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Page 1 of 5 ON THE SET OF SKELETON KEY 3 It was a perfect pre-summer day in Luray, Virginia, and I was attempting to peer into the window of an abandoned old house in the woods. I say attempting, because the window was long since opaque with dust and weather damage, and could not be seen through. Thorns were stabbing through my jeans and pricking my legs, and the sun was beating down on my black and blue face, but I knew there were brains in there and I was powerless to escape their elemental pull. A man in a ratty old black overcoat came striding purposefully by, and I called out, “This really hurts, John.” Without so much as a pause he threw me a thumbs up sign and said, “Excellent!” and continued on around to the other side of the house. I should have eaten his spleen.
Yes, I was a brains-craving zombie, but only for John Johnson’s Skeleton Key 3: The Organ Trail. When I read a blog issuing the call for zombie extras, I didn’t hesitate for a nanosecond before putting my name in the hat. Drive for seven and a half hours to stalk around under the southern sun for a possible thirty-second appearance in an ultra-low budget campy comedy-horror flick that maybe one hundred people will ever see? Yes, ma’am. Sign me up with no delay.  | The scary thing is, the above sentiment is issued without the barest trace of irony or sarcasm. I honestly got excited by the prospect. You see, independent features are my favorite kind, especially horror films, and especially ones done by companies who make an honest commitment to what they do. Those guys are hungry, and it shows. Say what you will about the production values and suspect acting talent, but you can never say that blood, sweat, and tears are not poured into these efforts.
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This is the way I explained my ridiculous urge to be a part of this film to the many, many people who told me I was crazy: imagine you are given an opportunity just such as mine, to be a zombie in an independent film. You decline. You don’t have the time, or it just seems like a waste of effort. Now imagine that film turned out to be Night of the Living Dead, and forty-years later it is still one of the most influential films ever made. Now, I’m not saying that Skeleton Key 3 will be as influential or enduring a NOTLD, I’m just saying that you never know. (Also, I met my girlfriend when I drove seven-hundred miles away to see an unsigned hardcore band play a twenty-minute set. So you really do never know what is going to happen. The past five years of my life would have had much less quality to them if I hadn’t taken a chance that weekend) So, armed with a bagful of horror/sci-fi-themed CDs and my trusty accomplice and brother Roger, we set out on our excursion. As soon as we crossed the Virginia line we parked our asses at a Denny’s for a meal, and I rudely answered my ringing cell phone at the table. It was David Simmonds, Nicopernicus from the Skelton Key films himself, informing me of a piece of information that turned out to be incredibly important: the address Rog and I were given for the gig was a McDonald’s parking lot. We never, ever would have found the place had we not known that.
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