It’s the 1950s. Your wife has just brought you your pipe and slippers. Your daughter just expressed an opinion so she’s on time-out sitting cross-legged on the floor. Life is good. Even if Betty Crocker over there did manage to burn the casserole. Looks like it’s whiskey for dinner. Again. You turn on your radio for an exciting night of imagination fun-time, when suddenly killer mutant spiders attack. They enter through the fireplace and even bring a large mutant housefly. For some reason, your daughter is playing with one. What do you do?
Apparently you just turn the volume up on the radio and try to tune it all out as you knock back a few glasses of whiskey. That’s just how you deal with stuff in the 1950s. Happened to my folks all the time. I was the kid playing with the spider. By playing I mean screaming in terror and asking daddy why he doesn’t help.
I wasn’t nearly as brave as that girl in this Retro Nightmare Print.
We would like to share with you the strange and mysterious case of a Mr. Charlie Gordon. He was a poor and unfortunate chap who met with an untimely ending and all that was left as evidence of his sad existence was