A micro-budget, hourlong bundle of blood-soaked joy that will make you double-check the credits for Herschell Gordon Lewis’s name somewhere. You won’t find it. This was written and directed by one T.L.P. Swicegood, which a more suspicious mind than mine might take for a pseudonym from someone who felt that his resume was best without a clumsily made film about a murderous mortician and a restaurant that secretly serves human meat. Or maybe Swicegood was annoyed after the movie’s harshest gore, which legend has it came from real life surgical footage, got chopped out. The uncut double vomit bag version has since vanished off the face of the Earth, which is no big deal because what’s left is one loony tunes black comedy that sneaks ridiculous kiddie jokes next to brutal bludgeonings. Someone on planet Earth might find the killers here be a little scary, disguised behind motorcycle helmets and goggles, but once one of them accidentally steps on a skateboard and flies slapstick-style down the sidewalk, all of the hot air is officially let out. Campy comedy is the secret ingredient behind the lasting appeal of Herschell Gordon Lewis’s 1960s drive-in gore fests and this little artifact may top him when it comes to laughs. It’s the only directing credit for this mysterious Swicegood character, which is too bad. Had he made more films, they could have been advertised with the tagline It’s not just good, it’s Swicegood!