Part 2: FACE TO FACE WITH THE PENIS MONSTER

The Penis Monster

Troma Studios is located in midtown Manhattan, within spitting distance of MTV Networks and HBO. The building is a narrow four-story walkup, recognizable as a landmark only from the large painting of the Toxic Avenger on one of its outer walls. On the day of my visit, I cautiously made my way up the steep stairway to the offices on the second floor, not knowing what would greet me.

Luckily, the first thing to greet me was Megan, who handles Troma's marketing and promotions. She ushered me into a fascinatingly cluttered space that seemed to be equal parts office, college dorm room, video warehouse, and psychotic playpen. My head swam as I tried to take in the sheer number and variety of things: countless movie posters, props, piles of paper, toys from "Toxic Crusaders" (the cartoon series based on Toxic Avenger). There was a fake severed arm on somebody's computer. Split-open heads and bizarre puppets were stacked on almost every available surface.

Suddenly I caught sight of something on the wall above Megan's desk. "Is that . . . ?" I gasped? "Yup," she said proudly. "It's the Penis Monster from Tromeo and Juliet." Grinning broadly, she took it down from its mounting hook and put it on her arm and made it dance. Things were getting better by the second.

There were lights, cameras, and a lot of action going on in the next room, which turned out to be Lloyd's office. This was filming for "Troma's Edge TV", a series being created for Britain's tony Channel 4. According to the press release I'd received earlier, "Troma's Edge TV" "will put Troma's unique spin on such diverse topics as American politics and mass murder." I peeked in, saw utter mayhem being captured on film, and deeply regretted that all 20 half-hour episodes would only be shown overseas. It seemed like the perfect antidote to "Ally McBeal" and "Yes, Dear'.

Legendary Troma Studios, in the heart of Hell's Kitchen, Manhattan

Megan led the way up another incredibly steep flight of stairs to show me the distribution room. The doorway was partly blocked by the cans containing actual prints of Terror Firmer, which would be sent to theatres around the country. Among the stacks and stacks of tapes crammed onto the large shelves were Troma titles like Maniac Nurses Find Ecstasy, Class of Nuke ‘Em High 2, and my personal favorite, Fertilize the Blasphemous Bombshell. We backtracked through the debris and into an office, where a Troma Team techie was busily designing deranged animation for Tromaville.com. I got the mini-tour of this offshoot site (which I can recommend highly, especially its ongoing comic serial) and met a few more third-floor denizens. Megan gestured up the next flight of stairs. "The lawyers live up there," she said, somewhat ominously. Wisely, I passed on the chance to view The Lawyers and headed back down to the main floor to finally meet Lloyd Kaufman face-to-face.

Lloyd in person turned out to be even more manic than Lloyd on the phone. A short, nicely-dressed man who seems to have discovered the secret of perpetual motion, he greeted me enthusiastically and then rushed in to star in more Troma's Edge TV filming. I hung around for a little while longer, taking pictures and feeling pretty damn avant-garde. Suddenly, Lloyd's office door opened and I heard these magic words: "The guy who was supposed to hold the sign in this bit isn't here and we're stuck."

Lloyd looked over at me. "Wanna be on Troma's Edge TV?"

I swallowed hard, thought for a nanosecond, and then produced a perfect adult-sounding "Sure, I guess so."

Before I knew it, I'd signed a release and was standing on the set next to Lloyd, holding a Troma's Edge TV sign on camera. The bit, which was an intro to the main part of the episode, consisted of Lloyd ranting about the dumb ways celebrities managed to get themselves killed or injured and how much fun it was to watch them. My instructions were to start out happy and then get sadder and sadder as Lloyd's monologue went on. After a few takes, the camera guys pronounced the footage usable and I prepared to leave. "Wait," said Doug the camera guy. "We have to do the second bit." Second bit? "Don't worry," Doug assured me. "It's just like the first one. You keep getting sadder and sadder until you finally shoot yourself in the head. Not for real, though."

Could it be? Was I actually going to die for Troma? Was this the fulfillment of my long-cherished dream? Before I could think much more, the cameras were rolling and we were filming. Lloyd got more and more graphic about the stupidity of celebrities. I got silently sadder and sadder. Then, just when he was yelling "We're still alive! And isn't that what life is all about? Isn't it?" I shoved the sign into his hands, picked up a toy revolver, stared dramatically into the camera, and marched off camera to "shoot" myself through the head in protest. Lloyd ad-libbed "Oh my God! It's all over the rug!", the scene was over, and I was presumably dead and splattered gloriously all over the room. A perfect end to a near-perfect day in Tromaville.

Presumably, my five or six minutes of mime will put me well on my way to becoming a cult film figure . . . at least in England. But now that #7 on my Life's List has been crossed off, I'm getting restless. Guess it's time to work on #6: Dance wild fandangos on the grave of Billy Joel.