
Interview: Will Penny and Nik Poliwko of “Tiki Surf Witches Want Blood”
As horror fans we are often drawn to the little things. Covers and titles are hugely influential to many of us, particularly as we seek to expand our horror experiences. For many folks of my generation we remember the joy of walking down the horror aisle of the local Blockbuster Video or spinning the racks of comics at the local book store. So, when I came across a booth at WonderCon 2019 for a group called Sex and Monsters, and read the title of a comic called Tiki Surf Witches Want Blood, I was intrigued.
I am pleased to reveal that that title is exactly what you get with this comic and more. You not only get Tiki Surf Witches, but blood craving, and even better, a whole array of tasty recipes for great island drinks! I reached out to the team behind the comic, Will Penny (the writer) and Nik Poliwko (the artist), with some questions, and as a bonus we even have a preview of the book, exclusively for Haunted MTL. Oh, and beware, the comic is NSFW for blood, breasts, and witchcraft.
Interview
Will, where did the idea come from to mash up a horror story and cocktail recipes?
Will: I’ve always been into the horror genre, but back in 2016 I was really getting into tiki culture too. So I thought it’d be fun to create a tiki-themed horror comic. While I was brainstorming story ideas (and probably after too many rum cocktails) I struck on the idea of creating a comic book that also doubled as a cocktail-recipe book. I figured the combination would create a bit of extra escapism for readers.
Will, the story has a very old school feel to it, what horror works and/or writers influenced you as a writer on this project, Will?
Will: The story probably gets its “old school feel” from the fact that I decided to write something that wasn’t too cynical.
Tiki culture has its roots in the ‘30s, when Donn Beach created the first tiki bar in Hollywood, but things really took off for “tiki” in the ‘50s, after American GIs returned home from war, having served time in the South Pacific. So when I decided to make a tiki-themed comic, I wanted the artwork to serve as a visual reference to that specific time period. So the “look” of the book is definitely inspired by all those classic EC horror comics from the ‘50s. Fortunately, I was lucky enough to have Nik Poliwko illustrate the book, who really nailed the visual vibe I was shooting for.
In regards to the actual story, I was inspired by a lot of late-night b-movies – particularly the work of Roger Corman and Del Tenney. But I also wanted to make sure the story would stand on its own merits and not just be something that MST3K could lampoon. So I tried to make sure each of the characters – particularly the female characters – had their own specific traits and motivations that would move the plot forward.
My real goal (and challenge) was to use the visual language of black-and-white b-movies and pre-code horror comics to tell an engaging (and even romantic) story that could still appeal to a modern audience.
Nik, your illustrations have a very classic, E.C. Comics style to them, were those comics a primary influence on you?
Nik: Love the EC stuff, although the Warren mags (Creepy, Eerie and Vampirella) were more prominent for me. My influences tend to be more the artist than the comic, and a few EC artists do show up. Russ Manning would have to be my first major influence, followed by Alex Raymond, Hal Foster, Will Eisner, Al Williamson, Frank Frazetta’s comic work, and of course Wally Wood. On the horror side of things, Bernie Wrightson would be a major influence, on the EC side of things it would be Jack Davis’ horror work, Graham Ingels and Bernie Krigstein. Some others would be Jack Kirby, Jim Steranko and Barry Windsor-Smith.
Will, Are there any other plans for tiki-influenced horror projects?
Will: Yes! On June 1st we’ll be launching our first Kickstarter campaign to fund the creation of a “magic” Zombie cocktail glass. Donn Beach created the original Zombie cocktail back in 1934, and traditionally served it in a tall chimney-style glass. The drink was so popular that the glassware it was served in became known as a “Zombie glass.”
So I’m working with Nik Poliwko again to develop an authentic-style Zombie glass that will incorporate Nik’s fantastic artwork and — for the fist time ever — will cause the dead to rise whenever a cocktail is poured into it! It’s going to be a real fun (and functional) art piece for anyone who likes horror, tiki culture, zombies, or just wants to drink cocktails while learning how to raise the dead!
I don’t want to give away too many more secrets or surprises, but if people want to stay up-to-date on this project, they can follow us on Instagram @sexandmonsters or sign up for our newsletter here.
Nik, your work is recognizable from The Creeps Magazine, do you have any particular stories you contributed to for the magazine you’d want people to check out?
Nik: Heh… people should check out ALL my stories in The Creeps! A few faves of mine include issue 11’s “If You Knew Sushi,” written by Don Glut, “Mary Shelley in Frankenstein’s Castle,” in issue 12, written by Nicola Cuti, and another Cuti masterpiece, “Graveyard Dance,” in issue # 13, which reveals the origin of “The Old Creep,” the host of The Creeps. And another Don Glut thriller, “Interview with a Werewolf” in issue 15.
Of the cocktails in the book, what is your personal favorite?
Will: My personal favorite tiki cocktail is the Zombie! Not only because it’s a strong and well-balanced drink, but it also has a rich and fascinating history (that people can read more about in Sippin’ Safari by Jeff Berry).
I’m also partial to the Surfer’s Blood – the climax cocktail of the book. It’s inspired by a type of Mai Tai served at Old Tony’s — one of my favorite bars in Redondo Beach, CA. It’s boozy and tart, and includes a “secret ingredient” called kook juice (a mix of Tang and sparkling lemonade)!
Nik: I’d have to say I love me a good “Zombie,” with “R.I.P. Tide” coming a close 2nd. Really hard to pick favorites as all the recipes are so good!
Will, Can you talk to us a bit about the origins of Sex and Monsters? What does the future hold for the studio?
Will: Sex and Monsters was just a silly name that I came up with for my personal webcomic about 10 years ago. But after awhile, the name grew into its own publishing brand, and now I work with a variety of artists and writers to make a bunch of fun stuff.
After we launch our “Zombie glass” Kickstarter, we’ll be publishing a comic adaptation of Edgar Allen Poe and H. P. Lovecraft material, we’ll also be featuring more work by the extremely talented and hilarious Alison Zai, and finally we have a soundtrack to “Tiki Surf Witches Want Blood” coming down the pike — a 7 inch vinyl record by our pals Dom Kreep and the Grim County Coroners.
Nik, were your illustrations for Tiki Surf Witches Want Blood traditionally done or digital? Do you have a preference for most of your work?
Nik: “Tiki Surf Witches…” was all digital, as is all my work these days. I’ve worked traditional for many years and when I picked up a Wacom Cintiq tablet back in 2010, it’s been digital ever since. Personally I love it, and at this point, prefer it over drawing on paper.
Will, what is it that you think allows horror and sexuality to blend together so effectively?
Will: I’m by no means an expert in this field, but I imagine the combination of sex and horror in fiction has been around since people first started telling stories. We certainly see this combination presented in the subtext of Victorian era Gothic fiction (like Dracula), and we see it become more overt in the early 20th century with pulp detective novels. In fact, the very first horror comic book published in 1947 – Avon’s Eerie Comics #1 – combined elements of sex and horror on its cover through the juxtaposition of a menacing ghoul and a scantily-clad female.
But I wasn’t really thinking about this history when I chose the name “Sex and Monsters” for my publishing company. I just thought it was a catchy name, and would let people know right off the bat that we’re not afraid to produce stuff that’s a bit offbeat or more quirky than mainstream publishers. And even though the name may imply that our work features gratuitous nudity and violence, I try to invert those expectations, and present the elements of sexuality and horror in a way that has purpose, or is in service to the overall story we’re trying to tell.
…Of course, it’s always fun to be a little gratuitous once in awhile too!
Preview
Enjoy this preview of the bloody fun inside Tiki Surf Witches Want Blood, including the recipe for the classic island cocktail, The Zombie!
Oh, and beware the boobs!
Thanks for reading, and stay tuned for more interviews here at Haunted MTL.
Book Reviews
A Stellar Debut Novel, We Used To Live Here
Imagine this. You’re home alone, waiting for your partner to return, when you hear a knock on your door. You answer it to see a family of five, bundled up against the cold. The father, a kindly older gentleman, explains that he used to live in this house as a boy. And he would love to show it to his family.
Do not let them in.
The story
Released in June 2024, We Used To Live Here is author Marcus Kliewer’s debut novel. It tells the story of Eve, who just purchased a beautiful house with her partner, Charlie. Their plan is to flip the house and sell it.
One night, while waiting for Charlie to come home, Eve is surprised by a knock at the door. It’s a man named Thomas Faust and his family.
Thomas explains that he grew up in the house and hasn’t been in the area in years. Would Eve let them in so that he can show the home to his children?
Against her better judgment, Eve lets them in. She regrets this almost at once when Thomas’s daughter vanishes somewhere into the house.
What worked
I always appreciate a book that allows you to play along with the mystery. And this book does that better than just about any other I’ve seen.
Pay close attention to the chapters, to the words that aren’t there. To everything about this novel.
This is mostly down to Kliewer. This is ultimately his work of art. But the production value is also fantastic. I don’t want to ruin the multiple mysteries, so I’ll just say this. There are clues in this book that require some specific artistic choices in the page layouts in this book. And I loved that.
If you’d like to experience another horror book review, check out this one.
We Used To Live Here is also the kind of story that makes you question everything right along with the main character, Eve. Eve is a great main character. But she might be an unreliable narrator. She might be experiencing every single horror described, exactly as it’s described. Or, she might be having a psychotic breakdown. Through most of the book, we can’t be sure. And that is so much fun.
Finally, the weather plays a large part in this story. There are several stories in which the weather or the land itself could be considered a character. Even an antagonist. This is certainly one. The winter storm is the thing that traps the family in the house with Eve. It also makes escaping the home difficult. Reading this book during the winter was especially impactful. Most of us know what it feels like to be shut in by a storm. I’ve personally lived through some of those storms that are just referred to by their year, as though they were impactful enough to claim the whole 365 days for themself. And that was with people I liked. Imagine what it would feel like with strangers. It’s a staggering thought and one that we explore in depth in this book.
In the end, We Used To Live Here is a fantastic book. It’s the sort of story that sneaks into your brain and puts down roots. And if this is just the first book we’re getting from Kliewer, I can’t wait to see what else he comes up with.
Book Reviews
Exploring real terror with The House of My Mother
As a disclaimer, this is a review of The House of My Mother from a critical perspective. I will not be discussing my opinions of the legal case against Ruby Franke and Jody Hildebrandt. I will be discussing the merits of the book as a work of true crime alone.
In 2015, Ruby Franke started a YouTube channel called 8 Passengers. In August of 2023, Franke and her business associate Jodi Hildebrandt were arrested for, and later plead guilty to, charges of aggravated child abuse. And in January of this year, Shari Franke told her story in The House of My Mother.
The story
The House of My Mother is the true story of Shari Franke, the oldest child of one of the most famous family vlogger families.
As a child, Shari came to the conclusion that her mother didn’t like her. Soon, she began to fear her mother’s anger.
Things got significantly worse when Ruby started their family vlog. All of the families most intimate moments were splashed across the internet for anyone to watch. This became a living nightmare for Shari.
Of course, that was only the start of the family nightmare. Because Ruby was about to meet someone who would reinforce all of the darkest parts of herself.
Eventually Shari manages to escape her home. But her younger siblings were still in her mother’s clutches. She had to save them, and her father, from the monster her mother had become.
What worked
Through the book, Shari only ever mentions the name of one of her siblings, Chad. This is because Chad is the only of her siblings that is an adult at the time of the publication.
There are children involved in this story. Children who’s lives and privacy have already been damaged. Shari didn’t want to do that to them again, and neither do I.
It probably won’t surprise you that this book is full of upsetting details. But not in the way you might imagine.
Nowhere in this book will you find gory details about the abuse the Franke kids suffered. And I consider that a good thing. Those sort of details are all fun and games when we’re talking fiction. When it’s real kids who are really living with the damage, it’s not a good time.
What you’ll find instead is a slew of more emotionally devastating moments. One that stuck with me is when Ruby’s mother gives her a pair of silk pajamas as a gift after Ruby gave birth to one of her babies. Shari asks Ruby if she’d bring her silk pajamas when she had a baby. Ruby responds that yes, when Shari becomes a mother they can be friends.
What a lovely way to make a little girl feel like she’s not worth anything unless she reproduces. And, if she does decide to have children, who is going to bring her silk pajamas?
In the end, this isn’t a story about ghosts or demons. It’s not about a serial killer waiting on a playground or in the attic of an unsuspecting family. Instead, this is a story about things that really keep us up at night. It’s the story of a woman so obsessed with perfection that she drove away her eldest daughter. The story of a young woman who’s forced to watch from afar as her beloved brothers and sisters are terrorized and abandoned. These are the sorts of things that really keep us up at night. These are the real nightmares.
More than that, though, The House of My Mother is a story of survival. It’s about a family that was ripped apart and somehow managed to stitch itself back together again. It’s about a brave young woman who managed to keep herself safe and sane in the face of a nightmare. If you haven’t read it yet, I can’t recommend it enough.
For more like this, check out my review of Shiny Happy People.
Book Reviews
Book Review of Boreal: an Anthology of Taiga Horror
Boreal: an Anthology of Taiga Horror is a collection of twenty-two haunting tales that dwell in the deepest darkest woods and frozen wastelands, edited by Katherine Silva and including Haunted MTL’s very own Daphne Fauber. Each story has even been gifted with its very own poster, hinting at the horrors to be found within it, bestowing a beautiful visual collection as well.
The tales are varied and touch upon the environment in new and different ways, each hearkening to a sort of epiphany or raised awareness. These stories exude both dread and wonder at the smallness of our human existence in contrast to the sacred world we have isolated from, sheltering ourselves in our comfortable houses with centralized heat and everything we could possibly need or want at the ready. The taiga becomes a sanctuary outside of our own dulled awarenesses. It is a holy place imbued with powers beyond mortal human reach, a wilderness that threatens to swallow us – both whole and bit by bit, simultaneously.
The protagonists enter into this realm through ritual, superstition, longing, stubbornness, and their own hubris – yearning to survive its dangers, and to make their own marks upon it. The starkness of their surroundings harbors delicate moments that would be all too easily missed if not deliberately sought or pointed out. The softness of fur, the dappled sunlight shining through trees, the hazy clouds of breath forming in crisp air, the brittleness of bleached bone… those quiet experiences that beg to be forgotten, to lay safely sleeping just below the frozen surface, awaiting spring.
There are those who followed in the footsteps of their predecessors, seeking to escape the constraints of their parent’s and elders’ indoctrination, traditions, madness, and abuse, yearning to find their own way despite also being inextricably bound to their own pasts. There are those who just wanted to go for a walk in the woods, and remained forever changed by what they experienced. There are those who wished to impose their will upon the wilderness, their order falling to disarray, unable to make lasting impact. There are those who sought to leave behind the world of mankind, looking for oneness in the natural order of things through isolation, leaving a bit of themselves behind after being consumed by the terrors they encountered. There are those who truly found communion with the woods, became one with its wildness, and invited its spirit into their hearts to find peace, even at cost of their own lives. And then, there are the spirits themselves…
All in all, I give Boreal: an Anthology of Taiga Horror 3.0 Cthulhus. I love existential angst so I found it to be an enjoyable read, and I appreciated the myriad manners in which the biome was explored. But there were points in which I found myself struggling to follow along, as if the words were swept up into their own wilds in ways that alienated myself as reader, as if my mere voyeurism into this otherworldly place was not enough to comprehend the subtle deviations in storytelling mannerisms fully. I suppose in some sense this seems appropriate, but at the same time, it left me feeling a bit unfulfilled, as if I had missed a spiritual connection that should have resonated more deeply.