Drug-dealing ne’er-do-well, pimping hood, pornographer
Released from prison, a misanthrope vicious and perverse
Black-hearted hatefucker: Terry Hawkins?
Vengeance rising from speed and nihilism.
He wants to make some films, some really weird films.
Do you want to be in Terry’s films? And be his virgin bride?
Are they real? You bet your ass they’re real.
Terry is the answer, oh yes. Terry is the answer?
And he’ll laugh and he’ll laugh and he’ll laugh?
Welcome to Terry’s funhouse: abattoir-cum-set.
The Last House on Dead End Street.
Meet Terry and his family: Cuckoo Clocks of Hell.
Coming down fast, whores for revenge.
Deathtripping into the void — the other side of the screen.
Your mortal coil unwound, suffering your only motivation.
Lights and cameras and eyes without faces.
Sixteen-millimeter snuff: your immortal epitaph.
Surgical grotesqueries, a banquet of obscenity.
Butchery and cruelty: vivisection revelry.
Hacksaw amputation and sheer evisceration.
Your bloody offal used for Terry’s mis-en-scene.
Are you ready for your love scene: deer hoof fellatio?
No crying and no screaming — keep your mind on the movie.
Delirium heralds oblivion and this oblivion knows no «cut».
For there is no exit from the Last House on Dead End Street.
«999 years?"No! There is no way off Terry’s set.
Terry’s directing this fucking movie and you are his star.
He’ll show you. He’ll show you what he can do.
Because Terry is the answer, oh yes — Terry is the answer.
Celluloid depravity, murder is the artistry.
Grainy gore, the faded colors.
Echoing screams haunt the mind
Terry’s madness, burns the image
Violent death forever ingrained.
The Last House on Dead End Street
The funhouse of horrors
Cuckoo clocks of hell
Terry Hawkins is the answer X2
For there is no exit from the Last House on Dead End Street.
«999 years?"No! There is no way off Terry’s set.
Terry’s directing this fucking movie and you are his star.
He’ll show you, he’ll show you what he can do.