See, I got this free pass for "Jeepers Creepers 2." I liked the first movie OK. Maybe it's because of Derry, that teenage boy in it? He was real annoying, so I was glad when the Creeper ripped open his skull and sucked out his eyes like oysters. That was cool.

Anyway, I ask Mike if he wants to go with me to the sequel. And Mike goes, "I don't know -- is there gonna be a lot of Jockey-sniffing in THIS one, too?"

Like I knew what he was talking about. Mike goes, "Don't you remember the first movie, when the brother and sister go inside that diner? And the Creeper busts into their car and opens their suitcases, and people see him sniffing all their clothes?"

Then I remembered. But I just figured the Creeper was kinky, maybe he liked looking at girls' panties. Who DOESN'T? But Mike goes, "No -- it was the BROTHER'S dirty underwear he was sniffing! And you know what else? The guy who made that movie? Back in the '80s they put him in jail for molesting a 12-year-old boy."

Well, let's just say that kinda put a whole new level of horror on the horror movie, am I right?

But hold on, I want to be clear here. I think when you're dealing with "creative" people, you have to learn how to separate their art from their lives. Maybe not Ben Affleck and J.Lo, but some other people . . .

Take Roman Polanski. Yeah, he got busted for sex with an underage girl, and yeah, that is twisted. But he's also the guy that made awesome movies like "Chinatown" and "Rosemary's Baby" and "The Pianist."

But then there's this Salva guy. All I'll say is, this is his SECOND movie in a row about a monster that goes around EATING PARTS OF TEENAGE BOYS. Maybe Salva's parole officer thinks it's good therapy, but I'm glad I had a free pass and didn't pay to watch him work out his issues onscreen.

We saw the movie anyway, because I am a forgiving and nonjudgmental person. And also because I like blood and gore and stacked, screaming girls.

"JC2" has girls, but they're not the ones that take their tops off. It's the guys. (Mike leans over and goes, "See what I mean?" And I'm thinking, Yeah, but at least THESE dudes are old enough so that their voices have dropped.)

These jocks and cheerleaders are stranded in the middle of nowhere after the Creeper blows out their bus tires with these cool throwing-stars made of steel, skin and bone. (One is wrapped in a beef-jerkied piece of flesh from dead Derry's bellybutton, which is something I don't want to think about too hard.)

While they wait around for help, the basketball jocks shuck their shirts AGAIN and lay out on top of the bus to work their tans. Then -- I am not making this up, my friends -- they go in a group to the side of the road, in broad daylight, line up shoulder-to-shoulder, and [urinate] together.

Mike and me are staring at each other again with a "What the [gosh]" look on our face.

Now, OK. I am willing to "suspend my disbelief" that there's a thousand-year-old monster with giant wings that hibernates for 23 years, then comes out and eats teenage boys for 23 days. No problemo. But not in a million years can you make me believe any guys over the age of 10 (that are NOT cast members of "Queer Eye," anyway) would stand around talking to each other holding their [reproductive organs] in their hands. Doesn't happen. It's science fiction, man.

Come to think of it, wasn't there a [urinating]-on-the-roadside scene in the FIRST "Creepers," too? Maybe this is what film scholars call "a motif" in the collected filmography of Victor Salva.

Anyway, then the usual [stuff] happens. It gets dark. The Creeper shows up and flies around with his crappy CGI wings. He punches a hole in the roof. He starts eating people. There's only one really creepy (ha ha) scene, and that's when he hangs on the side of the bus, staring at boys he likes the smell of, and licking the window. Which is probably a lot like the nightmares that 12-year-old kid had.