Pop culture obsessives writing for the pop culture obsessed.
Pop culture obsessives writing for the pop culture obsessed.

Lilly Singh foils a horror villain who doesn't know what women do to themselves every day

Lilly Singh, bad guy
Lilly Singh, bad guy
Screenshot: A Little Late with Lilly Singh

Wednesday’s A Little Late With Lilly Singh saw the late-night host tied to a chair in a filthy basement, screaming for help at the sight of one of those masked, menace-voiced murder types that horror franchises love so much. (Honestly, his knobbly white face mask was way too close to the Jigsaw puppet, but if you’re flaying people in your murder-cellar, copyright law probably isn’t something you worry about.) With the terrified Singh asking what this dastardly, be-jumpsuited menace has in store for her, the would-be killer boasts of his sadistic plans regarding her eyelids, feet, fingernails, ribcage, and even teeth, pulling out a series of nasty-looking implements that surely could only have sprung from the fevered, fractured mind of a woman-hating madman.

Well, sure, Singh had to concede, that guillotine-looking contraption intended to pull her delicate, membranous lids away from her face so he can sear animal fur to her eyes with stinging, poisonous glue did look pretty awful. Almost as bad as the thing that she paid someone to do to her in middle school that time, since, you know, people said pictures are forever, and everyone else was doing it. Momentarily taken aback at the thought that his satanic thunder had been stolen, the killer then whipped out some sort of horrible foot-mangler, intended to twist the helpless Singh’s tender feet all out of shape and, wait, what? “It was more like a strappier stiletto, but definitely the same arch,” Singh explained to the once-more dismayed would-be Freddy Krueger, describing what her new Louboutins recently did to her.

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Well, what about the series of small files, intended to mar and warp Singh’s fingernails into unnatural points, and—oh. Well, what if he strapped Singh into a constricting midriff device that keeps her from taking even a single regular, cleansing breath? (Waist-trainer on top of Spanx is already in place.) All right, but no murderously misogynistic fiend could come up with the thought of filing down Singh’s natural teeth, only to cram painful fakes right over the stubs! Veneers, you say? Hot wax, right on the nether regions? Anything? Exasperated (and a little grossed out) the killer finally had to admit he was whipped when it comes to inventing ways for men to torture women, letting the apologetic Singh go back to the world of male-conceived beauty standards. Twist.

Contributor, The A.V. Club. Danny Peary's Cult Movies books are mostly to blame.