The year was 1986 and for the at least 6 months the poster for Howard the Duck had been stuck to my wall. I couldn’t wait. Something in that one sheet had set my imagination ablaze. I mean look at it: an egg with a giant protruding duckbill, a cigar hanging loosely from it with titles set almost exactly like Indiana Jones. How could any 11 year old boy not be thrilled at what was coming August 1st?
To say that I was looking forward to that Friday was possibly the understatement of my childhood. And then it all went horribly, horribly wrong. I did something so terrible that I can’t even remember exactly what it was. The outcome however was my parents leaving me at home with my grandfather while they saw the movie without me. I was crushed. For the next three hours I cried, I kicked, threw my room apart and ultimately wore myself down to sleep.
Tonight, nearly 25 years later I finally got to see Howard the Duck.
What a fucking turd.