First off, a word of friendly warning. Actually, warning is the wrong word so let's make that a friendly encouraging. This movie defies any kind of logical description and the written synopsis does not do it justice. It is so warped and wonderful that I had to go out and create a new rating for it.

When you become jaded as many of us have, you look for that "something" in all the movies you watch. That undeniable nugget that really is reduced to the correct answer to this question "Does the fucker pay off?" If you get a "yes" many times you can leave smiling. Well with Blood Freak, you will have the have the damned grin sand blasted from from noggin, cuz payoff it do and Prof. Tread is not shitting you.

The years I had to wait to see it had not prepared me for how bizarre the premise of a Anti-Drug, Pro-Christianity message colliding with a mutated monster on a motorbike movie might actually be. Like a sort of Jack Chick tract come to life, Blood Freak can only be described as "out-there" no matter where you try and categorize it. Not intentionally funny, it seems at its best a morality play that is trying desperately to leave the viewer with a "message." What is that message? Well, more on that later.

While cruising the sun stroked byways of Retirement Territory, U.S.A (AKA Florida) on his mega-machined chopper, wounded Vietnam veteran Herschel runs into Jesus' personal P.R. representative, Angel. She lives with her dope fiend sister Ann in a house frequented by several prime examples of why American ingenuity and productivity was so poor in the '70s. While Angel preaches the psalms to Herschel, Ann tries to get to "know" him in the true Biblical sense. Realizing that the only begetting old Hersch is interested in is of the platonic variety, Ann seeks her revenge by making the beefy buffoon smoke some oregano doobies laced with pure smack. One puff, and Herschel is hooked, painfully craving (like a pre-pork rind pig out Anna Nicole) more spiked smoke to calm his horrible overacting. But instead he gets a job on a local turkey farm where the inbred cousins of Bartles and James feed him a free bird pumped full of Adolph's meat tenderizer, overly salty chicken broth, and the magic ingredient Polyplotpoint 80. Instead of copping a buzz off the L-tryptophan, however, Herschel turns into a half-man/half bird beast, complete with papier-m?ch? turkey head and overdubbed gobble. Hungry like the hen, he goes out looking for drug addicts to kill for their rich, chemically enhanced blood. And while Ann feels guilt for getting Herschel hooked, and Angel memorizes the last few Beatitudes, the foul feathered fiend roams the streets of Sun City Center, looking for supermodels, rock stars and grade schoolers to supply him with the opium rich artery juice he so desperately needs.

So would you care to show us?