Used-sofa purchases should always include a thorough interrogation of the seller, with no-nonsense, cut-to-the-chase questions like the following: How dangerous is this thing? Has it ever attempted to eat people? If so, how many? That’s the most important lesson I learned anyway, from watching Killer Sofa. Yes, Killer Sofa is an actual film from New Zealand, and when I found out about it on Facebook, I said, “Why didn’t I think of that? That’s something I would totally think of, and now, I have to watch the movie.”
Of course, I couldn’t watch the movie alone. I needed to share this gem of a flick (which received an audience rating of 39% on Rotten Tomatoes) with Nate and Alex. Nate was a little skeptical, but a $4.99 movie-rental price during lockdown was just the right splurge for these times.
The most frightened creature in our house, during the movie was the cat, who had never heard us scream-laugh before. (Scream-laughing is terrifying for a cat, though it’s great payback for when he screams at us and tries to swat our rear-ends when we’re in a Zoom meeting.) This sofa, which is really more of a recliner/Lazy-Boy type thing with a silly smile and salt and pepper shaker lids for eyes, becomes obsessed with its new owner, Francesca. Anyone who visits her or befriends her is fair game for the sofa, who wants her all to himself. This sofa is capable of creeping, crawling, and stalking its victims—taunting them before ruthlessly slashing them and eating them. It can even lurk menacingly outside of windows, which I think is an absolutely brilliant touch.
It would have helped to also have a snack while watching this film. We didn’t have one at the time, but if we ever watch it again, we might eat these nachos, which I made on Saturday, after we cleaned the house and vacuumed out the couch. (Regular vacuuming is a great way to check for body parts and ensure that the sofa has not become possessed.)
After checking both of our couches for signs of possession, we decided we were safe for now and could celebrate with some nachos, but we didn’t have tortilla chips. Going to the store more than once is much scarier these days than a possessed sofa, so we just made do with what we had on hand, which included taco shells. Basically, I broke apart the taco shells into larger pieces and sprinkled them with shredded cheddar cheese.
Here is the “recipe:”
(Serves about 3-4 people)
–1 large tomato, roughly chopped
–1/4 cup of cilantro, chopped
–1/4 cup onion chopped
–1 tsp. of jalapeño pepper chopped (can be omitted, if you don’t like spice)
–1/4 cup of green onion, sliced
–6-8 taco shells, broken up into quarters
–1 ½ cups of shredded cheddar cheese
Place the tomatoes, cilantro, onion, and jalapeño (if using) into a bowl. Mix them together and set aside.
Place the broken shells into a pile on a baking sheet. Feel free to add cheese into the layers/pile as you go. Then, top with the rest of the cheese. Broil on high for about 3 minutes—or until the cheese on top is bubbly and brown. If the cheese in the middle is not done, you can turn the oven off, and place the baking sheet on the bottom rack and let the cheese continue to melt.
Garnish the nachos with the tomato mixture and the chopped green onion.
Results: Just like a room full of possessed sofas, it didn’t take us long to devour this snack. It is quite messy, though, so I wouldn’t suggest eating these nachos on an actual sofa—unless it’s one that you don’t care about too much.
So, to sum up: The nachos can be enjoyed by people/audiences of all ages. The Killer Sofa, however, is not for children or cats, but here’s a soothing bedtime lullaby, inspired by this movie anyway:
Drift off my darlings to Planet Lofa,
Where the skies and soil are made of sweets,
But don’t sit on the Killer Sofa.
It turns people into treats.
Night, night, everyone!
Your Turn: What is a movie you’ve enjoyed lately? Do you eat popcorn when watching a movie? Or, do you enjoy other snacks?