Blog-o-ween 2026: Playin' Chicken with Stephen King's Christine — Day 22

Part 3: Chapter 44

It is three weeks after their clandestine meeting, and Dennis and Leigh have fallen in love. During that time, Dennis sends Leigh to the Libertyville Municipal Offices to get two items: copies of the registration slips for Christine. The ages of those slips of paper are separated by over twenty-one years, but the signatures are a lot closer. Arnie’s signature on the slip from 1978 matches his first signature of Dennis’s cast. The signature on the slip from 1957 is by LeBay, and it matches Arnie’s second signature.

Needing more information, Dennis decides to reach out to George LeBay again. Not knowing his phone number, Dennis contacts one of the men from the Libertyville American Legion who had been at LeBay’s funeral. He hands Richard McCandless a song and dance about needing to talk to LeBay’s brother, and then McCandless, in turn, hands Dennis a story about the time Christine tore the finger off of a fellow veteran during a practical joke.

Some joke…

Oh, Dennis… oh, Leigh… I know that some things can’t be helped, but you two picked a fine time to…

Close, but no.

It’s like the poet once said, “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure.” Well, I’ll tell you this for free, if falling in love behind a friend’s back is the disease, then the threat of getting run over by his haunted car is the cure. The roll call of the dead — Moochie, Buddy, Richie, Darnell — would be enough to encourage me to keep it in my pants. (Maybe.) Of course, as another poet once said, “The heart wants what it wants,” so… well, so be it.

We get some more hoo-hah about Arnie and LeBay’s signatures merging, but — again — I don’t see it. I guess this is why I don’t work for the FBI.

Still and all, I love me a good trip to an archive or library for a research scene. We don’t follow Leigh to the Libertyville Municipal Offices (maybe we would have had this been a scene in Part Two), but we have the fruits of her labor.

While Dennis and Leigh are comparing signatures for their similarities, Dennis’s dad is noticing something different about Arnie:

“‘I’ve seen him two or three times,’ my father said.

‘You have?’ I said, startled. ‘Where?’

My father shrugged. ‘On the street. Downtown. You know. Libertyville’s not that big, Dennis. He…’

‘He what?’

‘Hardly seemed to recognize me. And he looks older. Now that his face has cleared, he looks much older. I used to think he took after his father, but now—’ He broke off suddenly. ‘Dennis, has it occurred to you that Arnie may be having some sort of nervous breakdown?’” (394)

Oh, yes, Mr. Guilder. The thought has crossed your son’s mind. Of course, you’d need to ask the follow-up question: whose nervous system is having the breakdown? That’s a question I don’t think the best minds in Vienna could answer.

Who knew ol' Siggy invented the "gangsta lean"?

When Dennis calls Richard McCandless to ask about George LeBay’s address, the older man is described as sounding like “Andy Devine and Broderick Crawford” (396).

Who and who?

Andrew Vabre Devine (Vabre? Vabre?) was an American character actor best known for his work in westerns such as Stagecoach (1939), The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962), and How the West Was Won (1962), as well as countless Roy Rogers films. He was also the voice of “Friar Tuck” in the Disney animated film Robin Hood (1973). Devine was also well known on the radio on such shows as The Adventures of Wild Bill Hickok, The Jack Benny Show, and Andy’s Gang.

It was thought that Devine’s distinctive voice — wheezy and crackly — would keep him out of the “talkies,” but just the opposite happened. Instead, it became his calling card. Devine claimed that his voice resulted from a childhood accident in which he fell while running with a curtain rod in his mouth. (Say what?!) The rod pierced the roof of his mouth, and he was left with a scratchy voice. However, it’s been discovered that this is just one of several stories that Devine invented about the source of his voice.

Broderick Crawford was also an actor with a distinctive voice. His distinct barking line delivery saw him cast in plenty of tough-guy roles. It was his portrayal of “Willie Stark” in the film adaptation of Robert Penn Warren's novel All the King's Men (1949) that lifted him out of character actor roles and into the big time. He won both the Academy Award and the Golden Globe for Best Actor. Later, he took on the starring role in the television series Highway Patrol (1955–59).

Crawford was born in Philadelphia, PA. (Maybe he was a Phillies fan?) His family were vaudeville performers. Despite his patchy formal education, Crawford was accepted by Harvard, but he only stayed for a few months. He left college to work as a stevedore on the New York docks. Somehow, the sound of his voice fits better on the docks than in classroom, I think.

When Dennis calls Richard McCandless, he tells the man that he wants to contact George LeBay, because he promised to send him research material on Ezra Pound.

Who now?

Ezra Weston Loomis Pound is a major figure in the history of American poetry, Modernism, and Fascist collaboration. Pound is best known for The Cantos, a poem written in 109 sections between the years 1915 and 1962.

Pound blamed the horrors of the First World War on finance capitalism. (Fair enough, says I.) In 1924, he moved to Italy and embraced both Benito Mussolini and Adolf Hitler. (Not cool.) During the Second World War, he recorded hundreds of paid radio propaganda broadcasts for the Italian government, as well as the Salò Republic (Italy’s later incarnation as a German puppet state). He attacked the United States government, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Britain, international finance, the arms industry, Jews, and others as abettors and prolongers of the war. At the war’s end, Pound was captured and spent months in a U.S. military detention camp near Pisa, including three weeks in an outdoor steel cage. Ruled mentally unfit to stand trial, Pound was incarcerated for over 12 years at St. Elizabeths Hospital in Washington, D.C. He died in 1972.

Well, that’s a bit of a bummer, ain’t it, Blog-o-weeners? I see the neon sign of our motel is coming up fast, so let’s try to end on a sweeter note than American Modernism’s troubled history of Fascist sympathizing. Let’s end on America’s troubled history of allowing our pop stars to act and our actors to sing. Let’s talk Dennis’s sister’s favorite singer, Shaun Cassidy.

While still in high school, Shaun Cassidy was signed to Warner Bros. Records, releasing five albums from 1976 to 1980. At about the same time, Cassidy starred (along with Parker Stevenson) in ABC-TV’s The Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries. Later, Cassidy turned his talents to writing and producing network and cable television programs. He created, amongst many others, the shows American Gothic (1995–1996 — produced with Sam Raimi) and Roar (1997 — starring Heath Ledger).

I have a confession to make, Blog-o-weeners. I had the 7” single of Shaun Cassidy’s hit “Da Doo Ron Ron” when I was a kid. Hey, wha’d’ya want? I was seven-years-old! I also had the KISS solo albums if that helps my “cool factor” any. (I know… it doesn’t.) I was also known to sing along with Joey Scarbury’s “Believe It or Not (Theme from “The Greatest American Hero”), dance to Ray Parker, Jr.’s “Ghostbusters,” and cry to “Snoopy's Christmas” by The Royal Guardsmen.

Again — wha’d’ya want from me?!

Sure I could say I was listening to The Ramones, King Crimson, and John Coltrane when I was seven, but that would be ridiculous. (I didn’t get into Coltrane until I was nine.) Instead, I’m taking this opportunity to allow myself to be vulnerable and admit to the bad taste of youth that we all experience. I’m sure there are some skeletons in your musical closet that you’re more than a little embarrassed by. It feels good to come clean, so be like me! After all…

Blog-o-ween 2026: Playin' Chicken with Stephen King's Christine — Day 21

Part 3: Chapter 43

After getting his parents and his sister out of the house, Dennis prepares for Leigh’s visit. Both Darnell and Vandenberg’s deaths are big news on television and the newspapers. Dennis senses that things are coming to a head.

Leigh arrives, and the two FVKs (Fearless Vehicle Killers) begin to trade information. They talk about the change in Arnie’s personality, his use of LeBay’s word “shitters,” and his obsession and anger that is so close to LeBay’s own. Dennis tells Leigh about LeBay’s daughter and how she died. Leigh runs to the bathroom and throws up.

Later, Dennis shows Leigh two segments of the cast that was on his leg. Both pieces carry the name “Arnie Cunningham,” but only one of them, Dennis is sure, was actually written by his friend.

Dennis and Leigh seal their conspiracy — as well as their fates (though they don’t know this yet) — with a kiss…

One quick bit of housekeeping before we get into today’s chapter.

As I said before, we are back to good ol’ Dennis Guilder’s narration here in Part Three. King himself has said that the switch from first-person to third-person was somewhat forced on him. He had written himself into a corner with the football injury that Dennis sustained at the end of Part One. Though he tried many times to stick with Dennis’s perspective throughout Part Two, nothing worked. The only way for Dennis to learn what was happening was for him to learn it from visitors or television or newspapers. That isn’t very dramatic. So, he said, “To hell with it,” and switched to third-person.

I think it was the smart choice. Sticking with Dennis may have worked if Christine had remained a short story, but in a novel the reader needs action to carry them forward. The change does beg the question, however: does Dennis learn any of what we learned in Part Two? If so, how? At the beginning of the novel, Dennis’s narration is presented to us as if he were writing it all down or telling it to us directly like two friends bellied up to the bar. Part Two removes us from that intimate proximity. We get more of a bird’s eye view of Libertyville and Arnie and Christine. Can Part Two be ignored and still leave us with a satisfying story? We’d still have to learn somehow about the deaths of Moochie and Buddy and Darnell, about Arnie’s arrest, about Junkins and his investigation, but I think it could have been done. How? King used “non-fiction” asides in his first novel Carrie. I think Part Two could have been done in the same way.

Of course, who am I to second guess the King?

Moving on…

Dennis is catching up with his schoolwork when Leigh comes calling. He says that he picks up a copy of Esquire and tries to read an article entitled “The Next Vietnam” (377). Just like Dennis’s luck in reading it, I had none in finding it. The closest I came was an article by the same name written by Col. Fletcher Prouty.

Leroy Fletcher Prouty was the Chief of Special Operations for the Joint Chiefs of Staff under President John F. Kennedy. A colonel in the United States Air Force, Prouty was a critic of U.S. foreign policy, especially the covert activities of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA). He also wrote extensively on the JFK assassination from the 1970s through 1990s. He was the inspiration for the character "X" (portrayed by Donald Sutherland) in Oliver Stone's film JFK (1991).

Prouty’s article “The Next Vietnam” was published in the September 1974 issue of men’s magazine Genesis. Somehow I don’t think Libertyville High has a subscription to that particular periodical.

If there is a reason that this chapter feels familiar, then you can probably thank the Netflix series Stranger Things. That show (especially the first season) owes a great debt to Stephen King’s work.

What we have here is the scene where separate characters come together to share information with one another. In much the same way as the kids and the adults in Stranger Things finally get their acts together long enough to exchange info, characters in many King novels do the same — the Fearless Vampire Killers in ‘Salem’s Lot, the kids (and their adult versions) in It. Here we have Dennis and Leigh finally debriefing one another about what they know and what they suspect about Christine. It’s a good scene!

One of the pieces of evidence that Dennis brings to the table is Arnie’s signature. I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again, I don’t think the two signatures are different enough to warrant Dennis and Leigh’s “gosh wow” reaction. I do like that we get actual signatures in the book. (I always like when the typeface in books changes or we get actual handwriting added to the printed words of the story.) I just think King and Co. could have made more of an effort to make them different.

Man, I am loving these single chapter days. Makes the drive so much nicer, don’cha think, Blog-o-weeners? Before we hit the next motel, I want us to talk about one more thing: icemakers.

When Leigh goes into the kitchen to get Dennis and herself a pop, she mentions that her family, too, has an automatic icemaker in their refrigerator. Man, growing up, I was always jealous of the kids whose families had them — that and the water dispenser. Holy smoke! So cool!

Dennis mentions that sometimes the icemaker goes out of control and starts shooting cubes every which way: “It’s like Jimmy Cagney in White Heat. ‘Take that, you dirty rats!”

Who now?

Sadly, James Cagney is one of those Golden Age of Hollywood stars whose work is completely unknown to younger moviegoers. At the height of his fame in the 1930s he was probably the biggest movie star in the world. He could do it all — sing, dance, play it tough, play it soft, be dramatic, do comedy. White Heat is a film he made later in his career in 1949. In a way, he was playing a caricature of the type of gangster character he made famous at Warner Bros. in the 1930s. If you've ever heard someone yell out “Top of the world, Ma!” they are referencing the character of Cody Jarrett, the movies’ second most famous momma’s boy (behind only Norman Bates). The line that Dennis quotes is one of the lines that impressionists from Rich Little to John Byner made famous when doing a Jimmy Cagney bit. Just like Cary Grant never said “Judy, Judy, Judy,” Cagney never said “You dirty rat”… though it’s pretty close to the actual line from Taxi (1931).

Okay! We are at the motel, and I am looking forward to a hot shower and a cold beer. For tomorrow, read Part 3: Chapter 44. We’ve got more signatures to compare and contrast. We’ll discuss Shawun Cassidy, Andy Devine, and Broderick Crawford. (Boy… would those three make for a wacky sit-com!) We’ll also hear another story from LeBay and Christine’s past.

Man, celebrity impressionists were all the rage when I was growing up. People like Rich Little made a fortune pretending to be other people on TV specials and game shows and the Carson show.

When I was a kid, Robin Williams was just making a name for himself as the alien Mork from TV’s Mork and Mindy. I did a pretty mean Mork impersonation on the school playground during recess, if I do say so myself. Friends would drag me to their homes and have me do my schtick in front of their bemused (and confused) parents. Now that I think back on it, I could have passed the hat after I was done and made a little scoot for myself. Of course, it’s easy to be smart after and tell yourself that…

Blog-o-ween 2026: Playin' Chicken with Stephen King's Christine — Day 20

Part 2: Chapter 42

A winter storm blankets the Pittsburgh area. In Darnell’s garage (which has been closed down by order of the Pennsylvania State Police), Christine’s engine roars to life. Her stick shift drops into drive, and she begins to motorvate.

First stop: Don Vandenberg, one of Buddy Repperton’s gang, is working the late shift at his father’s gas station. A car stops at the pumps furthest from the station’s office. Don tramps across the lot, blinded by the wind and snow. He steps up to the car’s driver side window and freezes. The corpse of Roland D. LeBay tells him to fill ‘er up. From the back seat, Buddy Repperton leans forward and offer’s Don a swig of Texas Driver. Don screams and runs for his life… which isn’t very long.

Second stop: Will Darnell sits at home watching A Christmas Carol (the Alastair Sim version, natch). A series of blasts from a car horn bring Darnell to his front window. Christine seems to be talking to him. As Christine crashes through the snow embankment at the mouth of his driveway, Darnell tries to call Arnie to tell him to call off his dog. Nobody’s home at the Cunningham’s. Darnell attempts to call the police, but his call is cut short when Christine burst through his front window. Trying to get to the attic of his house, Darnell has a heart attack. Christine pounces.

Last stop: Darnell’s Do-It-Yourself Garage. Christine returns to her burrow to rest. It’s been a long and busy night…

Winters in Pittsburgh are usually mild. Sure, we get a major snowfall once a season, but it’s par for the course. The roads get icy, schools either delay their openings or close altogether for the day, and you stay in and watch the soaps in the afternoon. No biggie.

The storm that covers Libertyville in snow feels a little different, a little more ferocious. It sort of reminds me of the Blizzard of…

…no… lemme finish… the Blizzard of 1993.

Saturday, 13 March 1993, is a day many Pittsburghers won’t soon forget. Nearly twenty-four inches of snow fell on the city in a single day. All major roads — the Pennsylvania Turnpike and interstate highways were closed. People were urged to stay safe and stay home.

Me? I drove to work.

At that time, I was living on Mt. Washington. I did not have a phone. (What a time!) I worked at a restaurant in Robinson Township, which is on the way to the Pittsburgh Airport. With no way for me to learn that the restaurant was closed, I drove (slowly) through the maelstrom to work. When I arrived, the parking lot was empty save for several tons of untouched snow. I turned around and drove to a local Eat’n Park for dinner. As soon as my meal was served, a PA State trooper came in and announced that they were about to close I-376. I wolfed down my fish sandwich and got back into my car.

By the time I got to Mt. Washington, it was impossible to make it up the steep roads back to my apartment. (I think if I were riding in Christine, we would have made it home, no problem.) So, I carried on through the Liberty Tunnels and headed to a friend’s apartment in Shadyside. I had to force my car into a snowdrift on a side street. (And hope to God there wasn’t a car already there buried beneath the snow.) I walked through thigh-high snow banks and knocked at my friend’s door. We watched the shitshow on TV and watched people cross-country ski down Fifth Avenue from her front windows. It was a helluva good time!

Say what you want about pornography (now how’s that for a segue?!), but at least Don Vandenberg is reading, amirite?

Crazily enough, this isn’t the last time we will take a look at paperback sex books in Christine (specifically) and in King’s other work (generally). Believe it or not, I have more to say on the subject in a later post.

After disposing of Don Vandenberg like a used tissue (pun intended, I am sorry to say), Christine goes cruising through the unplowed streets of Libertyville. Her pleasure cruise begins with these words from our faithful Third-Person Narrator: “Like Gaul, all of Libertyville Heights was divided into three parts (363).

Say what now?

Commentarii de Bello Gallico (or, if aren’t up on your Classical Latin, Commentaries on the Gallic War) was written by Julius Caesar as a defense of his conquest of Gaul. Threatened with prosecution for the abuse of his authority, Caesar knew he faced the stripping of his wealth and citizenship (amongst other indignities) upon his return from the West. In order to defend himself, he knew he needed the people on his side. (The dumb, stupid, easily led by the nose people.) So, he wrote his Commentaries (in 3rd person, mind you) to show that his efforts in Gaul were totally necessary and for the further glory of Rome. His “objective” account of his time in Gaul portrayed him as a military hero and great leader. Think of it as the YouTube video of the Roman Empire.

Caesar’s Commentaries have long been a favorite of Latin classes because of their straightforward, simple prose. It begins with the frequently quoted phrase “Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres,” meaning “Gaul is a whole divided into three parts.”

Now, what Julius Caesar is doing in Libertyville is beyond me, but I don’t fault ol’ Stevie for having a bit of fun. Lord knows I’ve dropped all sorts of literary references and song lyrics in my own writing — everything from “Subdivisions” by Rush to James Joyce’s Ulysses. I say just roll with it. I mean, at least it isn’t another reference to the Phillies, amirite?

I like that A Christmas Carol is an invisible thread connecting Arnie and Darnell. I’d like to think that Leigh and Dennis have it on in the background, too, but King doesn’t say.

It’s fitting that the most famous Christmas Ghost Story of all-time is playing as “The Ghost of Christmas Past” comes a-calling at Darnell’s house. Sadly for Darnell, I think that singing Christmas carols at his front door is the last thing Christine wants to do. Playing “The Carol of the Bells” on his head seems more of what she has in mind.

Even though we’re only dealing with a single chapter today, I think we still need to call it a night and pull over. The snow is coming down steadily and the roads are getting pretty dicey. Before we get to the motor lodge, however, I want to bring up one last reference that King makes.

I know what you are thinking: jeez, the attack on Darnell in his home has the same quality as the shark’s attack on Quint in Steven Spielberg’s Jaws (1975). Hey, why not? Jaws was a MASSIVE blockbuster hit. If King is gonna borrow from Caesar, why wouldn’t he borrow from Spielberg, as well?

Me? I’d like to think that King had another “When Animals Attack” movie on his mind during this scene. Released two years after Jaws, Orca (1977, Michael Anderson) is pure Grade-A Italian cheese from the great Dino De Laurentiis.

After watching Jaws in 1975, de Laurentiis called his writer buddy Luciano Vincenzoni in the middle of the night and told him to “find a fish tougher and more terrible than the great white.” Not knowing a darn thing about sea life, Vincenzoni’s brother Adriano (who dabbled in zoology) told him about killer whales, and a classic was born.

One of my favorite horror sub-genres is the “Jaws Rip-Off” movie. You got your classics like Orca and Barracuda (1978) and Piranha (1978). But the rip-off doesn’t stop at the water’s edge. Don’t like the ocean? Well, guess what? Filmmakers can take the basic structure of Jaws and apply it to any animal. Do you like spiders? How’s about Kingdom of the Spiders (1977)? Do you like bears? Here’s Grizzly (1976). Hell, we don’t even need a real animal. Do you dig Sasquatch? Have a Snowbeast (1977). How about a mutant-bear-thing that looks like it’s been turned inside-out? We got you covered with Prophecy (1979). They all essentially follow the Jaws story, and quite a few of them feature people in power assuring everyone that they will not close the beaches… or the ski slopes… or the lazy river… or the county fair… or…

Well, you get the idea.

Glad we finally made it to the motel. Man, I just want to crawl up on the couch with a hot toddy and watch the Penguins hockey game. While I’m relaxing and screaming at the TV, you need to read Part 3: Chapter 43. We are leaving the third-person narration behind and going back to the cozy, first-person environs of our old friend Dennis.

He’s out of the hospital now, Blog-o-weeners, though he’s still motorvating on a pair of crutches. Leigh pays him a visit at home while his parents are out. I wonder what they are going to talk about while sitting, oh, so close to one another on the couch? You don’t think Dennis would… nah… he wouldn’t do that, would he? Dennis and Leigh are about to learn a thing or two about Christine and Arnie, but I think it’s we the readers that are gonna learn a little lesson about what not to do with your best friend’s girl. Read closely, Blog-o-weeners, and pay close attention to Dennis’s actions, because…

Blog-o-ween 2026: Playin' Chicken with Stephen King's Christine — Day 19

Part 2: Chapters 40 & 41

Rudolph Junkins and his fellow Pennsylvania State Police Detective Rick Mercer are planning to drop the hammer on Will Darnell’s illegal operation. The first domino in the line is Darnell’s accountant — the one who lives in ritzy Sewickley. Next is Darnell himself.

The last to be picked up is Arnie. Driving Darnell’s car across state lines, Arnie is pulled over by the New York State Police. In a secret compartment in the trunk, the cops find a stash of illegal cigarettes. Arnie is arrested.

In custody, Arnie refuses to talk. Regina and Michael make the trip into New York with their lawyer, and — still — Arnie refuses to drop a dime on Will Darnell. He tells his parents that although he knew about the secret compartment in Darnell’s car, the authorities have to prove he knows. He doesn’t think they can do that.

Arnie is released into his parents’ care on $1,000 bail, and everyone returns to Libertyville. Arnie talks his mother into making plans for the entire family to go and visit Regina’s sister in Ligonier, PA, something of a annual Christmas Eve tradition. Arnie senses that it might be best for him to be out of town for the holidays.

On Christmas Eve, Leigh is frightened for her parents who have walked through the snow to a neighbor’s house for a cocktail party. Leigh can only imagine her parents being caught in the glare of a pair of dual headlights. Frantic, she calls Dennis and asks if they can meet after the holidays to talk… not about Arnie and his problems… but about Christine…

I’ve been pulled over for speeding once or twice in my driving life. (It’s a fair, cop!) I found the experience utterly terrifying. (I can’t begin to imagine the deeper levels of terror that black drivers feel.) When Arnie hears the cop car tell him to pull over, his imagination takes over:

“His panic-stricken mind spun up a kaleidoscope of jumbled images. College application forms with with words REJECTED—CONVICTED FELON stamped across them. Prison bars, blued steel. A judge bending down from a high bench, his face white and accusing. Big bull queers in a prison yard looking for fresh meat. Christine riding the conveyor into the car crusher in the junkyard behind the garage.” (338)

That Christine features in Arnie’s imagined “worst-case scenario” speaks to the levels that his obsession and addiction have taken him. Of course, it’s the LeBay inside Arnie that talks him off the ledge. LeBay assures Arnie that everything will be all right. In fact, it’s LeBay that the New York State cops hear when they ask Arnie for the keys to the trunk:

“‘Give me the keys, kid,’ one of the cops said.

“‘Why don’t you just get them yourself, you shitter?’ Arnie said.

“‘You’re not helping yourself, kiddo,’ the cop said, but he looked startled and a little fearful all the same, for a moment the kid’s voice had deepened and roughened and he had sounded forty years older and a pretty tough customer — nothing like the skinny kid he saw before him at all.” (339)

Just what is it about those cigarettes that Arnie is toting around in Darnell’s car that is so bad? (Aside from their cancer-causing abilities, natch.)

Taxes, baby, taxes.

In 1978 (when our story takes place, don’cha know?) the United States Congress enacted the Contraband Cigarette Trafficking Act. It was passed to prevent criminal organizations from trafficking in cigarettes and selling them on the black market to generate profits to fund criminal activities.

 

The Contraband Cigarette Trafficking Act makes it a federal crime to ship, transport, receive, possess, sell, distribute or purchase more than 10,000 cigarettes without tax stamps in the states which require tax stamps.

Although the cops that visited Bill Upshaw in his swank Sewickley home were federales, the cops that pull Arnie over in Port Jervis, NY (a real place some 100 miles north of Philadelphia), are a combination of Pennsylvania and New York’s finest. Not sure why the Feds wouldn’t have gotten involved in some interstate infractions, but I’m sure Arnie’s parents thank God for small favors.

 

It seems that Junkins is subconsciously beginning to see Arnie and Christine’s connection in the same way Darnell does:

“‘You don’t like that kid, do you?’ Rick asked.

“Junkins uttered a bewildered little laugh. ‘You know, the first time I kind of did. I liked him and I felt sorry for him. I felt like maybe he was covering for somebody else who had something on him. But this time I didn’t like him at all.’

“He considered.

“‘And I didn’t like that car, either. The way he kept touching it every time I thought I had him on the ropes. It was spooky.’” (332)

Spooky, indeed.

Junkins doesn’t know just how close he is to the truth. There is someone that Arnie is covering for, and it’s someone who has something in him, not on.

Much like Arnie’s trip to Albany, our trip today is a truncated one. I say we make good use of the extra time and enjoy all the amenities that the motel we are staying at offers. You can have the slippers, I want the terry cloth robe.

One last thing to talk about before we pull over, though — Ligonier, PA.

Where now?

Ligonier is a scant 45 mile drive from “Libertyville” (aka Penn Hills). Named after John Ligonier, a British noble of French origin who held the rank of Field Marshal in the British Army, Fort Ligonier was an important post for the British army during the French and Indian War. With the French controlling the Ohio River from their Fort Duquesne (now Pittsburgh), the British presence in Ligonier was necessary to drive the French out of the area. Indeed, the number of men maintained at Fort Ligonier — around 6,000 — made Ligonier the second-most populated city in Pennsylvania. Only Philadelphia at the time had more people.

Ligonier’s population since then has never been as high as that. Nowadays, 1,500 people call the small town that is often referred to as a real-life “Stars Hollow” from the TV show Gilmore Girls home. And if it’s Stars Hollow, then that can only mean one thing — Sebastian Bach must be wandering around!

I’ve got some big news, Blog-o-weeners! From here to the end of Blog-o-ween 2026, you will only need to read one chapter a night. That’s right! One chapter! I front-loaded this year’s Blog-o-ween knowing that folks are busy heading into the home stretch. There are costumes to make, parties to plan, houses to decorate… the whole megillah. So for tomorrow, all yinz gotta read is Chapter 42. The Ghost of Christmas Past is gonna pay Will Darnell a visit, and she’s a tad scarier than Angela Pleasance, lemme tell ya!

I myself am pretty busy with extracurricular activities for the rest of the month. I’ve got a full slate of movies to see — In the Mouth of Madness, Mr. Vampire 2, Let’s Scare Jessica to Death, and more. But the (blood) red-letter day on my calendar is the Horrorthon at the Aero Theatre.

This year is the 21st Annual Horrothon. I only attended my first one three years ago. The set-up every year is essentially the same: starting at 7 p.m. on Saturday night and leaving off some twelve hours and six movies later, the Horrorthon is an endurance event of cosmic and comic proportions.

Thinking of attending yourself? Ask around if people you know have survived the night. You’ll know who they are. They have a far-away look in their eyes, they say things like “MULTITASKING!” for seemingly no reason, they may have candy stuck in their hair or ground into the treads of their sneakers. Do some research first. It’s best to be prepared, and…

Blog-o-ween 2026: Playin' Chicken with Stephen King's Christine — Day 18

Free Day:

The Other Christines

on the Assembly Line

Even by the early 1980s, one would have been forgiven for thinking of Stephen King as a fiction factory. Christine was King’s thirteenth published novel to come off the assembly line. Since the release of Carrie in 1974, King had published seven other books under his own name and four under his pseudonym Richard Bachman. 

By 1983, King was a household name, and his brand of horror had changed the literary landscape. The movies hadn’t quite caught up with Stephen’s output, however. By the time of Christine’s (the book) release, Hollywood had adapted only four of his works: Carrie (1976, Brian De Palma), ‘Salem’s Lot (1979, Tobe Hooper), The Shining (1980, Stanley Kubrick), and Creepshow (1982, George A. Romero).

(Only Carrie and The Shining could be considered true “Hollywood” pictures. Tobe Hooper’s ‘Salem’s Lot was a two-part miniseries for CBS television — which was still seen as “lesser-than” when compared to movies — and Creepshow was an original screenplay written by King for Romero and producer Richard P. Rubinstein’s independent production company Laurel Entertainment. Pittsburgh ain’t Los Angeles, Blog-o-weeners.)

After Christine’s publication, that number would more than double over the next five years. During the 1980s, King was ubiquitous — bookstore shelves groaned beneath the weight of his bibliography, cinema screens ran red with movies that ran in the black. Heck, even innocent TV viewers weren’t safe:

John Carpenter’s career, too, began in 1974 with the release of his science fiction comedy Dark Star. In 1978, he re-wrote the rules of both horror and independent filmmaking with Halloween. His career seemed on an ever-upward trajectory with popular and critically acclaimed hits such as Assault on Precinct 13 (1976), The Fog (1980), and Escape from New York (1981). That is until the release of his remake of Christian Nyby’s The Thing from Another World (1951). The Thing (1982) was (at the time) a misstep. Deemed to be too downbeat for the audiences that made Steven Spielberg’s E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial such a hit, Carpenter’s gory film has since been reevaluated and is now considered to be a classic of the science fiction/horror genre.

Come 1983, Carpenter’s career was a bit wobbly. Two other projects that he had in the pipeline — adaptations of another of King’s novels, Firestarter, and Eric Van Lustbader’s The Ninja — were delayed. (Neither would be released under Carpenter’s guidance.) Carpenter needed the work; Richard Kobritz (Christine’s producer) needed a director. The two men had previously worked together in 1978 on the made-for-TV movie Someone’s Watching Me.

Along with screenwriter Bill Phillips, Carpenter began the job of adapting a novel that hadn’t even been published yet. The film’s budget was just under $10 million, which was less than what he had to work with on The Thing, but more than he spent on all of his previous movies combined. (The average film budget of an independent movie in the early 80s was around $2-3 million. Even big movies in 1983 — Return of the Jedi, for instance — had small-ish budgets of around $30 million. Peanuts when compared to the dollar-gobbling behemoths of today.) Still, the budget was small enough to allow Carpenter what he values most as a director: freedom.

I think Carpenter’s Christine is a model of efficiency when it comes to adaptation. Anytime you are charged with turning a 526-page book into a 110-page script (following the industry standard of one page equally one minute of screen time), you are going to have to make some hard choices. From the get-go, Carpenter and Phillips show that they are unafraid to make those hard choices. Within the first minute, they clear up the confusion of where the evil resides in the story. Throughout Blog-o-ween, I’ve been trying to figure it out — is it LeBay or Christine? Carpenter and Phillips cut through the knotty issue by showing us that it is Christine herself. To the pulsing boogie backbeat of George Thorogood and the Destoyers’ “Bad to the Bone,” we are shown that even before leaving the assembly line (which was merely an abandoned furniture factory in Irwindale, CA) Christine just ain’t no damn good.

Other scenes, as well as characters, from the book are combined and compressed to fit the film. Arnie’s confrontation with Buddy Repperton happens on the first day of school before he’s even found Christine. (Good work, Buddy, for getting expelled on the first day — that’s gotta be a record.) Roland D. LeBay and his brother George are smooshed together into the actor Roberts Blossom. Leigh’s near death experience happens at the drive-in not on the side of the road. There a more examples I could choose, but it all boils down to Carpenter’s ability to… well… boil down the story to its essentials. I think young filmmakers who are looking to adapt other media into a movie could do worse than study Carpenter’s work on Christine.

Christine did well enough at the box office. It pulled in around $21 million over seven weeks. Good, but not great numbers. Audiences liked it fine. Critics were relatively kind. Carpenter has been quoted as saying,

“I like it. I like it a lot. For reasons like the cast. I really dig them. And the car. It was fun. It’s not one of my favorites of mine, but that’s OK. It’s a good movie.”

Stephen King himself, sadly, said that Carpenter’s Christine and Kubrick’s The Shining were the only film versions of his work that had actually bored him.

Ouch!

There has been talk in recent years of there being a remake in the works, but isn’t there always talk of that? The last time Christine’s name rose from the graveyard of dead projects was 2023. Blumhouse Productions announced that they are developing the film with Bryan Fuller (Pushing Daisies, Hannibal, etc.) as director. Nothing has happened yet. With the new Carrie remake doing well, maybe we will see Christine on the road sooner rather than later.

While Blumhouse gets its act together, we can enjoy other versions of King’s story. Sadly, there is no BBC Radio adaptation of Christine like there is for ‘Salem’s Lot. (I’m not sure how well an audio dramatization of Christine would work.) There is, however, a pretty good audiobook version from Simon & Schuster. (Look for it at your local library!) Holter Graham takes the wheel for the narration, and he does a pretty good job of it. He even attempts a Pittsburgh accent, most notably in the early scene where Arnie and Dennis change one of Christine’s tires in front of a house of yinzers. Not bad… but still not perfect.

I think if another audiobook is produced, then they should give the keys to Curt Wootton, better known on the internet as “Pittsburgh Dad.” He’d nail those accents!

There’s one last “adaptation” I want to talk about before we pull over and call it a night. The Stephen King Book Club has been creating videos on YouTube since 2022. They run the gamut from Top Ten lists to movie reviews to deep dives into characters and settings of King’s novels and short stories. Last year, they released a pair of videos about Christine. The first, entitled “Christine: Solving the Mystery of the ‘Evil Car,’” discusses one of the conundrums that I’ve been trying to get to the bottom of — namely, who is really in the driver’s seat: LeBay or Christine?

It is the channel’s second video that I want to bring to your attention. “A True-Crime Retelling of CHRISTINE: Stephen King's Cursed Car” is a pretty ingenious adaptation of the novel. Formatted as your typical true crime podcast, this video tells the story from outside the narrative of King’s book. I’d like to see more of this kind of approach with some of King’s other stories. One of my favorite audio drama podcasts of all time is The Black Tapes. This podcast had the feel of an NPR show, and it produced a lot of shivers up and down my spine. Man, a true-crime investigation into the events of The Shining, ‘Salem’s Lot, Carrie, or It could be a lot of fun.

You know what else is a lot of fun? Unwinding at the motel after a long day’s driving. I’ll order us food from room service, while you get to work on tomorrow’s reading: Part 2: Chapters 40 & 41. It’s Christmas Eve, and good ol’ Arnie’s luck finally runs out, Blog-o-weeners. That’s what you get, I suppose, for driving hundreds of miles all over the darn place.

That true crime rendition of Christine has me thinking of other pseudo-documentaries. My favorite ever is one that Animal Planet and the Discovery Channel aired back in 2012. Mermaids: The Body Found (and its sequel that aired the following year Mermaids: The New Evidence) follows the story of a scientific team's investigation into the source behind mysterious underwater recordings of an unidentified marine body.

It was all so silly, and I gotta admit that I loved it. (I thought it would make a great remake of The Creature from the Black Lagoon.) Those who bemoan the lack of skepticism in the culture and the deterioration of scientific eduction didn’t love it so much, however. Many who watched the shows were unable to separate fact from fiction and believed what they were watching was a factual documentary. I often wonder if politicians and the like pay close attention to these historical moments when the population is willing to believe anything so long as it is portrayed in a realistic manner. I mean, for those who are interested in pulling the wool over the electorate’s eyes, it’s a teachable moment and…