Get. Out.

When the book, “The Amityville Horror,” came out, my sister, brother-in-law, and I all read it together.

I spent a lot of time with them in the summer of 1978. Every evening we'd set aside time to sit together and took turns reading chapters aloud.

Don’t ask me what possessed us to do such a thing but it was cool. Especially when you read with feeling and made up accents, etc.

Anyway, months later, we saw a movie trailer and were totally thrilled because we’d all read the book and couldn’t wait to see what they’d do with it on the big screen.

The night finally came and while we waited in the long line at the movie theater box office, my brother-in-law mentioned that no matter what they did, it wouldn’t be as good as the book.

My sister and I assumed he meant that books were rarely transferred accurately onto the screen, but we asked him why he thought so anyway.

His answer? Because you wouldn’t be able to smell it.

My sister and I looked at each other with wide-eyed confusion and then we looked back at him and asked sarcastically, “well, um, like you could you smell the book???!?”

And then came the laughter, followed by more laughter, and then followed by a red-faced, embarrassed man telling two girls to kiss his ass.

We gave him crap about that for years and every now and then we rub it in again and still laugh just as hard as we did then.

And he’s still as embarrassed as the day he said it and knows he will never live it down. And then, once more, he tells us to kiss his ass.

If the director would've had half of that kind of an imagination, the movie would've been great!

But as it turned out, he was right afterall - the book was better. And even though you couldn't smell the movie, it certainly did stink.