Left to my own devices

This year marks the twenty-fifth anniversary of Wes Craven's Scream . It is often credited with rejuvenating horror movies. That is true, though I sometimes wince at the thought of how it was done (by basically laughing at the genre a bit too much). I like my horror movies somewhere in the middle of not-too-serious/not too campy. This is one reason I've never warmed to films such as the 2018 Halloween or, say, Dracula: Dead and Loving It . Anyhow -- because it's October, and we're but ten short days away from Halloween, I thought it would be a good time to revisit my memories of the original  Scream .

       T hey met, by happenstance, in one of the most mundane ways possible. There they stood one day, in a line at the local post office. It had been several minutes since their separate arrivals. Folks who had been patiently waiting began to shift their body weight from side to side. Much sighing could be heard. There was one, lone clerk to deal with everyone coming through. It wasn't their fault the office was understaffed, but that was of little comfort to the people who wanted to get in, get out, and get on with their lives. George contemplated his youngest son -- now twenty-seven -- and his tedious, parting words before the father had left to run his errand. "You know you can do this online, right, dad? You don't have to actually go to the post office." George knew -- or did he? Now sixty-six-years-old, he'd grown accustomed to doing things in-person. He could use the computer if necessary, but preferred face-to-face contact. Alas, he lamented that such int