THE MASTERS of TERROR /
KEENE / CABALCON 2000

Oh hell, I'll just call it
THE GATHERING 2000
Brian Keene's Apt. and Mark Lancaster's House, Cockeysville, Maryland, USA

Those who have visited my report on the WHC 1999 and the WHC 2000 know that I have been to many Conventions in my life.
Blah, blah, blah.

This however, is the tale of a very strange journey.

It all started with Brian Keene sending me an e-mail in which he said,
"Now keep this to yourself, Feo. Don't tell anyone else, but, I'm thinking of getting a bunch of us together at my house."
'Good for you,' I thought. 'So yer having a party: and?'
The next thing I knew Brian was calling me on the phone and saying,
"You know that party I was planning on having at my place? Well don't tell anyone, but I want you to be there."
I said, "Thanks Brian, but you damn well know that I am currently living in San Diego, California, which is on the other side of the country from Kick-A-Poo, Virginia!"

"That's Cockeysville, Maryland," he said, "and it would be cool if you could make it anyway."
Oh, Cockeysville you say, well that's different naturally!
"But keep it a secret!" he added.

A few minutes later Brian was in the Horrornet chat room telling everyone his secret.
"There will be publishers, movie people, Perhaps even S.K. and C.B. will show up!"

Now you have to understand something about Horror folk and that is this:
We Love To Party!
Now sure, you may say,
"Well hell, Feo! "I" love to party! EVERYONE LOVES TO PARTY!"

Okay but, have you ever partied with people who are really, And I Mean REALLY into Horror?

Take some time to digest that thought while I continue with my tale.

After mere scant months, the deal was set in stone. The Masters Of Terror board had announced it. Nearly everyone who was known in the press as a fast rising talent in Horror was converging on Cockysville, Maryland for the Labor Day Weekend.

I was invited too.

I decided to drive my wonderful car, a 2000 Toyota Celica GT. Now I didn't drive it because I'm afraid of flying. Hell, I LOVE flying! I didn't drive it because I was broke. The gas prices alone made this an expensive trip!
No, I drove for one reason and one reason only:
Because I just LOVE driving that car!
If you don't know what I'm talking about, then let me ask you a personal question:
Have you ever drove one of these babies?
Aw DAMN but it is sweet!
The stereo is the best I've ever heard straight from the factory and the seats are designed so perfect (the cloth seats are what I have. I'd never get vinyl or leather - in a car? HA!) that you never feel stiff or cramped or get that general "Ugh! These seats, man!" kind of feeling. The Toyota seats in my Celica always feel good, and the gas mileage is phenomenal, even with the air conditioner running!

I also have a huge bumper sticker on the back of my car and I figured that advertising my site from one end of the country to the other was a business expense - in my book anyway!

I started out at around Midnight Pacific time and wound my way through the tiresome roads that curdle through the mountains that shore up the likes of San Diego and Los Angeles. Take my advice, when coming into California, drive in via the Los Angeles route. Highway 8 going into San Diego takes you through frustrating, never ending paths of paved switchbacks of which there are very few service stations.

I took the L.A. route and beyond so the drive for me was just fine. I was going to cross the nation via the North. No problems or anything out of the ordinary going through California, Nevada, and Arizona.

Then I got to Utah.

INCREDIBLE!

You have not lived until you see the amazing, breathtaking roads that wind through the vast rock scenery of Southwest Utah! Nothing short of stunning!

During my drive through Utah, I fell in love with the state (in a natural geological sense of course!).

Toward the evening I made my way into Colorado and it started raining. It rained from one end of that state to the other. By the last leg of my journey through Colorado, heading on up to Nebraska, it was both rainy AND fogged in. Tuckered after the long drive and having been up for nearly 24 hours, I decided to rest.

The next day I drove on into Nebraska at about 3:00 am.

Still raining.

Taking the long way across the state I heard nothing but Sports and Farm Reports on the radio. Farm reports are HUGE in Nebraska. You ain't hip unless you know your farm reports. Being cool in Nebraska is owning a farm. Being a stud in Nebraska is owning a farm you actually WORK on! Being a beautiful woman in Nebraska is owning a farm and being single. Superstar Sport celebrities are whoever is the hero riding on the Rodeo circuit. It must be damn tough to be a Goth in Nebraska!
Heh! Heh!

I had it all figured out during my trip. I would blast Heavy Metal music all the time and listen to the RUSH LIMBAUGH show!

Unfortunately, Sean O' New Yorker was filling in for the vacationing Rush that week. Sean was alright, but he was no Limbaugh!

So I listened to Marilyn Manson, Monster Magnet, KMFDM, Megadeth, Venom, and the soundtrack to HEAVY METAL 2000 instead. Great soundtrack, suck-ass movie!

I came out of Nebraska and right into Iowa and eventually Illinois. I passed through the fringes of Chicago toward the evening and drove right into a cloud bank at the very border of Ohio.

Ohio was nothing but fog all the way through. I couldn't believe it!

I was on this toll road that goes from Illinois through Ohio and all the way into New York, no fooling! Indiana is in there somewhere too, I'm not sure. It was VERY foggy!

In Ohio, via the tollroads, there are very few places to rest, etc. What is there are usually situated at tree covered turns in the road, so you come out of the trees and are zipping past the Tollroad designate (designate meaning you don't have to leave the Tollroad, to eat at the restaurant or get gas, and then pay again to get back on). I passed two of them before I decided to get some shut eye. I had been driving nearly non-stop for 16 hours.

With no place to go, but ever mindful of the fact that my last blink was just a little TOO cozy (when you open your eyes from a blink and you are crossing the center line heading toward the tree line, that is TOO cozy)! I pulled off the side toward the very meager shoulder and, after putting on my emergency signals, went to sleep.

Then I woke right up. Bright lights everywhere and when I raised my seat they were all shining at me. My emergency lights seemed to have caught the attention of a highway patrol woman. Unlike most states you go to, like California and Arizona, these Ohio police take their motto of "To Serve And Protect" serious! This wonderful deputy thought I may have some trouble and actually decided to STOP and offer ASSISTANCE!

I explained about my cozy blink and the emergency lights were just a precaution on the fog bound road for upcoming traffic. She kindly directed me to the next turnoff which, as it so happened, was just around the bend.

Hey, who knew?

Of course, I missed it and had to drive to the next one. After I got the hang of one of these "just around the bend things (the fog didn't help!) I stopped at the 3rd one and got gas and something to eat. I drank too much coffee though.

An hour later and the fog was getting lighter. It was still as thick as before, but with a tinge of grey that let me know that, somewhere, the dawn was cresting the horizon.

I really had to go. You know . . . GO!

I had decided to drive under the speed limit because the fog was just SO damn thick! I couldn't even see the front of my car!

Well, in the U.S., cars on freeways, highways, and tollroads travel in wolf packs. My adrenaline was pumping some major psi after two of these packs came out of nowhere behind me, nearly ramming themselves up my ass, as they honked, skid, and just barely avoided smashing me to leetle bitty piecez! Into the fog they disappeared before me: barely seen even zooming right past me.

They drive like maniacs through the fog of Ohio. They don't care!

After the second pack, I decided to change my plan and try to stay between the packs. This would be accomplished (I thought) by staying at the speed limit and thus keeping between the packs. Surely they wouldn't drive over the speed limit in Ohio during such poor driving conditions!

In Ohio, they would, and another pack came right up on top of me, honking and braking and disappearing into the nebulina.

Fine then! Not wanting to get killed, I pushed my speed up to 10 miles over the speed limit. Surely THIS would keep me safe?

Ahh . . . but then the paranoia set in. I imagined myself suddenly coming up at the dead last minute onto the backside of another car and not being able to brake in time. My attention was totally, high wired set on two things, Keeping my eyes glued to the fog ahead and staying just above the speed limit. Having these packs coming right up on me was a bad gamble and I didn't want to play no more!

I also had to go to the bathroom.

Suddenly I popped through the fog and into a clearing. There on the side of the road was a cop car. As is natural with any driver, I automatically checked my speed:

"100 MILES AN HOUR?

HOLY SHI - !"

I popped right back into the fog bank again.

This time I could hear the klaxon shriek of a police car.

He had me. He had me GOOD!

In many countries, the sound of an emergency vehicle sounds like someone saying "hey you! Hey You! HEY YOU! Hey You! hey you!"
But we do funny things in the U.S. Cop cars have all kinds of sound effect toys.
First you get the "whoa! Whoa! WHOA!" sound which is often turned in its pitch, should you fail to come to a complete stop, by its cousin the "wow! Wow! WOW!" sound. "Wow!" being the accolades, bonus, and embellished story the cops are going to tell when they catch you.
And they WILL catch you!
They do not care how many cop cars they wreck - that will go on YOUR tab not theirs.

Still, the idea of that prissy faced, hair sprayed TV cop, John Bonehead, actually being in the car and shooting one of his episodes of WHEN CRIMINALS GO BAD or some such crap, made me think that maybe, in this fog so thick, I could elude this cop, and get away quick.

This cop was clearly not losing me in the fog. He had more experience in Ohio than I did. So I slowed it down before he decided to make his siren sound like a loud robot with lips, playing with its food.

We came to another clearing where there happened to be enough space to pull over without blocking traffic.

Man, but I had to go!

Now different states act in different ways. In some states, you get out of the car and wait next to your vehicle, preferably with your hands on the car or otherwise in plain site.

In places like Texas and Arizona you stay in your car and God help you if you try to leave it without permission.

In Ohio, however, I was asked, in a 500 watt voice, to "Get out of your car and approach the vehicle. " It was not the time to act like a smart ass and ask "Which vehicle?" Obviously, the only vehicle that mattered at this point was his.

I needed options, choices, an alibi, anything but a ticket for driving 100 miles an hour through the fog!

Though the sun was now up, he had all of his lights going and a 10,000 candle power search beam trained right on me.

Boy! Did I have to go to the bathroom!

The idea suddenly hit me: What if I did? Right there in the spotlight and everything? I mean, peeing in your pants was not a crime right? Even in Ohio?

The spotlight was on me. It was showtime and I knew what my motivation was; to not get a traffic ticket or worse.

The Ohio trooper watched as my Levi jeans went from Indigo to Navy blue right before his very eyes.

Now let me take a moment here to explain something.

Sheriffs and Deputies ALWAYS say the most polite things when apprehending you.

When you speed they will politely say, "Good day sir, how are you today? Do you know how fast you were going?"
as if this traffic stop was nothing more than an opportunity for the deputy to engage you in conversation and enrich both your lives with a moment of friendly human interaction.

If they discover a trunk full of cocaine in your car they will politely ask you if "you know how that got there?"

If they catch you with a decapitated corpse slung over your shoulder they will suggest that, "Sir, would you put that body down for a moment please? We'd llike to have a word with you."

He wasn't polite to me - nor was he rude. In a voice most appalled he said, nearly shrieked, "What's WRONG with you!?!"

I explained to him that I really had to go to the bathroom VERY bad. "In this thick fog," I said, "its hard to see the turn-offs until its too late, and there is no place to pull over for most of the way!"

Then I just stood there trying to look both utterly humiliated and wistful all at the same time.

As it turned out, it was an excuse that any man would understand. Sometimes you just gotta GO!

He hurriedly told me that there was restroom facilities just 4 miles up the road.

Hey, who knew?

I went back to my car and dropped trou to change into dry clothes. After all, I wasn't going to get my seats all messed up; I love this car!

This apparently was more than the deputy could bear, as he actually pulled away and drove off into the fog bank, leaving me alone to momentarily surprise the motorists passing in and out of the clearing.

Now there are two ways that the cop could have felt about this scenario.

The first one is, he felt bad for the rest of the day thinking: My God! I humiliated that poor bastard! I've always said that this tollroad doesn't have enough restroom facilities! And he was from Texas too! That must have been a TERRIBLE humiliation for a Texan!

The other scenario is this: He headed back to the station, took the video tape from his patrol car and popped it into the station's VCR. He then gathered his compadres around and speaking in a voice like Barney Fife, "Yep! I had that boy so scared I made him Pee his PANTS! He was a TEXAN too!"

So if you should ever be watching COPS one day, and they have a man peeing in his pants in the patrolcar spotlight - face blurred to protect his identity -and the bumper on the car has a feoamante.com decal on it, THAT'S ME! THAT'S ME!

The rest of the trip was largely uneventful. I passed through Pennsylvania and into upstate New York. I picked up Julie Morales and, following the benighted directions of Brian Keene, we eventually made our way to The Gathering by Saturday Night.

This then, is where our pictorial story begins.

Are you in these photos and have your own website?
Write me and let me know. I'll use your name for a link to your page.

Most asked Question: Why don't you make these pictures smaller
and chop them up so that they will load faster?
Answer: The main reason these pictures are here is so the folks
featured in them can save a decent quality image for themselves.
Just point your mouse over the image and right click. From the menu box
that appears, choose Save Image and double click.

All Images Are For The Personal Use Of The People In The Photos ONLY.
All Others Please Inquire

THESE HOUSEPLANTS WILL DO NICELY.
Truly the consummate host, Brian Keene prepares a
salad for his guests using whatever materials are at hand.

PHOTO BY JUDI ROHRIG

WE LIKE MEEEAAAT!
Brian really put himself out for his friends; making sure
that all our needs were met and that a great time was
had by all.
Here Brian rustles us up some barbecued vittles.
The food was delicious, although it could have used a
little less body hair.

PHOTO BY JUDI ROHRIG

BESET BY THE AUTOGRAPH HOUNDS
Richard Laymon needs no table, no hard surface or
even someone's back to sign an autograph for a fan.
He carries a pen on his side like ancient warriors
carried swords.
Hmmm . . . the pen, the sword . . . there's something in that.
HA! An inspiration! At any rate, Mark Lancaster, who was
unable to stop having a good time at The Gathering, shares
a laugh with Judi Rohrig.

PHOTO BY KELLY LAYMON

BRIAN KEENE WAXES PHILOSOPHIC
Holly Newstein from Hellnotes asked a simple question:
"Where do you see the direction of Horror over the next 5 years?"
This was unfortunately asked after Brian partook
of a goodly number of beers throughout the day.
As Brian expounds on his ideology, Geoff Cooper
looks on and remembers just why he gave up drinking.

PHOTO BY JUDI ROHRIG

OH YEAH . . .? WELL LET (HIC!) ME TELL YOU SUMPIN' SHMARTASH!
Of course, Brian's isn't the only opinion.
Here Mike Oliveri woozily puts Brian in his place. Keene checks the
beer bottle label to see just how much alcohol is IN these foreign imports.
Ed Lee in the red shirt, wishes he had a smoke, and Holly tries to stay awake.

PHOTO BY JUDI ROHRIG

SMOKES IF YOU GOT 'EM
Ed Lee (THE USHERS) shares a Laramie moment
with one of his biggest fans and good friends,
Geoff "The Bad Boy" Cooper.

PHOTO BY KELLY LAYMON

THE ALIENS ARRIVE
The statuesque Linda Addison (DARK MATTER)
and her partner Gerard Houraner (DEAD CAT BOUNCE) arrive and mingle among us. Little does anyone know that
these two are, in reality, EVIL ALIENS in folk costumes!

PHOTO BY MARK LANCASTER

GLAD TO SHARE MY GLORY
"Well just hold it honey! You can go to the bathroom
after they take the picture! This is Gerard Houarner!
We may not get another chance!"
Gerard grins his evil alien grin as he poses with Brian Freeman and his friend Kate. Little do these pathetic earthlings Know!

PHOTO BY JUDI ROHRIG

BOYS AND THEIR BOOKS
Of course, The Gathering was more than just business and
Alien conquest, it was also a place for writers to get together
and show off their new wares. Here Mason Winfield displays his new books. The something and the . . . er . . . something.

PHOTO BY MARK LANCASTER

THE TRUTH IS IN HERE
Contemplating the many human bodies that he will assimilate,
Gerard Houraner smiles wickedly, surrounded Left to Right by
Geoff Cooper, Ed Lee, Richard Laymon, Brian Keene, and Holly Newstein

PHOTO BY MARK LANCASTER

VINCE AND GEOFF PLANNING EVIL
Clearly there is something not right about the expressions on the faces of Vince Harper and Geoff Cooper.
Brian, still in a beer induced daze, ponders all the volumes of things that he meant say to Holly, the
Hellnotes interviewer. Lucky for her, she left before he could remember.
Mason just sits still for the camera.

PHOTO BY MARK LANCASTER

THESE ARE THE SERIOUS WRITERS
Geoff Cooper and Brian Keene, taking themselves
seriously as the Vanguards of modern Horror.

PHOTO BY MARK LANCASTER

AND THESE ARE THE IDIOT GOOFBALLS
That we've all come to know and love.

PHOTO BY MARK LANCASTER

Other reports on The Gathering

SORDID HIGHLIGHTS OF THE MoT USA GATHERING - KEENECON -
KEENECON 2000 - MASTERS OF TERROR / KEENECON