The Tingler
as a boy
I couldn’t tell the truth
if my life depended on it
not that I was a compulsive liar
or even lied that often
but under any sort of questioning
I was guilty
regardless of being innocent
Did you do that?
no – which was the truth
Go to your room
Until you are ready to tell the truth.
but
No buts. Now go you lying loser.
to avoid that banishment
I’d have to tell a lie
but I was even a worse liar
thanks to a movie I saw
where a sort of centipede
would materialize
around the spine
when you were scared
lying scared me
as much as telling the truth
I would feel those
million sharp legs
sinking into my back
my skin would tingle
The Tingler!
that’s what that movie was called
a lie would kill me
it would crush my heart
burst out of my nose
brain spattering everywhere
insect legs would dig out from my eyes
so I was afraid to lie
the punishment for telling the truth
was bad enough
not be be believed
not to be trusted was confusing
it was better to leave the room
let them think what they wanted
because the clearly truth
made no fucking difference
at that age
they made sure
I knew I was a lying loser
a useless dishonest kid
which I know now was a lie
and that’s the truth
I love this piece. I love performing this piece even though I can’t wire the occasional seat with one of the vibrating motors Willam Castle used when The Tingler was first released. I had seen a little more I wrote this piece so the images of the film were clear in my mind. Vincent Price was in fine form. The effects were decent considering the state of the art of the times. The black & white photography allowed things to look more realistic.
The piece gives the essential plot of the centipede that appeared around the spine during moments of extreme fear. Though as a kid when I first saw The Tingler on a Saturday matinee I didn’t think it was factual. But as a kid I was a bad liar & a bad truth teller as well. Of course then I didn’t the moral quandary I have in the poem.
I did experience belittling language from teachers, other kids & my Dad. I’m sure teachers & my dad didn’t have malicious intent though but things like ‘do you want to be useless all your life’ that were meant to make me work, study harder had the opposite effect. The wanted to toughen me up but all they did was convince they were right.
My Dad was convinced that one of those useless things was my interest in horror magazines – actually he said those magazines were useless. It was short jump from useless magazine to useless me. I poured over every issue longing for those model kits of Godzilla pulling a train apart, of the Wolfman howling at the moon. I don’t know if I ever got one of those monster kits. For birthdays I did get given some balsa wood kits for model airplanes, plastic kits for cars but was useless at getting them put together. If I still had my old issues of Famous Monsters I could probably buy a house.
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