At times like these, it's important to check in on our friends and loved ones. But what about our villains and murderers, we ask? What of them?
Luckily, our favorite horror movie killers have pulled out their best Moleskines and Cher Horowitz-esque feather pens and are keeping daily journals of their quarantine experience.
Supernatural serial killers: they're just like us!
I've been quarantining for two months and boy are my arms tired! Haha, it's good to laugh. Seriously, though, this social distancing thing is rough. Did you know COVID-19 is contagious in dreams? I didn't. I still don't. But it might be. And I don't want it. My lungs are compromised due to being so very dead. I can't die again, that's overkill.
So instead I'm taking pains to reopen my business. My murder business. My sleepytime night-night murder business. For the economy. I've added fingers to my knifey gloves, I've invested in masks (there's a hole for my tongue to do that phone thing, obviously), I even washed my sweater for the first time in 40 years. Your death will be within all government regulations and recommendations, that's the Freddy Krueger promise.
I've gotta admit, Diary, I'm kind of nervous here. Between Comic-Con being canceled this year and every state enforcing this whole social distancing thing, I'm starting to wonder if something else might be on the chopping block next. That's right: I'm talking about October 31st, Halloween, aka MY TIME TO SHINE.
Halloween's been my day since the beginning! It's an important time for me, and not just because I love putting on my favorite mask and going out amongst the people — and speaking of masks, everyone's wearing one now. It kinda makes me feel... I don't know, a little less special.
I can't just pick any other day to commit my annual murder spree of horny babysitters. You think anyone cares about what happens on October 30? Exactly.
I love my family. You know that. But togetherness is taking its toll. Grandpa isn't getting any stronger and of course I am the one who has to cut his meat, hammer his skulls, stretch his skins over our faces for fresh masks in accordance with medical recommendations, it's just so dull! I feel like Belle, trapped in this poor provincial town (house/murder factory), every day the same! My brothers won't stop teasing me — "nice haircut, Junior," "clean your apron, Junior," DON'T THEY UNDERSTAND I AM AN ARTIST? A POET? You know what they say about family, though — can't live with them, can't eat them for lunch like some kind of hitchhiker, amirite? Anyway, back to my Felicity bingewatch. I hope she chooses Noel.
Dear Jason's Journal,
Looks like it's another summer wasted, but the truth is I can't say I mind it all that much. How many times have these horribly misguided youths gotten it into their heads to try and reopen the camp? These children, they'll never learn their lesson, not until Mother teaches it to them the hard wa—
MOM SERIOUSLY GET OUT OF MY JOURNAL I'M NOT GONNA TELL YOU AGAIN
Another day in blissful solitude. I've always been a creature of habit, and my best ideas come to me when I've got nothing but time on my hands. So I've been taking advantage of working remotely to put some of my more long-game plans into action. I'm just waiting for the right time to unveil them.
It's not as if anyone expects me to have anything new ready right now; we're all under a great deal of stress and anxiety, and if I have to hear that bulls*** about Shakespeare writing King Lear in quarantine one more time, mark me, that person is ending up in the trap first.
Billy the Puppet
This is RIDICULOUS. Jigsaw sits at home working remotely while I am considered essential, rolling into these condemned houses and dealing with UNMASKED, UNGLOVED PEOPLE? Without even a Bath and Body Works hand-sani to help me out?! I knew I should have unionized with Slappy from Goosebumps and that puppet from Tales from the Hood years ago. I will not risk my tiny body so that he might destroy theirs! I get it, Jigsaw, you're immunocompromised BUT I DO NOT EVEN HAVE LUNGS. Will no one think of the puppets? I may be a doll, but I'm no dummy. VIVA LA REVOLUTION!
Editor's note: Mr. Pinhead's entry has been redacted due to being way, way too into this virus.