I was at my mother's house for Thanksgiving one year, and a social worker friend of hers was invited for dinner, along with his seriously delinquent teen foster sons.

There's a tradition in our house of cheesy movies after dinner, so I took the boys to the local video store, and let them pick the movie.

How was I supposed to know House of 1000 corpses was not a family movie?

The boys were riveted. The adults were too--all of them staring fixedly at me.

"Umm, I'm sorry to expose your sons to this. I'll pay for their therapy," I said to the dad.

"That's ok," he said. "They're already in therapy."

I always liked this one. The druggy editing gets me.