Iowa Bigfoot Newspaper Project: Iowa's 'Big Foot' - the 'Canton Creep'

- There have been several newspaper accounts of Bigfoot sightings in Iowa throughout the decades and by all accounts, they have been lost to time. As I find them, I will transcribe and post them here, for easy viewing. These articles paint a fascinating picture of historic Iowa Lore and the people who investigates it. -

Iowa's 'Big Foot' - the 'Canton Creep' 

Hawkeye hoorahs!

Those reports of an elusive nocturnal creature seen lumbering around northwest Iowa are no mystery to a West Liberty Index columnist. One Don Ehl claims the beast, dubbed “Big Foot,” is none other than the “Canton Creep.”

Ehl says a decade ago a night creature strikingly similar to this year’s ape-imposter was seen roaming around Canton administering doses of terror in that timber-camouflaged community along the Maquoketa River.

So, reasons Ehl, the Creep — not to be upstaged by a born-again president, a thrice reincarnated heavyweight boxing champion, or the Hulk — has emerged for a second coming under the alias of “Big Foot.”

The writer recalled one memorable incident from the beast’s youthful days. A romantic young couple, out for an evening stroll, decided to explore the Maquoketa Caves. Inside a dark cavern, the boy lovingly grabbed for his girl’s hand.

Finding the palm cold and clammy, the boy slowly reached out with his other hand, groping for reassurance.

What he came up with, though, was a not-so-feminine cluster of hair — which prompted him to set a new record for the 100-meter dash in exiting the cave. In his haste he neglected one minor detail. Behind him was his girlfriend, left to fend for herself.

Oh, his girl later said she neither saw, heard, nor felt any evil lurking in the cave.

In perhaps one of the better ideas since ex-President Gerald Ford’s aborted Whip Inflation Now (WIN) program, Ehl concluded with the suggestion that West Liberty recruit “Big Foot” as a tourist attraction in order to beef up its economy.

Or, if that should fail, footnotes Ehl, the possibility of running “Foot” as a third party candidate for city council exists, bad press notwithstanding. 

Popular pits

That same edition of the Index dredged up a tidbit from 60 years ago, which offered a bargain that might be quite popular in 1978’s inflation wars.

In the midst of World War I, residents were asked to donate a variety of fruit pits and nutshells, all necessary ingredients in manufacturing charcoal to be used in gas masks.

Peaches were a much-in-demand treat in those days. That was because the pits could be substituted for money to gain Saturday afternoon admission to the town’s movies at Grand Theater.

A burning question

News from the Mapleton Press lends more cannon fodder to the tax revolt cavalry. Robert Lyon, in a recent column, called attention to a U.S. Department of Agriculture study that carried a price tag of $45,000. Its top-priority purpose, in the interest of national security: Determine how long it takes to cook breakfast.

If the USDA extended the research to lunch and dinner, it will cost a mere $160,000, Lyon added.

But he dug up the reason researchers required such a long time and long bucks to complete their task. It seems government whiz-kids were stymied by the burning question of how long it takes to cook a three-minute egg, Lyon writes.

— D. Vance Hawthorne

Don’t miss Hawkeye hoorahs! every Saturday and Sunday in your Des Moines Register.

Des Moines Register Nov. 5, 1978

The Blood Harvester of Rivesville, West Virginia: A Chilling Encounter from 1968

Frederick had been hunting for woodchuck that evening, unsuccessfully. The sun was nearly gone, and the shadows had started to stretch long and thin across the ground. Even though he was empty-handed, it was time to head home.

Suddenly, he heard a noise. It sounded like a high-pitched jabbering, much like that of a tape recorder running at exaggerated speed. Then he realized he was hearing a voice... or at least words.

Ok. He didn't actually hear these words. - at least not in the way voices are supposed to be heard. He felt the words coming to him. As if they were coming from his own mind. 

You need not fear me. I wish to communicate. I come as a friend.

The words came fast and smooth against the sounds of nature. Almost mistakable, but still, definitely there. The voice sounded like something was trying to mimic human speech but it was missing  something. Maybe the rhythm? Still the words resonated. 

We know of you all. I come in peace. I need your help.

The woods around him remained perfectly still. There was no movement in the trees, no shape stepping out from the shadows. Just a sudden mental intrusion, like a signal cutting through static, dropping directly into the mind of Frederick as he stood beneath the maple trees on the edge of his father’s property in Rivesville, West Virginia. 

Puzzled, and slightly disoriented, he felt sweat building on his brow. He reached for his handkerchief and that’s when the pain hit. It was sharp and sudden.

At first, he thought it was a briar - a wild thorn catching his wrist. But when he pulled his arm back, whatever had him didn’t let go. It tightened.

And then he looked down. Wrapped around his wrist was something that shouldn’t exist. A thin, flexible appendage - green, almost plant-like - no thicker than a coin. At the end of it was a hand. But not a human hand. It wasn't anything close. But there was no other word for what he was looking at. 

On the hand, there were  three long fingers. They appeared to have needle-like tips where finger prints would normally be. And if that were't frightening enough, it also had suction cups. 

It moved with intention. The suction cups took hold and gripped hard. And then the needles pierced. Everything was happening very fast. 

Frederick heard it before he fully understood it - a faint, wet pulling sound. Horrifically, he realized his blood was being drawn. 

Panicked, he turned. What he saw standing behind him didn’t belong in the woods of West Virginia - or anywhere else on this planet.

It stood upright, but barely resembled a man. The face carried just enough familiarity to be confusing. It had slanted yellow eyes, pointed ears, and features that hinted at humanity, but twisted away from it at every angle. 

The body was worse. This creature wasn't flesh and bone.  It stood tall like a stalk -  green, thin, vertical, and unnatural - like something grown rather than born.

Frederick stood and watched in terror. He struggled to understand what was unfolding around him... to what he was seeing... to what this creature was doing to him - This creature wasn't a product of the classic horror films, and most certainly, this creature didn't belong in West Virginia. Yet, there it was harvesting blood like a giant mosquito. To Frederick, nothing was making sense. 

Then, it got even weirder. Suddenly, the creature's eyes started to change. Yellow turned to red. The eyes began to spin. Orange rings spiraled outward from the creature's eye sockets, turning slowly at first, then faster - then too fast to follow. This actually WAS like those scenes from the sci-fi classics. Spinning, hypnotizing eyes. 

And just like that… the pain stopped.

It was replaced with nothing. There was no fear and no panic. There was no resistance. For the first time in several seconds, Frederick felt a calmness. 

He stood frozen, held in place not by fear -  but by the force of this creature's hand. It quieted everything inside him. 

The “transfusion,” as he would later call it, didn’t last long. Maybe a minute. "But it felt like something was being taken, and then it ended."

The grip released and the thing turned and sprung away. 

The gait didn't resemble that of an animal, but not like a man, either. In fact, "gait" is probably not the correct word. The creature launched itself away. One leap, then another. It covered distances no living thing should be able to, twenty-five feet at a time. It cleared a five-foot fence like it wasn't there. And just two or three seconds later, it was gone, disappearing into the trees at the crest of the hill. 

Almost immediately, the pain came back to Frederick's hand. Again it was sharp. There was no doubting what had just occurred. The pain provided proof that this moment was real. Honestly, Frederick was having his doubts. 

He stood there, staring into the woods where the thing had vanished, trying to convince himself that it hadn’t actually happened. But the pain and marks on his hand said otherwise. 

Suddenly he heard a low hum. Then a rising wine, as if whatever it was that he was listening to was gaining propulsion. He imagined something mechanical, like an engine spinning in the dark. Later he said it sounded like something lifting off. 

Frederick made it home. He cleaned the wound and wrapped it. Then, for many years, he tried to pretend this occurrence never happened. 

Because what do you tell people after something like that? That something in the woods spoke directly into your mind? That it asked for help? Then it took your blood?

Though the wound convinced him he was sane and had actually expereienced the horror, he doubted anybody would believe him. So anybody who asked, he told them it was a scratch from a briar. He never sought the care of a doctor, for fear of disclosure. 

Somewhere outside Rivesville, in the hills and trees where the light fades quickly,  something seized an opportunity that night. Frederick couldn’t shake the bitter irony - he’d gone out hunting and returned empty-handed, only to find himself the one being preyed upon. His rifle hadn’t drawn blood, but the marks on his hand told their own story. Somewhere along that dark stretch of land, the hunter became the game.

Source: Humanoid Encounters 1965-1969 by Albert S. Rosales, Gray Barker 

Now Playing: "Vampire Blues" - Neil Young 

Famous Cases: The UFO of McMinnville, Oregon

In the spring of 1950, a quiet farming town in Oregon became the center of one of the most famous UFO cases in American history. What happened near McMinnville didn’t just spark curiosity - it ignited a debate that still hasn’t been fully settled.

It began with a simple claim. On May 11, Paul and Evelyn Trent reported seeing a strange, metallic object hovering silently in the sky near their farm just outside McMinnville. According to their account, the object appeared suddenly - disc-shaped, smooth, and unlike anything they had ever seen. There was no sound. No visible propulsion. Just a silent presence hanging in the air.

Paul Trent managed to grab a camera and snap two photographs before the object disappeared.

Those images would become the heart of the mystery.

One of the photos captured by Paul Trent.

Published weeks later in local newspapers and eventually picked up by national outlets, the photos captured what appeared to be a classic flying saucer tilting slightly against the sky. At a time when UFO sightings were becoming part of the cultural conversation, the Trent photographs stood out. They weren’t blurry lights or distant shapes - they were clear, detailed, and taken by ordinary people with no obvious motive for deception.

Investigators, including experts consulted by the U.S. Air Force, examined the images as part of early UFO studies. Over the years, analysts have argued both sides. Some suggested the object could have been a small model suspended by a string. Others found no definitive evidence of tampering, noting consistent lighting and shadow details that were difficult to fake convincingly at the time.

Decades later, the photos were even studied by teams working with NASA, adding another layer of intrigue. Yet no explanation has ever fully closed the case.

What makes the McMinnville sighting still relevant isn’t just the images - it’s the context. The Trents lived modestly and never tried to profit from their story. They stuck to their account for the rest of their lives, avoiding publicity rather than chasing it. In a field often clouded by hoaxes, audacity and exaggeration, their consistency has kept the case alive.

Artist Claudio Bergamin's portrayal of the McMinnville UFO 

(You can purchase Claudio Bergamin's art print here for $10.) 

Today, the town embraces its place in UFO lore. Every year in May, enthusiasts gather for the McMinnville UFO Festival, celebrating curiosity, skepticism, and the enduring question of whether we’re truly alone.

Seventy-five years later, the images remain unchanged - two quiet snapshots of something unexplained. Whether they captured a trick of perspective, a clever fabrication, or something genuinely unknown depends on who you ask.

But that’s the nature of mysteries like this. Seventy-five years later, we're still talking about it.

Now Playing: "Green Manalishi" - Judas Priest 

Claudio Bergamin's Art Page 

From the Forest to the Moon: Bigfoot on Artemis II

Somewhere between ancient forests and the vacuum of space, a familiar legend quietly crossed a new boundary.

When Jeremy Hansen of the Canadian Space Agency prepared for the Artemis II mission - a journey that carried humans around the Moon - he didn’t just bring science with him. He brought a story.

At the center of his mission patch, designed by Anishinaabe artist Henry Guimond, are the Seven Sacred Laws - teachings carried through generations. Each animal represents a human truth: respect, love, courage, wisdom, humility, truth…

And one stands apart. Sasquatch.

Not as a creature lurking in the woods, but as Sabe - a figure of honesty. A reminder to walk through the world with integrity, even when no one is watching.

It’s a strange kind of symmetry. For decades, Sasquatch has lived at the edge of belief - half myth, half possibility. His existence is one that people argue over, search for, dismiss, and defend. His presence is based on heresy. He lives in the Upside Down,  just outside of what's known to be real. 

Now he's ridden alongside humanity as we pushed into another unknown.

Space is our newest wilderness. It's full of questions we don’t yet have the language to ask. Because of that, Sasquatch fits there so well.

It's a quiet acknowledgment that even as we leave Earth, we carry our oldest ideas with us - the stories that taught us who we are long before rockets ever left the ground. 

On a mission defined by propulsion, mathmatic precision and engineering, there’s something comforting about knowing that the symbolic presence of Bigfoot, a legend lifted out of the forest, has voyaged to the Moon. 

More Weird Water: The Iowa Spring That Shouldn't Have Existed

In June of 1879, a man named George Satterlee struck something unexpected while searching for coal on land owned by N.T. Burroughs - an artesian well that would quickly gain a reputation as anything but ordinary. He stumbled onto something far stranger than black rock beneath the earth. What he found instead was water.

But not the kind you drink without thinking about it first.

This water did something. It had... powers.

At first, it was probably a curiosity. Someone dips a knife blade into the spring, pulls it back out… and suddenly it clings to metal. Nails. Needles. Small objects that should fall away instead stick, drawn in as if the water had given the blade a charge it shouldn’t possess.

Magnetized water. Even writing it feels wrong.

But the reports didn’t stop there.

Word spread that the water held “magnetic” properties. Locals claimed that leaving metal objects like nails or knives submerged for just ten minutes would magnetize them. Whether science or speculation, the phenomenon drew curiosity seekers and hopeful patients alike. 

Soon, the area transformed into a bustling health destination known as the Fountain House Sanitarium.

People started drinking the water, bathing, and immersing themselves in it. People who were experiencing chronic pain noticed that after sitting in the bath, pain seemed to withdraw from their joints and bones. It drew those with persistent aliments, including rheumatoid arthritis. Many believed it could treat conditions ranging from diabetes to addiction. And for those who came seeking relief, the water seemed to deliver.

Even when the water was bottled and carried away from its source, it didn’t lose whatever quality made it different. Whatever was in that spring wasn’t tied to the location alone. Even after being carried away from the spring, the water remained magnetized. 

For a brief window of time, it must have felt like they had found something rare. Maybe even something miraculous. And then, just as quietly as it appeared… it began to fade.

The resort never truly took hold. Interest waned. Whether it was skepticism, poor management, or something less tangible, the place didn’t prosper. The spring, once a source of fascination, slipped back into obscurity.

A city well was constructed nearby - practical, necessary, ordinary. But not long after, the spring dried up. Completely. As if whatever had been flowing beneath the surface had been disrupted… or diverted… or shut off entirely.

And that was it. No long-term studies. No preserved samples. No explanation. Just a strange pocket of time where water behaved in a way it shouldn’t, helped in ways it couldn’t, and then vanished without leaving anything behind but a story.

The original sanitarium is no longer present, but Magnetic Park continues to be a notable spot in Cherokee's local history, featuring a paved loop around a, perhaps, less-magnetic pond. The area is marked with historical information about the site's unique history.

Storm Road Apparition: What Was Walking That Night In Indiana?

Last week, I shared a story about the thing in the hallway - a strange entity a coworker claimed to see floating down the corridor at the school where we both work. Not long after, a reader reached out with her own account, one that unfolded on a rain-soaked stretch of highway near Bloomington, Indiana. What she described bears a chilling resemblance to the same anomaly. Her story is much scarier. 

There are certain stretches of road that feel… different.

Not dangerous, exactly. Not even haunted in the traditional sense. Just off. Like the trees grow a little too close, the hills block out more than they should, and whatever lives out there prefers not to be seen.

This account comes from a woman who experienced something on a storm-soaked highway outside of Bloomington, Indiana - something she still can’t explain over a decade later.

It was 2011, early Fall. Late on a Sunday night.

She had just dropped her son off at Indiana University in Bloomington and was heading home through Brown County. It's an area known for its dense woods, steep hills, and winding roads that cut straight through the Yellowwood State Forest.

By the time she merged onto the divided four-lane highway, the storm had taken hold. Rain slammed the asphalt, swallowing the road in a blur of water and shadow. It was the kind of weather that makes you second-guess everything - like maybe you missed a tornado warning somewhere back the way you came. There was no doubt about it now - she was deep in it.

At this particular stretch, the highway split around a thick grove of trees - so dense you couldn’t see the opposite lanes at all. Just darkness and forest. And relentless torrents of heavy rain. 

That’s when she saw it. Up ahead, walking along the shoulder.

At first glance, it looked like a person. Dressed entirely in black, hood pulled up, moving uphill toward her. But something was off immediately - not only was it impossibly tall - but it was moving faster than it should have been, especially given the steep incline and the conditions.

Her first thought was simple enough: “Someone’s having a really bad night.” Car trouble, maybe. Stranded in the storm.

She slowed as she drew even with the figure - and that's when it turned. 

She describes the moment carefully, even years later.

It didn’t look like a normal face. Not blank. Not invisible. But not right...

“It was almost like the Scream mask,” she said. “But without the mouth. Just… the shape of a face. And eyes. Big, unnatural eyes.”

At that moment, something hit her. It wasn't a sound nor a voice. It was something else.

A strong feeling. A command.

Don’t even THINK about stopping.

It wasn’t a passing thought. It was overwhelming. Immediate. Absolute.

Her stomach dropped so hard it brought tears to her eyes. Fear, yes, but not panic. More like a deep, instinctual warning. The kind that bypasses logic.

And strangest of all… it didn’t feel like it came from her. It felt like it came from IT.  The message came without words: This has nothing to do with you. Keep going.

She did.

But like anyone trying to make sense of the impossible, doubt crept in almost  immediately.

Was it a prank? Someone messing around?

It didn’t make sense. Not out there. Not in that storm. Not at that hour. So she turned around.

Less than a mile down the road, she took the nearest cut-through, looping back toward where she had seen the figure. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes - eight at the absolute most.

The road was empty - no person, no car, no trace that anyone had been there at all. And yet, by every law of science and physics, something should have been.

There were no nearby homes. No businesses. Just dense forest and steep drop-offs. Even the nearest exit required driving all the way toward the outskirts of Bloomington and looping back.

Whatever she saw had nowhere to go. And yet, it was gone.

The drive home didn’t get easier.

She described praying the rest of the way. Not out of panic, but from the lingering weight of that moment - the feeling of being seen, fully and completely.

“It felt like it looked through my entire body,” she said.

That wasn’t the end of it, either. To this day, whenever she travels through  that area - often camping nearby - she finds herself scanning the roadside. Looking for something out of place, or some clue, or some explanation.

But of course, there never is one.

Just trees and hills. Just that stretch of highway where, for a brief moment in 2011, something stood in the rain… and made it very clear she wasn’t meant to be messed with.

Some encounters leave you with questions. Others leave you with answers you don’t fully understand. Somewhere between the storm and the trees that night, the impossible stepped onto the road. 

And then, just like that, it stepped out of it.

Now Playing: "A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall" - Bob Dylan 

Out of the Shadows: A Conversation with the Phantom AD

By day, he’s a substitute teacher keeping classrooms in line - but when the sun drops and nighttime's shadow prevails, he becomes something else entirely. Draped in a flowing cape, crowned with a wild afro, and channeling the spirit of late-night creature features, The Phantom emerges from the darkness as a solitary pulse of chaos. 

His sound - what he calls Ghoulish Rock N’ Roll - is a fever-dream fusion of surf riffs, garage grit, and rockabilly swagger, all soaked in the eerie glow of vintage horror. It’s not for Squares, man - It's a midnight transmission from the strange side of the dial, where bats swoop from the skies, monsters dance and bones rattle. 

He’s a musical anomaly who fell in love with rock ’n’ roll at an early age. Elvis Presley, The Big Bopper, and Jerry Lee Lewis formed the soundtrack of his childhood, shaping a sound he would never truly leave behind. Even as a teenager, when punk rock took hold, that foundation remained intact. Bands like Circle Jerks, T.S.O.L., and The Cramps helped define who he was becoming, while artists such as Screaming Lord Sutch and Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs added the final, distinctive touches to his musical identity.

From his website:

My name is Harley Isaac Rother, known to many as The Phantom. The day I was born, the hospital echoed with the defiant sound of Rock N’ Roll, - It’s been obsession ever since.

When I was in Kindergarten, every kid in the class was assigned to bring in a song to share. Drawn by the sinister laugh that starts the tune and the good time surf rock beat, I brought in Wipe Out by The Safaris. I assumed every kid would bring in something rockin’ and it would be a wild party. I was shocked when I was the only kid who brought in a Rock N’ Roll song tune. It was at the moment that I knew I was different.

He's bringing his legion of one to Des Moines on June 14. He is playing at The Haunt - a basement bar located at 500 Locust Street in the East Village. Only 65 tickets are available, and by today's standards, they are cheap. So act fast! This event is already half way sold out. You can purchase tickets here. If you live outside of Iowa, his tour schedule is posted above. We here at Blue Banana cannot emphasize enough the Bona-Fidelity of this show. 

I dusted off the Ouija Board, conjured the Phantom for a minute, and asked him a few questions. 

Who - or what - is Phantom AD?

I am The Phantom A.D. the purveyor of Ghoulish Rock ‘N’ Roll music. I release rock n roll music on LP, CD and streaming and tour the country. I’ll be doing shows in at least 40 different cities this year in the North, East, South and West. I’m my own booking agent, manager and record label. 100% independent!

Tell us about yourself. What drives you? What are your guilty pleasures? What celebrity was your high school crush? 

My real name is Harley Isaac Rother and I make music as The Phantom A.D. I always loved rock n roll like Little Richard, Chuck Berry and Jerry Lee Lewis and I didn't ever hear much of anyone playing that type of music in a way that felt exciting - so that’s been my mission - making high energy rock n roll but for today. If you come to my show you’ll see I don't do a single slow song and I’ll be drenched in sweat when I’m finished. And hopefully you will be too! The other aspect is to combine all that with a classic horror appeal. Like Bela Lugosi but with a guitar. 

Hey this is four questions in one! That's ok. My biggest guilty pleasure is probably collecting stuff. I like old toys, music and horror movie memorabilia. I also like competition reality shows like Beast Games and Squid Games Challenge.

Chyna (RIP!) is my celebrity crush. She was dangerous and sexy. The perfect combo. 

Tell me about a specific paranormal experience you've had. 

A fortune teller cast a spell on me which led me to be attacked by monsters and transform into The Phantom. It’s documented in my music video for Heeby Jeebies.

Monsters are often metaphors - fear, isolation, transformation. What do they represent to you?

To me they're just cool! Everyone loves animals and monsters are like extreme animals. Gorillas are cool but a giant gorilla is even cooler!

A lot of horror deals with fear - what’s something that genuinely unsettles you in real life?

Poverty and injustice. I’ve been blessed to travel a lot in the last few years and in every American city there's people sleeping on the street, ghettos and visible desperation. It doesn't have to be like that. In Japan and a lot of European countries those things don’t exist. I’m constantly donating to people’s Go Fund Me's because they have medical bills they can't pay for. Again that's a fixable issue that other countries don't have but we as a society choose to let people fend for themselves if they get sick and don't have insurance that covers it. ANYWAY

Your music, while rooted with the Safaris, and the Cramps, still  has that kitschy vibe to it, like "Monster's Holiday" by Buck Owens. Who would you say is the one band or performer that has influenced you the most? 

Sam The Sham and The Pharaohs! I loved Wooly Bully the first time I heard it and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. They have tons of great songs. Everything they did was fun from the name to the costumes to the music. Sam did the most with the least. He wasn't a highly skilled musician yet he created a totally unique and recognizable sound on his organ. You can hear that Wooly Bully beat on a lot of his songs like JuJu Hand, Ring Dang Doo and others. He also has a song called The Phantom that influenced me in an obvious way. 

There’s a line from Lux Interior: “I’m not a musician, I’m an entertainer.” Do you relate to that at all, or do you see Phantom AD as something different? 

I relate to the entertainer part because I think people find my live show entertaining and that's my goal. But I am also a musician. I’ve been playing guitar my whole life and it's important to me to be at top level musically. The Phantom A.D. is very guitar centric and I’m influenced by great guitar players ranging from Dick Dale to Django Rhineheart.

   Phantom AD says, "Monsters are like extreme animals!" 

If you could score a movie about any cryptid or monster, what would it be?

Bigfoot!

Similarly, What real-world legend or cryptid deserves a Phantom AD soundtrack?

Well there's a song on my new album called Even Sasquatch Wants to Rock which will be coming out in May. It's a true story about the time Sasquatch joined me on stage because he wanted to play ghoulish rock n roll. Satch is a killer guitar player!

I feel like I should ask about Screaming Jay Hawkins, but honestly man? I've got nothing. He's so damn good, though, right? 

Yeah, I love him. We have the same birthday, July 18th. He famously had 57 kids and I never met my biological father, so ya never know… 

You're playing in Des Moines on June 14. Those of us who are attending your show - what do we need to know? 

It's at an actual haunted house called The Haunt - or maybe it's a haunted bar? The only thing you need is to prepare to have a good time! That and you will need a ticket which I would recommend buying now at thephantomad.com/the-haunt . There's only room for 65 people and as of April 10th, 20 tickets have already sold and the show isn't until June 14 - so this will sell out! Get tickets now!

Now Playing: "Halloween 4" - We Are the Asteroid