A Nightmare on Magazine Street

Deadbolt "Deady" Krueger

Deadbolt “Deady” Krueger

One, two, Deady’s comin’ for you.
Three, four, betta clean da shop floor.
Five, six, invert dat crawdafix.
Seven, eight, gonna stay up & get baked.
Nine, ten, nevah sleep again, brah.

Only the purest Black Metal hump trees.

Only the purest of Black Metal hump trees.

Greetings ghouls & boils, it’s our favorite time of year, ALL HALLOWS’ EVE is ghastly approaching, SO…put on some TIREFIRE (or any other black metal that will scare your family), corpse paint yo face, and lets toast our demon-blood wine coolers to this BLOG SACRIFICE! Our shop mascot, Deady Krueger (see above), has retired his banana suit for a traditional striped sweater and finds his claw glove is good for popping ass zits & chopping satsumas in the morning. Between all the rocks in Deady’s trick-or-treat bag, da shop is buzzing like a Chris Owens‘ show back in the 1960s. So be a do-gooder and check out our artists skintastic works as we highlight them b-low or else Deady Krueger and the Great Pumpkin will come to your house and eat your pets.

“……” – Jason, Friday the 13th

Every rose has its thorn.

Every rose has its thorn.

Matt Welch tattooing and art gooeyness is better than da sticky white stuff you get on yo fingers (you said it was s’mores, but we know da truth.) Seriously, I have like daily vadergasms looking at his insta feed, as his art is quite radtacular, to put in my meagle-petty words.  A few to note in Matt’s trick-or-treat bag of laffy-taffy are a pretty bird (for a 1st tattoo client), rose & anchor,  Luke & flowers, progress on da Cajun Infidel (aka Toefeel), progress on a rose & fire piece, a classic rose & skull, and even some nice traditional pieces for the orange goblin season like skull & wings and a lil black cat. If these aren’t enough to capture your attention away from her Dragon’s Majesty Game of Thrones, maybe Matt’s artwork will sell your soul, like this trippy HeyyyGirl  and 500 little scales.

“No tears, please. It’s a waste of good suffering.” – Pinhead, Hellraiser

Scott Allen art on display at Treo NOLA.

Scott Allen art on display at Treo NOLA.

Scott Allen  is like da shop Emperor, only instead of a black robe he wears Hawaiian shirts and is much younger and better looking. Ok, maybe he doesn’t look like the Emperor, and is more Hans Soloish (without the vest). Scott, Donn, Matt, & TJ currently have artwork (one of Scott’s pieces as seen on left) on display at Treo, be a righteous brah and go check dem out before the end of month! In Scott’s trick-or-treat bag of circus peanuts, he’s torn our souls apart like a centobyte with recent works of lil harpy, a sugar skull,  and dias del los muertos. TJ whipped some foxy action on Scott a few weeks back. And Scott’s been devantly busting nuts of new artwork like this painting from the show last month and even new recent work “jackalope” he’s started sketching.

“Killer clowns, from outer space. Holy shit!” – Curtis Mooney, Killer Klowns from Outer Space

Team Acid splits the atom

Team Acid gets head 

Little pigs beware, Kenny Chin-Chin is huffin’ and puffin’, blowin’ houses down. #TeamAcid continues da apocalypse slaughter wrapped up one-by-one in egg roll dreams and nightmares on magazine street (or wherever dat food truck rolls next).  In Ken’s trick-or-treat bag of wax lips & Garbage Pail Kids cards, he’s managed to delight da church masses with masterpieces such as a rosary cover-up,  trippy owl, gorilla & naked chick, and a lil sweet tooth for your rotten smile. In the spirit of the beast, he’s done some uberlicious morsels like this ghoul hand and another holdin’ da bottle. Along with some candy sprinkles of artwork like “Boo-oooo chiiild, things are gonna get creepieeerr” on display at Treo, some new Jap work, and some graffiti Team Acid doodlin. There’s never a dull moment with dis masta of disasta.

“Hi, I’m Chucky. Wanna play?” – Chucky, Childs Play

Unabomber Hustler

Unabomber Hustler Dance

Theophile Fo aka TJ aka Toefeel aka Cajun Fabio aka Da Fro Bunny aka the Marky Mark of Marrero is hustlin the streets with a fresh freestyle bandstand dance to bring back the Soul Train north of Tchoupitoulas Street. In da maestro’s trick-or-treat bag you’ll find a lot of gummy body parts (mostly dicks) and a ‘lil Fun Dip along with his southern flav chew like dis screamin’ eagle,  a deer portrait, wolf reflection, roses & heart lock, oni demon, awesome swampy tree, rose elbow, progress on a Love & Trust chest piece and timepiece. And how ’bout sum artwork? Checkout the progress pics for an upcoming The Wicked Son gig and the “Ties that Blind Us” series he did for the art exhibit last month. Really, the list goes on & on—puh-leez check out TJ’s insta feed for all kinds of artwork, family, and fun.

“You’re a fucking ugly bitch. I want to stab you to death, and then play around with your blood.” – Patrick Bateman, American Psycho


Custom Vans done for a new shop in the FQ

This is Ground control to Major Donn, you’ve really made the grade. So while the rest of us have been taking our protein pills, Papa Donn’s been churnin’ fresh butter cookies sweeter than that cherry you said you popped (we all know it was a lie, brah). And inside Donn’s trick-or-treat bag of candy cigarettes and Mary Jane you’ll also find some elephant day of the dead action, koi fish progress, just a few scales, red beans & crypt, more shoki background, and some namakubi & peony buttarificness! Along with some old discovered works like this hanya snake back piece, a swallow, and angry flamingo. Along with tattoos, Donn’s completed some artwork for Treo like this closeup of The Flasher and Witchy Woman.

“You think that when you die, you go to Heaven. You come to us!” – The Tall Man, Phantasm II

And finally to mix-up the blog with a little of my own trick-or-treat bag of spiced shit cake, I found this old poem I wrote, which harnesses da evil spirit in a Swamp Thing-eque kinda way. Hope you enjoy, mateys.

The Beast

You shouldn’t have come here.
As demons rise from your forgotten memories,
volume set to creature overtones of this swamp.
And here I sit, half-naked on damp grass watching.
The smell of death always finds me.
Sweat dripping rhythm from the Devil’s breath,
sipping the witches’ brew under yellow eyes,
as my skin begins to burn under her disease.

As the crow flies, bringing cooler wind of change,
and wickedness is his reflection in murky water,
as ghosts of harmony slowly disappear.
The Beast craves blood.
Discover an unfamiliar place of the same,
your darkness hidden under stories by others.
Could turn back now, but you won’t.
It’s too late.
You shouldn’t have come here.


Tongue ya later, brah. – Lard Vader

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