Guess Who's Coming to Dinner? Ed Gein.

Certain film genres have a tendency to produce formulaic movies. Because of this, we've all been conditioned to associate life scenarios with scenes we've seen in the movies time and time again. It's gotten to the point where movie cliches can even dictate our actions.

Do you find yourself in a bookstore arguing with an attractive stranger of the opposite sex? Do you have an unexplained feeling in the pit of your stomach that tells you to expect a race to the airport to stop her from leaving town sometime in the following months? Congratulations; you're in a romantic comedy.

Elevator's not working? The other people in the elevator happen to be an attractive woman, a rogue police officer who's recently divorced his wife, and a sharply dressed man with a vague European accent? Brace yourself; you're in an action flick.

Paying the bills by delivering pizza or cleaning pools? Did your customer come to the door in a towel that barely covers her Silicon Valley? Is she speaking in really awkward pointed sentences that only a child or a NASCAR fan would consider acceptable prose? Hope you brought a condom; you're about to be in a porno.

We all know how these movies start. So when I find myself in Martindale, Texas, visiting my cousin Doyle, and he mentions that he just happens to live right next to "the old mill" where they filmed the Hollywood remake of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, I'm a little unnerved. When he takes me on a tour of the town at night, I start to shake my head.

When he pulls into a small alley behind the mill to show me the nearby river, my mind races.

Then, when his car gets stuck in the rocks, and he tells me we are going to have to walk home to get his tow truck, I resolve myself to an untimely death by way of chainsaw.

To review, here are the facts:

+ I'm a traveler, wandering through a small town in Texas.

+ It's pitch black outside.

+ The car has broken down in a remote area, forcing us to walk home.

+ We're right next to "THE OLD MILL" where they filmed THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE.

This is pretty much the start to every slasher film in history.

As Doyle and I make our way across the dark field, I am consoled only by the fact that I am 1) not the black guy, 2) not the guy who recently mocked the local legend at an impromptu campfire, and 3) not currently having sex with an attractive coed, which incidentally is the first time in recorded history this has ever been viewed as a positive.

Somehow, Leatherface missed the memo, and not only were Doyle and I able to survive, we were even able to come back (you NEVER go back) and tow his car out of the riverbank.

Thankfully, on this particular dark and dreary night, life did not imitate art. But local legend says that if you pass "the old mill" these days and have the courage to peek through the boarded up windows, you'll see a disfigured man with a chainsaw, drinking himself stupid and crying into his pillow as he moans about "the one that got away."