It all started when we found some Mrs. Claus dolls at a craft store . . . This film unravels a slightly disturbing family tale of continued incest in a surreal, gritty, distant world . . . at the end of your street. This is what I like to call “homemade found footage”: an addition to the piles of forgotten, rotting, celliloid garbage, complete with burnt out sisters, baby-stealing weasels, and rusty-scissor surgery. For your voyeuristic viewing pleasure

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