Just what the saucy fuck is Horribly Hooched?
WHY is Horribly Hooched?
Well, it starts with a brotherhood soaked in booze and long, late nights.
Bacchus and Romulus met in the dingy basement of a major video game company, testing games and bonding over beers and BBQ. Soon after becoming room mates, it was evident right from the get go these two punks would get up to something epic, something spoken of in hushed circles and screamed about in noisy bars, something so legen-fuckin-dary scholars would shit their stuffy britches.
One horribly hooched night, as the brothers sifted through hundreds and hundreds of horror films they’d already seen, it occurred to Bacchus –
“We should write this shit down.”
And so he did.
What began as an excuse to continue doing what they already were (drinkin and watchin) has since grown to mammoth fuck mountain proportions, larger and more important than either of them could EVER have imagined. The whiskey laden dream was coming into reality – in between jugs of scorpion wine and powerlifting cases of schlitz people started reading, and soon the beast consumed them.
The mission? To fuck shit up in the horror realm, dominate the scene, and raise up the champions of indie horror- inspiring by example. If one pissant author, actor, director, fuckin BOOT LICKER read or listened to something of ours and thought ‘shit snacks, I can do that’, we’ve already won. This train is only gaining momentum, so strap in and gird your loins – its going to be one HELL of a ride, and you’ve got first class seats.
Still, its not just Bacchus and Romulus drivin this hell hound. A few other brave souls hitched a ride and fed fuel to the fire, kickin out some of the tastiest word jams your blood shot eyes can handle.
Now, in their own words:
Slash on Saturdays
Sweaty’s Salacious Sundays (Demonsweat)
It began as most sordid things do, with alcohol.
There I was, milling about my duties in a lesser level of domestic hell, sweating over those mundane tasks, my days steeped in mediocrity and tiresome tranquility. It was a dismal, suburbanite future I envisioned, one steeped in endless PTA meetings and bake sales. I yawned, contemplating whether or not to stab myself in the eye, when who should descend but Bacchus, adorned in a stained toga, hair mashed against one side of his face. “Hey lady, you wanna worrrk f’me,” he slurred.
“Huh?” I said.
“I got booze,” he said with a toothy smile. And behold, he did pull from his folds the most divine of images, a flask of sweet, golden scotch. It whispered to my parched lips: aged eighteen years.
“Move over.” I leapt into his chariot and cranked up the stereo, Foreigner’s Double Vision. It seemed like a sign. As we swerved into the night sky, the planets themselves did align (or so our addled minds believed) and as the saying goes, the rest was inebriated history.
Congrats to Horribly Hooched for making it to one hundred posts! It’s been a blast and an honor working with the HH team. Cheers fellas – the next round’s on me.
Careful, Sweaty, you know we’ll take you up on that.
As part of this 100th post celebration, the wonderful word smith extraordinaire Lisa Fremont (a great friend of the HH crew) agreed to interview Bacchus about HH, and what it took to get where we are today.
Bacchus Interview, Part 1
Bacchus Interview, Part 2
Bacchus Interview, Part 3
If you made it through all three of those I applaud you.
We’re always busy here at HH, but we always have fun, and we have absolutely NO intentions of stopping.
So, subscribe to our YouTube channel
and we’ll see you sexy beasts in another 100 posts!!
If you have an indie project you’d like us to look at, drop me a line on Facebook, Twitter, or email, and I’ll be sure to check it out!
Check out Lisa Fremont’s work! http://www.horror-writers.net/
Categories: Fucked up Fridays