Can a priest turn an entire storm system or a city water supply into holy water?
When I was ten, I encountered what may well be the perfect weapon in the battle against vampires, werewolves, and so forth: The Super-Abnormal Phenomena Survival Kit.
It was in a Warren magazine, I remember that much – Creepy, or Eerie, or perhaps even Vampirella. It was a parody article, but was geared to look like an infomercial-style ad… which, considering this was the early seventies, would put it ahead of its time.
You could send away for the SAPS Kit, which included a little briefcase, a utility belt, a handgun, and a book. The case and belt contained the sorts of things you’d expect to find in a monster hunter’s side bag – stakes, garlic, mallet, silver, wolfsbane, hand grenades, and so forth… but the pistol, now, the pistol, and more importantly, its ammunition, sparked my imagination in a way that still reverberates now, thirty years later.
Each slug was composed of a lead/silver/nickel/plutonium alloy, coated with a solution of wax, holy water, wolfsbane, and cyanide, and each carried a tiny indestructible crucifix at its tip… and each slug was guaranteed blessed by the priests of some five different major religions. I mean, these things were intended to take down ANY S.A.P you might encounter! The illustrations in the article were great, too – a heavily armed commando with submachine gun, kicking down the door of a crypt, brandishing his weapon at several very surprised vampires and a misplaced mummy… and this could be YOU, with the Super-Abnormal Phenomena Survival Kit!
The book contained a variety of interesting nuggets of anti-monster lore and wisdom as well –
“Stay the heck out of Transylvania. Leave this area for professional SAP hunters.”
“Turn on the lights before going into the basement. Even if you’re only going to be a minute.”
“Do not open coffins. Even if something from beyond horror doesn’t leap out and try to eat your face, there is, at least, a dead guy in there, and who wants to look at a dead guy? Ick.”
As a ten year old, the whole thing struck me as unutterably cool. Regrettably, even at that age, I knew it was a joke, and did not send them any money.
Now, I look back on it and think, “Jeez, silver? Plutonium? How much did those bullets COST? And some schmoe is out there hosing them around in a machine gun?”