In which Mia & Caitlin revisit the super formative YA horror series and discover that RL Stine’s writing--and the way he saw women--was pure trash. But the books were so beautifully formulaic that we were able to devour three at a time at age ten. Conversation quickly veers into how we miss our adolescent imagination and its ability to conjure drawn-out, detailed crush fantasies. Shout-out to B. Dalton and Waldenbooks, but mostly B. Dalton.