Written by Jonathan Wojcik
THE CONVULSING NURSE
One of my favorite things at "Spirit" this year was so insane, I knew right away it would warrant a post of its own. Say hello to convulsing nurse:
Holy balls. I'd love to know what asshole got away with designing, pitching and successfully marketing a tortured, double-amputee nurse-monster for mass production, and I use "asshole" in only the most affectionate possible context. It's not just some grotesquely tasteless statue, either. It's called the "convulsing" nurse for a reason:
Somewhere, somewhere deep within the moldiest recesses of my brain, I feel like some tiny, timid little voice almost wants to squeak out something disapproving of Convulsing Nurse. It wants to ask whether a howling, mutilated woman bound by meathooks is going too far. It thinks I should feel guilty if I ever left this in my doorway to greet impressionable trick-or-treaters. It thinks I would probably land my ass on some sort of federal watch-list or at least get an intense finger-wagging from a local parent.
Fortunately, that's the same exact voice that tells me "dinner" is supposed to consistute at least one thing other than peanut butter cups, and that I'm over a decade too old to have a pokemon card in my wallet's Identification window, (it's Parasect) so why should I care what that buzz-kill thinks about anything? I'll admit, I'm usually a much bigger fan of lighthearted, whimsical horror than brutal, sadistic horror, but this guro-lover's dream date is just surreal and inhuman enough to hit all the same buttons as my favorite Silent Hill monsters or Jacob's Ladder moments, which is probably exactly what her designers were aiming for, if the broken grating she's displayed in wasn't a big enough tip-off.
I think if Convulsing Nurse were even marginally more human in appearance, she would definitely never fly with the general public. She's obviously closer to some Frankensteinien perversion of biological experimentation, or perhaps a spectral manifestation of someone's innermost psychological demons. Either way, her lack of eyes or arms is probably more for everyone else's safety than some cruel punishment. Odds are fairly low that this thing would put fully functioning manipulatory appendages to any constructive use.
This isn't a nurse that brings you lime gelatin or takes your temperature; this is a nurse that straps you down and fills your I.V. bag with wet rat droppings. A nurse who grossly overuses maggot therapy. A nurse who thinks delivering babies is supposed to go in the opposite direction and involve a staple gun at some point.
Better still, the Nurse also has an official, separately sold accessory - a bloody first-aid box with the same subtly distorted caduceus logo. Displayed side by side, I feel like the implication is that you'll press the button to try and find some band-aids or neosporin for the bloody apparition, but when you dare open the box....
WHAT!? THAT'S NOT FIRST AID AT ALL! Who's responsible for this?! Some manner of bogey monster? One of those awful skull guys? The average person has nowhere near enough medical training to do anything useful with such a selection of tools, and those body parts don't have any immediate application whatsoever.
This...this is practically LAST-aid!!!
You did this, didn't you? You thought it would be a barrel of laughs to make a good samaritan appear foolish. I see right through your kooky spook tricks, young lady, and I've half a mind to file a complaint with the head office, except I've already been there, and it's just a big squirming pit of umbilical cords that didn't even read my hand-written letter before brushing me off with some canned apology.
Why do I keep coming back to this hospital?!