We’ve had more than our fair share of strange interns at the House of Horror over the years. There was that mouth-breather who smelled like formaldehyde, the guy who thought he was Hunter S. Thompson, and then the pack of feral rejects that we keep in the basement to perform menial tasks (like feeding the gnarly humanoid versions of the staff that we’ve manufactured to replace us when the zombie apocalypse happens).

Lately, however, we’ve actually been really fortunate to have had some awesome interns skulking around the building, including Patrick Dolan, the congenial gentleman who composed these two Cinemacabre reviews after we locked him in the chapel screening room with only a stack of ‘rays and whatever barely edible sustenance we could slide under the door.