Last summer I decided it was it was time for my girls to see a good old fashioned scary movie. I saw my first scary movie when I was 10, the original Friday the 13th, where Kevin Bacon gets murdered in his bed while smoking his clichéd last cigarette, by having an arrow shoved up through his throat right after he notices a drop of blood on his forehead from the dead person in the bunk above him. Ah yes, I remember it well.