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The man from the Eerie Dairy unloaded a crate of single-serve milk cartons onto the cracked linoleum in front of the Eeriemat's vending machine.

The thin chain around his neck jangled with a hundred keys of varying size and shapes, but his fingers sought and found the right one almost without conscious thought.

"Looks like this thing's working out well for you," he said to the boy behind the counter, whose smile was penny-bright in the light of the overhead fluorescents. "Second time this week that you've needed a restock ."

The boys' eyes gleamed like silver dollars and he nodded.

Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

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Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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"So," she said, once she was back in her seat with a sufficiently-doctored drink in front of her. "What am I doing here?"

"I'm not entirely sure," the Milkman confessed. "This is my sixty-seventh-and-a-half go 'round and I can't tell if I'm trapped in a time-loop and pulling you in or if it's the other way around. For all I know, it might even be something else entirely."

Janet thought about this, one hand absently tapping a long column of ash away from a cigarette that had burned all the way down much faster than it should.

"Hmm," she said.


Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: Janet

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The three-eyed cow painted on the side of the milk truck stared at Janet as she approached, the bovine grin wide and leering, a single cornstalk clutched between wide, blunt teeth.

The Milkman had told Janet she'd be safe, and weighing the risks of trusting him against her dislike of black coffee, she'd decided to risk it. She'd encountered the occasional evil Marshall before, but to a one they'd all sported goatees and were therefore pretty easy to avoid.

Still, she breathed a little easier once she was back inside, a tall glass bottle of half-and-half cool in her hands.


Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: Janet

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One of the good things about the abandoned realities, Janet reflected, was the way entropy just... stopped working.

The unopened bag of Dark Gods' Darkest Roast Ground Coffee was as fresh as if it had been stored in ForeverWare, the water from the tap in he kitchen ran cold and clear, and the packet of filters were white, crisp and untroubled by dust despite having sat on the shelf for Corn-knew how long.

"Thanks," said the Milkman, as she slid a mug across the spotless tabletop towards him. "There's milk and stuff in the back of the truck, if you want."


Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: Janet

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"Thanks for the heads up," Janet said wryly. "Did any of the other me's manage to figure it out?"

The Milkman pulled a sheet of paper from the breast pocket of his crisp white uniform. The ink on it was fresh enough to smudge slightly under his fingers, but the paper was yellow-brown and brittle with age. He handed it over.

"Huh," said Janet. "Somewhere between seventy-eight and eighty-three, allowing for time dilation caused by loose twine on the time canoe. And apparently I'm not to ask Mister Radford for his age under any circumstances."

"Seems wise," agreed the Milkman.


Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: Janet

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Janet lit up, pausing for a moment to savour the taste of tobacco and nicotine while she inspected the latest (relatively speaking) version of Marshall.

He was old, but not as old as he'd been the first (second?) time she'd met him as the Milkman. Older than her parents and most of the teachers at school. Somewhere around Mister Radford's age, or at least around the age that Radford presented himself as.

"You'll only get a headache," the Milkman warned her. "One of the other you's even passed out trying to work it out. Gave herself a nosebleed and concussion."


Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: Janet

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"Sorry!" this version of Marshall repeated. "I didn't want to turn on the light in case someone was watching the Baitshop and caught me hiding out here."

"It's okay," Janet lied, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a crumpled packet of cigarettes. She placed one between her lips, then paused.

"Is this one of the empty realities? I don't want to smoke in here if another one of me is going to catch hell for it somewhere along the timeline."

"You're good," the Milkman assured her. "This iteration's been abandoned since the timestream flooded a hundred years from now."

Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: Janet

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"It's been a while," said a voice behind her, and Janet shrieked and whirled, her fingers catching the crisp linen of the shroud and pulling it loose behind her.

The Milkman held up liver-spotted hands in a gesture of apology she recognised from his regular-time counterpart.

"Sorry!" he said. "Sorry! Didn't mean to startle you."

Janet bent over, breathing deeply as she fought both the pounding of her much-abused heart and the urge to go over there and smack him.

"Marshall," she gasped eventually. "Whichever iteration you're from, please tell the rest of yourselves to never, ever do that again."


Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: Janet

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June 1st is World Milk Day. Let's celebrate with some fanworks themed around the Eerie Dairy, time travelling milkmen, or the tragic and totally preventable mowing down of teenaged pedestrians!
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"Back so soon, kid?" asked Billy Millions, glancing up from the freshly-shined chrome exhaust in which he was admiring his newly-trimmed beard. "You lose something?"

"No," said Marshall, whose arm was wrapped in hastily-applied gauze that smelled strongly of antiseptic. "I came to warn you that the Garbage Guys are planning to burn your clubhouse to the ground later today. You need to clear out your recycling now before they put the torch to all those old newspapers."

The Unkind One's leader gave him a long, considering look.

"Well," he said. "That's alarmingly specific, but I expect if you tell me any more, we'd be risking the collapse of the space-time continuum, right?"

"Right," said Marshall, then, "Wait, how did you-"

"I might have had this conversation before," said Billy Millions, rising to his feet with a creak of very tight leather clothing. "But I can't say more, because I'm bound by causality and my given word."

He turned towards the open door of the clubhouse and beckoned to someone inside.

"I also happen to have a ball of dino-proof twine lying around," he said. "Which you may have a use for, at some unspecified point in time."

Marshall gaped.

Ongoing Verse: Pay Attention

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Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

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The second hand was the hardest. Finger-painting something that thin and fine, in oily prison crud, on bare skin, might have been manageable for Sara Sue, or even Syndi, but it was definitely beyond Marshall.

He picked up the sharp-edged rock, dragged it along the greasy build-up on the wall, and gritted his teeth as he pressed the jagged makeshift nib along his arm. It left a trail of black ooze and a thin white line that quickly welled with droplets of red.

Marshall pocketed the stone, stared at the crude drawing of a wristwatch.

The second hand moved, slightly.


Ongoing Verse: Pay Attention

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Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

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He reached for the handle, but was unsurprised to find it remained flat and two-dimensional. Of course, she would have shut it tight behind her. Sara Sue Haverstock tended not to leave a lot of open doors in her wake.

Still, as Marshall stared at the calendar with it's crossed-out mass of unlived days, and the smudgy door that was now only ever a drawing, he had an idea.

He rolled up the sleeve on his right arm, the one that was usually covered to the elbow in more than a dozen watches. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he used the gritty dirt of the unswept floor to draw a rough circle on the pale, exposed skin.

At his back, the door that was not and had never been a door creaked encouragement through non-existent hinges. A faint breeze blew from beneath it, smelling of newly-cut grass and the spring tide that was always slightly pink with blood.

He opted for roman numerals, figuring the straight lines would lend itself better to writing on skin with the greasy black grime of the prison cell. He drew a minute hand, and a shorter, thicker one to mark the hours.


Ongoing Verse: Pay Attention

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Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

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Perhaps it was his frantically-racing mind playing tricks on him, perhaps it was just his eyes adjusting to the windowless gloom of the tiny cell, but Marshall could almost swear that next to the calendar was the outline of a door.

Painfully, he raised himself up to a crouch and, one wary eye on the darkened room beyond the bars of his cage, he shuffled over to examine the faint chalk smudges that formed a tall rectangle on the bare breezeblock walls.

The room's previous occupant had signed her work, and despite his situation, Marshall laughed when he saw it.

Ongoing Verse: Pay Attention

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Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

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Marshall leaned back on the hard stone floor with a groan, running his fingers through his hair as he struggled to come up with a winning scenario. The groan became even more heartfelt when he realised he'd only succeeded in rubbing more prison cell goo on himself.

He rolled onto his side, and that's when he saw the calendar. Scratched into the wall, probably with one of the many sharp-edged bits of stone he could feel digging into various parts of his anatomy, it showed dates more than ten years into the future.

All of them had been crossed out.

Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

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Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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"Gross," muttered Marshall, trying to wipe his begrimed hands off on his t-shirt and succeeding only in smearing the mess around even more.

He looked down at his blackened palms, feeling the panic rise and trying to push it back down.

It wasn't that bad. Simon would be missing him by now. He'd get help. People would come for him.

But the Unkind Ones had tried, hadn't they? He'd seen the flames rising over their clubhouse, thick black smoke and choking fumes like a thousand tyre fires. Even if enough of them had survived to mount a counter-attack, they were effectively out of commission for the time being.

Time. The Dairy. The Dairy would... well, the Dairy would consult the Great Cow of the Cosmos and if causality demanded he be lost, then they'd shrug their white-coated shoulders and resign themselves to plucking a different Marshall Teller out of his home reality and starting all over again.

Radford would miss him, of course, but he'd been firmer about his policy of non-interference since his stock room turned into a hollow-backed Hollywood set and he'd had to pay for an extensive and inexplicable refurbishment, not to mention replacing all his supplies.

Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

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The Garbagemen had taken his watches.

Marshall rubbed at the too-pale patches on his forearm, feeling his flesh crawl with goosebumps and his skin prickle and burn. Part of it was remembering the slick, rubbery feel of the Garbagemen's fingers as they tore away timepiece after timepiece. Part of it was probably just unaccustomed exposure to the chill air of the Mayor's secret dungeon.

The concrete floor was gritty and cold beneath him, leaving thick smears of black on his clothes and his frantically scrabbling fingers as he searched for something, anything, that would help him get out of here.

Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

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The Milkman dragged himself up the last of the six hundred and sixty six steps leading to the tallest point of the tallest tower in Eerie, and stopped.

He leaned against the warped and rotting door frame, breathing hard, willing his heart to return to it's normal rhythm. He wasn't as young as he was, or as he would be again, and he hadn't expected to make this climb today. He'd not had to make it in any of the previous iterations, but then, maybe that's where it had gone wrong.

The thirteen clocks of the bell-tower began to chime.

Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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The Eerie Dairy's bottling plant was shut down. In the parking lot outside a fleet of milk trucks sat silent, bereft of cargo and identity, their drivers checking an array of watches that all told them they were late.

Behind them, rolling green fields where cattle had once grazed had been replaced by beanstalks, each one as thick around as a double decker bus. The clouds hid their tops from view, and thus far they had remained blessedly giantless, but they all agreed it was only a matter of time.

"They sold every single cow?" asked one.

The others nodded.


Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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The roof had fallen in and weeds were sprouting from the cracks in the walls. The whole building listed to one side, a lean so pronounced that the stairs up to the second floor had buckled, folding in on themselves like the bellows of a half-collapsed accordion.

The Milkman selected a wire-mesh cage containing four pint bottles that glistened with condensation. He set them on the moss-covered front step before forcing the swollen door open and stepping inside.

"What's with the delivery?" asked Marshall, following him in.

"Fixed point in time and space," explained the Milkman. "The milk's our anchor."

Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Marshall set the over-filled coffee mug down, spilling a little as he did so. Simon, glancing up from the textbook open in front of him, shot him a quick smile that rapidly transformed into a concerned frown.

"Mars?" he asked. "You okay? You look..." he searched for a tactful phrasing and settled on "Not... okay?"

Marshall groaned, pressing the heels of his hands into eyes ringed by dark circles.

"Present me hates past me," he said. "Past me is an idiot."

Simon paused.

"Past You in the sense that you stayed up too late last night and now you're paying for it, or Past You like the Milkman showed up with some nightmarish tale of temporal distortion caused by you knocking over a glass of orange juice when you were thirteen?"

Marshall blinked.

"I'm asking if I need to go get the Time Canoe out of storage," said Simon. "If the space-time continuum is in danger of collapsing, I'd like us all to be wearing life jackets when it does."

"Oh," said Marshall, as understanding dawned like a very tired sun. "No, it's just a late night. Cursed study aides, I fell down a jackalope hole. The time stream's fine."

Ongoing Verse: Microwave

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Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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"Idiots," said Farmer Ephraim Chambers, and spat. "Stupid, selfish idiots."

The Milkman switched the ice-pack to his other eye and winced.

"They're scared," he said, which was true, though it wouldn't make his bruises heal faster. "Scared people do stupid things some timelines."

"Times, I mean," he corrected hastily, as the old man shot him a knowing look beneath his battered straw hat.

"They're panicking over milk," said the farmer. "As though this place didn't have it's own dairy. The cows almost outnumber the people."

The Milkman looked over the bloodied corpses littering the field.

"They do now," he said.

Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Marshall stood in front of the huge glass display case that ran down the centre of the room, staring past rows of ornate antique clocks at the man on the other side.

The man, who was also Marshall, though older, gave an awkward wave. He pointed towards the far end of the long room, where a small gap allowed visitors to the Eerie Museum of Horology to circle around the cabinet housing some of history's most important timepieces, and made a questioning sort of shrug.

Marshall shrugged back, then nodded, heading off in the direction his older self had indicated.

Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: Trusted Associates Inc

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“Questions were playing tiddly winks with my grey matter...”

Most times you go back to watch a programme from your youth, it's pretty disappointing. Every now and then, however, they're genuinely as good as you remember. Eerie, Indiana is one of those special few. There are a handful of series that tried to be The Twilight Zone for kids. Round the Twist (which I'll be coming back to in another article) is well-remembered by British and Australian audiences. Are You Afraid of the Dark and Goosebumps scared the kids of the early and late nineties, respectively. None had the wit of Eerie, Indiana. So why this series only lasted for a single season baffles me.

The series was set in the eponymous town of Eerie, Indiana, population 16,661. Marshall 'Mars' Teller moves to Eerie with his family. Only he, and his best friend, Simon, seem to notice just how bizarre life in Eerie really is. Bigfoot eats out of Marshall's trash, Elvis is on his paper round, and each episode, some uncanny occurrence makes becomes the subject of Marshall and Simon's investigations. The situations the duo faced were man and varied. Some were drawn from classic horror and sci-fi, but with a twist, such as “America's Scariest Home Video,” which drew the Mummy straight out of a black-and-white movie and into Marshall's living room, while Simon's younger brother took his place (and proved far scarier). Some drew on science fiction for their inspiration, such as the HAL 9000 riff “The ATM With a Heart of Gold.” Others were barmy in their originality. “No Brain, No Pain,” involved a shambling vagrant, who was in fact a genius, but had accidentally taped over his mind with a copy of The Knack's My Sharona.

While the writing was generally very good for a children's drama, it was the direction and the cast that really set Eerie apart from its rivals. While Jose Rivera and Karl Schaefer were credited as the series' creators, Joe Dante was a major creative force on the show, directing several episodes. This is the man who directed such sci-fi classics as Innerspace, Gremlins and, um, Piranha. Not the sort of person you'd expect to be working on a children's TV series for the Disney Channel. The cast were what really made it, though. The series boasted not only a solid regular and semi-regular cast, but some of the best guest actors in television. Weird old Vincent Schiavelli played the town's terrifying orthodontist, while Rene Auberjonois tried to brainwash the town. Dante's favoured actor, Archie Hann, played Mr Radford, the proprietor of the World O' Stuff, until the series' midpoint turnaround, when he was revealed to be an imposter. The real Radford was revealed, played with twinkling charm by John “Gomez” Astin. In one fan-favourite episode, “The Lost Hour,” putting the clocks forward one hour incorrectly stranded Marshall in an empty parallel version of Eerie, with only a mysterious milkman to turn to for help. That milkman – who, it was hinted, may have been Marshall's own future self – was played by the late, great Eric Christmas, an actor who was born to play the Doctor. These impressive guest spots and many clever references make the series a joy to watch for genre fans.

It would be wrong to overlook the core cast, however. Omri Katz was the star of the show. Fifteen at the time of filming, but playing it a little younger, Omri was perfect as Marshall, representing the many young boys who were just entering puberty and being torn between silly kids' shows and adult life. Omri gave Marshall a wide-eyed wonder at the weirdness of the world, with just enough snark to make the character snappy, but never obnoxious. Stealing the show, though, was Justin Shenkarow, four years younger, as Simon Holmes. Justin dominated every scene he was in, despite being the youngest member of the cast. Simon was an outsider in Eerie, and became close friends with Marshall, only to find himself take a backseat to the teenager's problems. Popularity, school, and above all, his burgeoning interest in girls, threatened to take Marshall away from Simon, but at the end of the day, the two were inseparable. There was a lot for young boys to relate to.

Marshall's family were equally as important to the setup, forever oblivious to the strange goings on around them. Frances Guinan was just the right side of eccentric as his father Edgar. Possibly named in association with Edward Teller, inventor of the hydrogen bomb, Edgar tried to keep afloat with his career as an inventor for Things Incorporated. His inventions were often a main plot point in the series. Marshall's mother, Marilyn, was played Mary-Margaret Humes, who I only now realise was quite impossibly sexy and wasted as Edgar's housewife. As Marshall's older sister, Syndi, Julie Condra provided the boys watching with the twin interests of an irritating sibling to run rings round, and a beautiful young woman to gaze at.

It was something of a boys' show. Marshall had a new crush every other week, and while the girls were often strong, impressive characters, there was less for the female members of the audience. That changed in the thirteenth episode, which began a process of revamping the series by introducing Jason Marsden – that guy who's in everything, these days – as Dash X. A mysterious, amnesiac with grey hair, Dash X didn't know his real name or where he came from. He became the amoral antagonist to Marshall's hero, sometimes helping him, sometimes out for himself. He might possibly have been an alien, and was even seemingly aware that he was part of a television programme. He was also, importantly, the one all the girls watching had a crush on.

Dash X threatened to steal the series away from Marshall, something that the producers were fully aware of. In what was surely intended as the final episode of the series, but actually aired as the penultimate instalment, Marshall woke up to find that his name was really Omri, and his entire life was, in fact, part of a TV show. “Reality Takes a Holiday” was an ingeniously postmodern episode, and saw Dash X – the only character referred to by his fictional name, and not his actor's name – attempt to oust Marshall as the star. Genuinely clever, it was a high point for the series.

My favourite episode, however, was “Heart on a Chain.” Marshall and a previously unmentioned classmate, Devon (played by another Dante favourite, Cory Danziger), both fall for the new girl, Melissa. When Devon is killed in a road accident, his heart is transplanted into the desperately ill Melissa, who begins to display some of Devon's personality traits. Marshall and Melissa's burgeoning romance is sabotaged by Devon's restless spirit. Apart from the fact that I had a huge crush on Danielle Harris, who played Melissa, this episode really touched me as a kid. Watching it again now, it's still affecting. It's a genuinely sweet, sad, creepy little ghost story, just really fine television.

For all the silliness, references and naff monsters, Eerie, Indiana was quite a dark, subversive series. The strangeness of the town and its supposed ordinariness was a metaphor for the harsh realities that are so often kept behind closed doors. While Marshall had a strong, loving family, Simon was from a broken home. He was able to spend so much time with the Tellers because his mother was rarely home, and his father was often “entertaining.” Other characters' lives were rarely anything to celebrate. “Who's Who” revolved around a young girl whose mother had abandoned her, and who was neglected and exploited by her father and brothers. Even the pilot episode, “Foreverware,” hinted at the dark secrets behind so many supposedly perfect families.

For some reason, Eerie, Indiana never took off on its initial 1991-2 run. It sank without a trace, with certain episodes not even airing. It wasn't until 1997 that Fox bought the series and it was given a new lease of life. It was then that the series made it overseas, onto the Saturday mornings of my thirteen-year-old self. It became successful enough to spawn a spin-off series, Eerie, Indiana: The Other Dimension. The concept was rather clever: in a parellel version of Eerie, life is perfectly normal, until a crazy cable guy opens an interdimensional rift. This lets the weirdness of the “prime” Eerie through to the Other Dimension, and threatens to destroy the Eeries of all realities. Marshall and Simon even appeared in the first episode to help out their younger equivalents, Mitchell and Stanley. However, although the effects had improved over the years, the scripts hadn't, and the weaker sequel series lasted only one season itself.

Eerie, Indiana amassed something of a cult following in its brief renaissance, but has little legacy. Even much of its cast are no longer acting. Omri Katz made the occasional film up until about eight years ago, while Justin Shenkarow now does mainly voice work. Julie Condra no longer seems to be acting. Of course, many of the more legendary guest stars are no longer with us. On the other hand, Jason Marsden is a familiar face on American television, Danielle Harris has become something of a modern day scream queen, and some kid called Tobey Maguire, who played a ghost boy, did quite well for himself. Still, I doubt any of these roles will make me smile quite as much as Eerie, Indiana.
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June 1st is World Milk Day. Let's celebrate with some fanworks themed around the Eerie Dairy, time travelling milkmen, or the tragic and totally preventable mowing down of teenaged pedestrians!

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