Little Marcy: The Horror Continues...

See, this is why I don't do research. Sometimes there's just shit out there that you... and by "you" I mean "me"... don't need to find out. Like, for instance, that there's more Little Marcy albums, skulking around, inspiring children to rise up and slaughter their elders as a sacrifice to He Who Walks Behind The Toy Store Rows.

Look... know... fear:

Little Marcy Sings To Toddlers



That kid on the left is scared shitless, and rightly so. At the moment this photograph was taken, she was just beginning to feel the creeping tendrils of Little Marcy's power creep around her brain, choking from it all free will and rational thought. And that candy cane crone on the right... totally Little Marcy's Renfield. She knows well the taste of rats in a jail cell. Little Marcy keeps her around to run errands; pick up tiny dresses, shine her little shoes, pour the blood of the innocent down her throat with a funnel, etc.

Sing With Marcy



Why yes, that is an order. And if you don't, it's a sleigh-ride to hell and your soul in eternal bondage and a sharp blade dragged across your eyeball like in Un Chien Andalou, and that's just for starters. Lets not discuss what happens next. It'll only make you take your own life. Let's just say that it's a much better idea for you to sing. Loudly, and no crying. Everything will be fine. As long as you sing.

Sing-Along With Marcy



You're walking through the woods, lost, your campsite a memory, your companions long since departed for a Motel 6 off the interstate. You're hungry... thirsty... so tired and with sore legs and a mind reeling from the relentless dark. You feel the forest closing in around you, all you can hear is your heartbeat and... then... singing... sweet, lovely singing... children's songs, perhaps... and there, through the trees, a warm glow from a fire and maybe they've got food and shelter and a sleeping bag and thank god, you are saved!!! You enter into a small clearing, into the scene above. Little Marcy turns her head towards you. The singing continues. The Crone beckons. You step forward, no longer in control. You sit by the fire, by the fake, dead-eyed, deer. You eat something from a bowl and it tastes like blood. The singing never stops, never quiets, never... never... not even as The Crone rips the heart from your chest, slicing it up like an apple and feeding it to Little Marcy as she sings... she sings... she sings...

Marcy Sings To Children



The original title, "Marcy Commands Her Army of the Night" was scrapped. Too obvious.

Little Marcy Sings Sabbath Songs

(spoken through a slit windpipe) Oh... sweet... lord... she's learned our holy songs... we are doomed... run... RUN!!!

Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur Nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur Nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur Nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo.