This Old School Spirit Is Ready for Usual Haunt : Halloween: Knott’s Monster College turns out ghouls in a class by themselves--bruised, bloodied and about as terrifying as they can be.

Before it was all over, my clothes were a tattered confusion of shredded rags. The left side of my face was a purplish-black swollen mass of ruptured skin. A heavy, black three-inch bolt protruded from my cheek and jagged flaps of torn, blackened flesh oozed sticky rivulets of half-congealed blood.

If this sounds like a typical Saturday night scene at the local trauma center, guess again.

It’s all make-believe--the end result of a two-hour trek into the world of high-tech masquerade and imagination that was Knott’s Berry Farm’s first “Monster College,” a fun-filled crash course designed to change common nurses, executives and students into the gibbering zombies, snarling werewolves and flesh-eating ghouls that will roam the streets of Ghost Town at the park’s annual Halloween Haunt starting Friday through Oct. 31.

I was among about 60 ghoul-school graduates--narrowed down through interviews and auditions from more than 300 applicants--who completed last week’s special training. Dean of Monster College was professional acting coach Dick Monday, who was provided generous portions of gore by Hollywood makeup artist Abel Zeballos.

It all started at 10 a.m. as Knott’s director of public relations Stuart Zanville declared the college in session: “Today you will maintain a tradition,” he said. “Your mission: to create nightmares.” That would not, however, include fomenting any nightmares for the park’s operators--each participant was handed a booklet with guidelines on exactly what is and isn’t acceptable behavior from the actors.

After watching a 10-minute video of highlights from last year’s Haunt, which featured various ghouls scaring the daylights out of squealing teen-age girls, we finally got down to our frightful business.

We started with a series of simple stretching exercises designed to maximize our lurching and leaping potential while minimizing the risks of pulled muscles and wrenched backs.

While Monday instructed us about proper character acting technique for monsters, Zeballos and his assistants began treating two volunteer “victims” to full facial make-overs, transforming them into longtime Haunt favorites, Lion Man and the Pig Sister.

Foam latex prosthetic snouts, eye bags, jowls and other features had been glued to their faces. The artists were busy blending and stippling the appliances with brown, tan and flesh-tone grease paints. Eventually, they would be fitted with hairpieces and clothing to complete the characters.

Down on the floor on Monday’s orders, we squirmed around on our bellies, making hissing noises as we pretended to be snakes. On his command we slithered our way back to human form and became snarling man-eating grizzly bears lusting for human flesh. A moment later we were slinking, hissing black cats prowling through the night.

In another exercise, Monday prodded our imaginations along a mental obstacle course.

“Imagine you’re walking in Jell-O,” he suggested. “Feel the Jell-O as it squishes between your toes. Now, imagine that you’re trying to run in two feet of honey. It’s hard to pull your feet off the ground. It’s awfully gooey feeling!” Monday also coached us in expressing the full range of human emotion, first using our eyes, then our full faces and finally our entire bodies. At one moment he would have us standing stock still, the next we would be quaking in unrestrained hysteria, sobbing uncontrollably or flailing about in full-on rage.

I was called before the audience and asked to conjure up my most sinister laugh. The sound that emerged was a low, baritone, gasping guffaw that was kind of like Darth Vader doing an impersonation of Dwight Fry’s Renfield from the original “Dracula” movie.

A blond woman of about 20 was selected to demonstrate her screaming technique. The noise was enough to make even the most hardened horror fan take to the hills.

Eventually my turn at the makeup table came. I scuttled over to the stage where Zeballos’ assistant was waiting with a sinister smirk--”bolt” in hand. It was a latex appliance called a “small” prosthetic, molded from an actual sculpted piece and complete with the aforementioned jagged flaps of torn flesh. The assemblage was glued to my face with a surgical adhesive, and various layers of makeup were applied to smooth out and blend in the edges.

Zeballos then began dabbing and stippling in various hues of grease paint and pancake makeup to bring out the sickly purple and black bruises, the pink, puffy swollen areas and their surrounding yellowing dead skin. The topper was the oozing, semi-congealed blood, a product closely resembling the “Vampire’s Blood” that can be purchased just about everywhere at this time of year.

Meanwhile, my fellow classmates rummaged through a vast pile of rubber masks of half-rotted corpses, pointy-eared demons, toothy dragons, skulls and hairy animal-things. Also available was an equally vast array of grotesque, gnarled claws and gloves.

Heads in hand, the would-be creatures of the night were delivered into the care of costume designer Pam Tallman, who helped them choose clothing and accessories to match their characters.

Makeup complete, my bolt protruding from my cheek, my face bruised and bloodied, I strolled proudly over to one of Tallman’s assistants, who helped me into a cumbersome, hooded shroud that looked like a shredded, moth-eaten army blanket.

I joined the throng of ghouls and hobgoblins who were milling about waiting to line up for photos and diplomas.

Our graduating class was quite a sight: A couple of walking corpses with rotted, empty, eye sockets and rictuses of blackened teeth were talking to a tall, evil-looking, pointy-eared demon who looked a lot like Nosferatu. The Phantom of the Opera, complete with acid-burned face, top hat and tails mugged for reporters. A hooded reptilian darted through the crowd making for the restrooms. Pig Sister and Lion Man were posing like stars for photographers and video crews.

About this time, Zanville and his assistants began handing out white paper graduation caps. We were then assembled before the stage to pose for a class picture.

Next came our “diplomas”--honorary certificates of MBA (Monsters, Beasts & Apparitions). In true collegiate form, we all threw our caps in the air as “Pomp and Circumstance” droned in the background.

Later, as I left the building, I couldn’t help but feel a new weight of self-importance in knowing I was part of the very first graduating class of Monster College.

I wondered whether my new-found prestige would mean a higher level of respect from my peers. I speculated on the dozens of lucrative job offers that surely would come my way.

Mostly, though, I wondered whether my alumni status would get me first crack at choice seats for future Halloween Haunts.

Knott’s Berry Farm’s annual “Halloween Haunt,” runs Friday through Oct. 31 at the park, 8039 Beach Blvd., Buena Park. Includes a “Shock & Rock” music and dance revue with Elvira, a hypnotist show, a laser light show, a “human oddities” show, live melodrama, special thrill rides, street entertainment and more. Hours: 7 p.m. to 1 a.m. Friday and Oct. 29, 30 and 31; to 2 a.m. this Saturday and Oct. 20, 21, 27 and 28. Admission: $19 to $20. Information: (714) 220-5200.