Editorials
The 13 Best Episodes of ‘Courage the Cowardly Dog’
We interrupt this program to bring you our favorite episodes of Courage the Cowardly Dog.
This November 2022 makes it twenty years since the Courage the Cowardly Dog series officially ended. A staple in 90s kid memories, Courage the Cowardly Dog ran for four seasons on Cartoon Network from 1999-2002. Directed and created by John R. Dilworth, the series covered a wealth of nightmarish imagery and ideals, ranging from classic horror tropes such as alien abduction and demonic possession to unique frights such as a possessed gangster foot fungus and evil bananas. Only this show could simultaneously deliver some of the most unsettling cartoon frights alongside the silliest resolutions.
The 13 Best Episodes of Courage the Cowardly Dog
Through horror or heartbreak, these are the episodes that made a life-lasting impression through memorable monsters and are forever solidified as my favorite episodes of Courage the Cowardly Dog. In solidarity with every season consisting of 13 episodes, this list comprises 13 titles.
13. “The Chicken from Outerspace” (Pilot)
The one that started it all. 90s kids were acquainted with Courage long before the show first premiered in 1999, thanks to this episode. Three years earlier, in 1996, the Cartoon Network series What a Cartoon aired what would serve as the pilot episode of Courage the Cowardly Dog. The VHS release of Scooby-Doo and The Witch’s Ghost also featured this episode. The mental image of Eustace eating the red-spotted alien eggs and turning into a chicken himself still disturbs me today.
12. “The Magic Tree of Nowhere” (S2 Ep1)
One of the only episodes on the list where it is not the shudder-inducing factor that led to its inclusion. This heartfelt story showed that sometimes the regular people are the real monsters. Eustace stops at nothing to destroy the tree which has captured Muriel’s attention. In a fit of jealousy and much to his wife’s and Courage’s dismay, he chops the magic wishing tree down. The tragic tale and the tree’s human mouth (along with nostalgic parallels to Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree) made this episode memorable.
11. “Profiles in Courage” (S4 Ep6)
The carcass that remains after paper cameos with a mind of their own suck the essence from The Bagges is horrific enough alone to bear mention upon this list. The episode doesn’t stop the horror there, however, as Eustace and Muriel are transformed into paper versions of themselves and suffer numerous paper-related catastrophes, including blowing uncontrollably in the wind, a pin through the hand, and catching fire. The hesitant, robotic way in which the paper versions of Eustace and Muriel speak punctuates all the creepy visuals. From start to finish, the episode is shiver-inducing.
10. “Queen of the Black Puddle” (S1 Ep9)
Featuring a water spirit who can arise from any liquid surface, the icon status of this villain alone merits her inclusion. Known for taking on an attractive form for her intended victim, she first seduces them and then drags them to her watery lair. Once they arrive, the queen takes on a hideous shape. Her domain is revealed to be littered with the bones of all of her previous victims.
The Black Puddle Queen is believed to have the highest kill count versus any other villain in the Courage the Cowardly Dog universe, given the number of skeletons shown in her lair.
9. “Campsite Terror” (S3 Ep2)
As the opening credits and scenes play idyllic classical music (specifically Morning Mood by Edvard Grieg) and open to a shot of the Bagges happily camping in the wilderness, the episode is immediately unsettling. The other shoe will surely drop at any moment. Then night falls. By the time Eustace goes missing, the music has transformed into foreboding organ playing. Enter a robber raccoon duo who kidnaps Muriel and ties up Courage.
While the monsters themselves aren’t scary on their own, the episode’s score bouncing back and forth from peaceful to sinister creates memorable tension. The creepiest part is when Muriel is discovered, with the raccoons unharmed. They are watching something on TV that is scarier than most of the Courage monsters combined: John R Dilworth’s face with dead eyes plastered on old-school Godzilla footage. Nightmare fuel? Oh yes, sir.
8. “The Demon in the Mattress” (S1 Ep3)
After responding to an ad for a “life-changing” new bed, the mattress proves to have a life of its own. The episode quickly becomes reminiscent of The Exorcist as Muriel speaks in a deep voice, and her head begins to spin around. In lieu of Latin bible verses, the Dilworth treatment of the classic horror film sees Eustace performing an exorcism by reciting: “Hullaballoo and howdy do. Musty prawns and Timbuktu”
7. “Journey to the Center of Nowhere” (S1 Ep12)
Something is intriguing about plants wanting to level the playing field and fight back against their predators. Naturally, the episode where Courage discovers a herd of vengeance-seeking eggplants was bound to make this list. When Courage infiltrates the group donning an eggplant costume, we are treated to a taste of eggplant religion as they all begin to hail the Great Eggplant who has spoken.
They express their desire to get revenge on those who grow them just to eat them, which creates my favorite brand of dichotomy that causes us to ask: “Is the villain evil?”. Though the question would be answered by the end of the episode, as all the eggplants needed was some water to turn them into a bunch of peace-loving, tranquil eggplants once more. Dilworth put gardeners under advisement with this episode: ensure your eggplants get sufficient water.
6. “Everyone Wants to Direct” (S1 Ep9)
Featuring a zombified Benton Tarantella, who advertises himself as a horror director and shows up at the house in the middle of Nowhere. He tells the Bagge family he is there to film a horror movie, to which both Eustace and Muriel are delighted. The true horror of the episode comes into play when Courage asks his computer about the visitor. That’s when he learns the terrifying truth: Benton Tarantella and his partner Errol Von Volkheim used to pose as horror movie directors and enact actual violence.
Though they were both imprisoned and long since deceased, Tarantella rose from the grave to revive his former partner, buried beneath the Nowhere house. Between the deceit, resurrection scene, and the existence of hungry serial killer zombies, this episode had all of the trappings to give little me nightmares.
5. “Perfect” (S4 Ep13)
The episode that ended it all. The finale showed viewers that sometimes our brains are our own worst enemies. Following Courage’s quest to be perfect, he is put through stringent coaching lessons. He suffers a stream of anxiety-induced nightmares until the frightened dog looks arguably worse off than ever depicted in the series. Courage ends the episode with the lesson that no one is perfect, and the quest to be that way can squander opportunities for fun. Only once Courage ignores the rude words of others and marches to the beat of his own drum does he find happiness.
4. “King Ramses Curse” (S1 Ep7)
This episode has become the cult favorite of the series, as it has countless memes and mentions in remembrance. Following King Ramses’s apparition, anyone possessing the cursed slab finds themselves subjected to plagues of water, locusts, and deafening music. But the creepy, ethereal voice of King Ramses made the episode the fan favorite that it is today. “Return the slab or suffer my curse.”
3. “Freaky Fred” (S1 Ep3)
Speaking in rhymes reminiscent of a crossover between Dr. Seuss and Sweeney Todd, the titular Freaky Fred makes an ominous appearance at his cousin Muriel Bagge’s house, punctuating every rhyming stanza with Fred explaining that he’s been “naughty.” As the episode continues, it becomes clear that Fred’s brand of mischief involves shaving people and pets bald against their wishes. As Fred has Courage cornered in the bathroom and gives him a forced haircut, one thing is sure: Of all the episodes, this one is the most unsettling.
2. “Evil Weevil” (S2 Ep11)
The show begins innocently enough, in Courage terms. Eustace accidentally hits a bug while driving; a human-sized butler bug in a suit, tie, and top hat. Muriel invites the weevil home with them, and he proves to be a pleasant buggy butler. However, it isn’t long before one particularly nightmarish scene shows his hose nose retracting back into him, followed immediately by a shot of an emaciated Eustace. The weevil was evil and was sucking the life force from the Bagges. After Eustace withers to dust and Muriel is reduced to skin and bones, Courage turns the tables by using the weevil’s snout against it. Altogether entertaining, ick-inducing, and horrific. A fantastic episode.
1. “The Great Fusilli” (S1 Ep13)
From the creepy music starting at the title card to a mysterious vehicle that opens to a stage piloted by an Italian alligator telling Eustace and Muriel to “see the stage come alive,” it’s immediately clear that viewers are in for a ride with this one. For many of us 90’s kids, this episode served as our memorable introduction to the linguistic warm-up: “how now, brown cow.” By the end, the creepy images of clowns and freakish disembodied applause were at the back of everyone’s minds.
In my favorite and most remembered moment of the series, Courage stumbles across Fusilli’s room filled with former people-turned puppets. Then strings erupt from the mouths of comedy tragedy masks and turn Eustace and Muriel into marionettes themselves. While not every episode ends on a happy note, this marked a time when he could not save Muriel from the threat. Though he inhibited her from becoming a part of Fusilli’s collection, this did not change the fact that by the end of the episode, Fusilli had turned Courage’s family into lifeless puppets.
Through all these episodes, Courage the Cowardly Dog made a lasting impact on both my childhood and my memory. How many of your favorite episodes made the cut? Is there any you wish had been included? Sound off in the comments, and stream episodes of Courage the Cowardly Dog at HBO Max.
When Creature from the Black Lagoon splashed onto screens in 1954, it gave birth to a very specific kind of horror lineage. The Gill-man became shorthand for aquatic terror, spawning sequels, remakes, homages, and an entire design language of webbed hands, dorsal fins, and rubber-suited menace. Decades later, Hollywood is still wading in that same water. Shark thrillers, deep-sea survival films, mutated piranha, colossal squids; the mechanics change, the budgets grow, but the imagination rarely leaves the lagoon. All the while, an entire ocean of water spirits: older, stranger, and far more psychologically terrifying, remain largely untouched. I’m talking about Mami Wata.
Who Is Mami Wata?
I’m Nigerian, and my first encounter with Mami Wata wasn’t through film or television but through my grandmother’s stories. The descriptions were consistent across tellings: impossibly beautiful women with flowing hair, luminous skin, and eyes that seemed to reflect light even in darkness. They appeared near rivers, lakes, shorelines — always half-revealed. The upper body was woman. The lower half, fish.
What unsettled me wasn’t just the imagery but the certainty. My grandmother didn’t narrate these encounters as distant folklore. She spoke about sightings, about people who had seen her, about behaviors one was expected to follow around certain waters. You didn’t swim in particular rivers. You didn’t wear certain colors near the shoreline. And you never interfered with offerings left at the water’s edge.
I didn’t need Universal Studios to teach me that water was dangerous. Mami Wata wasn’t a movie monster. She was real. That distinction between spectacle and belief is where the divide between Western aquatic horror and African water cosmology truly begins.
When Water Has Memory
Western water monsters tend to operate on biological logic. The shark in Jaws is hungry. The predators in Piranha are territorial. Even more fantastical aquatic beings, from the Gill-man to the amphibious figures in Guillermo del Toro’s films, are framed as species with instincts, habitats, and vulnerabilities. They can be tracked, studied, and eventually killed. The horror is physical.
African water spirits operate on metaphysical logic. They are not random predators but enforcers of balance, custodians of spiritual agreements, embodiments of moral consequence. If a water spirit targets someone, the cause is rarely accidental. Something has been violated, promised, inherited, or ignored. The fear is not of being eaten but of being claimed.
The Diasporic Reach of Mami Wata: From West Africa to the Atlantic
This cosmological framing transforms aquatic horror from a survival narrative into an existential reckoning. You cannot harpoon a covenant. You cannot dynamite a spiritual debt. If the water is calling, it is calling for a reason, and that reason may predate you.
Part of what makes Mami Wata so cinematically rich and so underutilized is that she is not a singular entity but a vast spiritual continuum stretching across regions and diasporas. There are a thousand different variations of this spirit, and no one is truer than the other.
Senegal, she manifests as Mame Coumba Bang, a river guardian presence tied to protection and retribution. In Haitian Vodou, her energies merge with La Sirène, a mermaid lwa associated with beauty, wealth, and the depths. In Brazil and across the Afro-Atlantic religious sphere, her echoes appear in Yemanjá, the maternal oceanic force honored in coastal ceremonies. This Yemanja is just a transliteration of the Yoruba Orisha (celestial spirits of the Yoruba culture) called Yemoja, revered as the “Mother of All” or “Mother of All Fishes”, and the guardian of water, motherhood, and fertility.
Despite regional variations, core iconography persists: mirrors, combs, serpents, flowing hair, radiant adornment, and the promise or danger of prosperity. She is seductive but sovereign, generous but exacting, beautiful but never harmless. That multiplicity alone gives her more narrative elasticity than most cinematic monsters, whose mythologies are often fixed and biologically bounded.
Mami Wata (2023)
Mami Wata in Contemporary Horror Cinema
Film has approached this cosmology cautiously but meaningfully in recent years.
Nikyatu Jusu’s Nanny (2022) offers one of the most psychologically layered depictions. The film follows Aisha, a Senegalese immigrant working in New York, whose life becomes threaded with visions of Mame Coumba Bang. Water appears everywhere: bathtubs, swimming pools, reflective surfaces transforming modern infrastructure into spiritual thresholds. The haunting is tied to grief, migration, motherhood, and sacrifice, presenting the water spirit as an emotional and cosmological force rather than a jump-scare device.
C.J. “Fiery” Obasi’s Mami Wata (2023) takes a more mythic approach. Shot in stark monochrome, the film portrays a coastal village structured around devotion to a water deity embodied through a human intermediary. As belief fractures, so does communal stability. The horror emerges not from attack but from spiritual imbalance, aligning the film more with atmospheric folk horror than creature features.
Even outside explicit depictions, diasporic media has drawn from the imagery. Lovecraft Country incorporates mermaid and water-spirit symbolism tied to Black feminine transformation. Beyoncé’s Black Is King floods its visual language with aquatic rebirth imagery; flowing fabrics, submerged figures, reflective ritual spaces invoking water as passage. The archetype is already present onscreen. It simply hasn’t yet been centered within a full-scale horror framework.
Erotic Horror and the Siren Archetype in Mami Wata Lore
One of the most cinematically potent aspects of Mami Wata mythology lies in how it intersects with erotic horror, though not through the framework Western audiences might expect.
She is not typically described as maintaining human lovers or demanding sexual exclusivity in the manner of succubi or possession demons. Her seduction is visual, atmospheric, and spatial. In many riverine and coastal accounts, she appears to fishermen or travelers as a breathtaking woman poised just above the waterline, adorned in jewelry, her hair impossibly still despite the wind.
Her beauty is disarming rather than aggressive. She beckons without words, drawing men closer step by step, deeper into the water, past the point where retreat is easy. By the time the illusion fractures, the shoreline is distant and the water heavy around the body. She pulls them under, sometimes violently, sometimes with an eerie calm inevitability. This places her closer to siren mythology than to Western erotic demons, her beauty functioning as a gravitational force.
Literature Has Long Understood Her Terror
While cinema is only beginning to explore these waters, literature, particularly African and diasporic speculative fiction, has spent decades charting them.
Amos Tutuola’s The Palm-Wine Drinkard presents one of the earliest surreal landscapes where seductive river spirits and feminine supernatural entities blur beauty with existential threat. The protagonist’s encounters unfold in dream logic, where attraction overrides caution and spirits operate according to unfamiliar moral rules. The instability of desire wanting to move closer despite danger mirrors the psychological pull found in Mami Wata lore.
Ben Okri expands this cosmology in The Famished Road. Though centered on an abiku (a child destined for an early death), the novel’s watery metaphysics are constant. Rivers function as liminal highways between worlds, and feminine presences tied to water drift through the narrative like half-seen memories. Okri’s horror is not violent but permeable. The material world feels thin, easily breached, as though something vast waits just beneath its surface tension.
Helen Oyeyemi’s The Icarus Girl channels similar unease through psychological haunting. Mirrored selves, spirit doubles, and invasive presences echo Mami Wata’s reflective themes, especially the idea that one can be watched, claimed, or shadowed by a presence from beyond visible reality.
Nnedi Okorafor’s Akata Witch and its sequels places water spirits within a broader African magical system. In these books, wealth and power connect to spiritual forces older than modern nations. Even when Mami Wata is not directly named, the cosmology she belongs to, rivers as sentient boundaries, spirits as binding forces, remains intact. When she was talking about describing the beings from her Akata series, Okorafor noted, “You would be shocked by how much I don’t have to make up.”
Literature succeeds where film often hesitates because it can inhabit interiority. It can describe the humidity of river air, the hypnotic shimmer of reflected light, the emotional dissonance of wanting to step forward even when danger is understood. Readers feel the seduction and the dread simultaneously. The terror lies not in attack but in recognition in sensing the water knows you.
Why Mami Wata is Horror’s Most Untapped Goldmine
Modern horror has already shown an appetite for spirit-driven fear. Films like Hereditary, The Witch, and His House prove audiences are willing to engage with spiritual systems, ancestral consequence, and metaphysical dread. Aquatic horror, however, remains largely trapped in biological threat models.
Mami Wata offers something far richer; a mythology where water remembers, seduces, rewards, and reclaims. Where beauty is as dangerous as teeth. Where drowning can be spiritual as much as physical. For Black History Month especially, I’m sure engaging these features through horror is cultural storytelling; preserving oral traditions and diasporic continuity through cinematic language. Hollywood has spent seventy years circling the same lagoon.
Meanwhile, somewhere between the rivers of West Africa, the diasporic Atlantic, and the reflective surface of a midnight pool, a far older presence waits for the camera to find her. Preferably through a mirror she’s already holding.
Henry Selick’s return to the director’s chair after Coraline, represents righteousness, anti-authoritarianism, and the subtle art of not giving a fuck. With the support of Monkeypaw Productions and Jordan Peele in the writers’ room, Wendell & Wild crossed the cult classic finish line with a new round of applause from the wide intersections of punk rockers of color. A community, might I add, that historically has never stood to be disrespected.
Who Are Wendell & Wild?
The title refers to a witless pair of demon brothers, voiced by Peele and former Key & Peele co-star Keegan-Michael Key. In its early stages, the pair, along with Sister Helley (Angela Bassett), would lead the story. To explore themes of navigating trauma, anti-capitalism, gentrification, and how our justice systems set Black youth up to fail, though, Katherine “Kat” Koniqua Elliot (Lyric Ross) had to have taken the helm.
Kat’s character design forced a shift in Wendell & Wild’s sound. Heavily inspired by Brooklyn’s Afropunk festival, her hair is green, she rocks facial piercings, what I imagine are a pair of Demonia boots, and a DIY school uniform. The social commentary already aligns with the framework of original punk values. Why not make it a 3-for-3 and line it with the real world soundtrack of Black punk, as a young one reclaiming the righteousness left by punks before her. When we first meet the Elliott family, Kat and her father are seen wearing matching Fishbone band tees while their song “Ma and Pa” plays underneath. This small detail stands out, as punk these days is commonly hereditary, and used to teach positive righteousness in communities of color; not always simply born out of rebellion.
Henry Selick, Fishbone, and the Afropunk Connection
What the general public failed to see under the shadow of The Nightmare Before Christmas, was the strong allyship between the art of Selick, and generational Black punk movements. His love of the sound led him to direct the music video for Fishbone’s “Party at Ground Zero” in 1985, and his appreciation for the Afropunk next gen basically created the look and idea of Kat. Selick and music supervisor Rob Lowry knew that “punk songs offer more than energy and rebellion; they show the deep connection between Afro-Punk Kat and her father, Delroy, a first gen Black punk fan”. Delroy isn’t present for Kat’s journey, but his boombox is, allowing his songs of Black punk to drive and support his daughter through a system we know wasn’t meant for us to succeed.
After the death of her parents, Kat acts out, and lands in the “Break the Cycle” program, offering benefits to struggling schools from the government when admitting troubled youth. She realizes her position as a pawn for cash immediately, but carries on. Her first day at Catholic school is decorated by legendary Poly Styrene of X-Ray Spex, chanting “I am a poseur and I don’t care. I like to make people stare” as the nuns in the hallway plug up their ears in judgment of the alternative. Styrene’s vocals mirror Kat, from her stubborn nature to her unapologetic vibrancy, and right back to her (almost) fragile confidence.
Black Punk Soundtrack Breakdown: Songs That Define Kat’s Journey
Even more than dressing a scene with a song that fits, Kat’s character development is literally narrated by the sounds of her boombox. Her boost of confidence navigating hell, earth, and the system is echoed by the lyrics of generational punk Black women. “Young, Gifted, Black, In Leather” by Special Interest is not only an affirmation, but a window into Kat’s understanding, and foreshadowing into the hellmaiden she was born to be. “Every night the law is on my back. That’s why we fight, ‘cause we are young, gifted, Black, in leather”. Tamar-kali’s “Boot,” and “Fall Asleep” by Big Joanie offer the same, while throwing an “I told you so” at the erasure in a genre Black folks had a large hand in creating back in the day.
If I were to break down every weighted needle drop in this 105 minute runtime, you’d need some eyedrops. The toughest track moment takes place during the confrontation between private prison company Klaxon Korp and the locals of Rust Bank, soundtracked by “Wolf Like Me” by TV on the Radio. Even if Rage Against The Machine is the only punk name you know, it’d be impossible to ignore the feeling of how integral Black punk is to the soul of this story. I don’t mean to get preachy on you, but besides the hell of it all, you might still be able to relate off-screen.
Black Punk Representation and Why It Still Matters
I would like to be able to say “many have tried, few have succeeded” to wrap this up, but the truth is, Black punk is fighting monolith status when it comes to representation. Shazam any of these songs- the low play count despite the community fame, and street cred that runs for decades is problematic. Punk is a tight community that relies heavily on the “iykyk”, leaving room for misconceptions on what it’s about, and the undeniable fact that Black punk is larger than you think. It’s not just an edgy sound you can brood in your dorm room over. It’s a vibrant, independent lifestyle filled with war cries of freedom of expression, power to the community, and sticking it to the man. Fuck the prison system. Wendell & Wild got it all correct.
Don’t miss a beat. Listen to Kat’s playlist, straight from the boombox.
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