel Buck who had an illicit affair with a woman about the town and when she threatened to spill the beans about it he had her burned as a witch. As she was engulfed in flames her foot fell out of the fire, flopped onto the grave stone of her accuser, and made a permanent mark after she cried out some curse involving said foot. It’s a marvelous story. Gruesome, morbid, full of intrigue… and a complete lie. This had to have been made up by some bored parent one day teasing their children walking by the cemetery. Still, it attracts visitors from all over who come to gaze at Colonel Buck’s Tomb, which isn’t a tomb so much as a pillar shaped gravestone that was erected six decades after he died. He also wasn’t the mayor, he was a justice of the peace, and if he had any illicit love affairs they’re not on record and neither is there any record of any executions of witches in Maine. In fact the only witches put to death in all of New England were hung or pressed to death with stones, not burned alive. There’s a sign saying all this, basically a big ol’ bulletin that might as well read, “Y’all full of shit.” but hey if it’s real blood guts and gore you’re after there’s a much lesser known stone with a much truer story a few streets away.
This is the stone of Sarah Ware. Her story is as weird as it gets up here in Maine. She was unusual in life because she was a divorced woman in the 1800’s, something pretty much unheard of. This had to have given her one hell of a stigma and maybe it was exactly that that got her killed. Life as a divorcee was not easy then and at fifty two years of age she was supporting herself by being a Jill of all trades babysitting, cleaning, and doing the odd job here and there. She was on her way home one evening when she disappeared. She was found two weeks later in a field viciously bludgeoned to death. She had been beaten so badly that when the body was removed her head fell clean off and her jaw was nowhere to be found. It was then kept as evidence as the rest of her was buried somewhere. Her head was kept in criminal storage as evidence for nearly a century before clerks discovered this gruesome artifact in 1983. The head was given a stone and laid to rest in the Oak Hill Cemetery, sans body.