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What kind of guy fills his home with gruesome simulated gore and gets a kick out of scaring kids?

A crazed loner, the proverbial guy who seems quiet and reclusive until he suddenly goes on a shooting rampage?

How about a genial store detective with a nurturing wife, a friendly Basset hound and five cats named after characters from Disney cartoons.

"A lot of people assume if you're into horror, you're a sick, deranged guy who eats the neighbors," said horror collector Don Hinrichs. "I haven't eaten any neighbors. I catch shoplifters for a living. I love animals. I choke up when I see a dead raccoon on the road."

Then why the carefully arranged display of slasher-movie action figures, creepy mannequins and other grotesque figures that currently decorates his bedroom?

"Everybody says it's because I'm normally such a nice guy; maybe it's the dark side of me," he said. "I just enjoy a good scare, the battle between good and evil ... and every once in a while, evil winning."

Her husband's horror fetish leads people to make dark assumptions about both of them, according to his wife, Jessi. "They're surprised at how traditional and family-oriented we are. I like to go to church on Sunday morning. I knit and cross-stitch. I bake bread. I'm Martha Stewart."

Except for tonight, when she'll be a blood-drenched "Carrie" or maybe a "zombie prom queen," as part of the couple's Halloween-night fright fest for trick-or-treaters. Her husband will don a mask and tattered butcher's apron and rev a chainsaw against a backdrop of homemade gravestones and life-size ghoulish figures of his favorite horror-movie villains.

"I just love Halloween," Don said. "Let's be evil for one night." (He does skip the chainsaw when greeting the littlest trick-or-treaters.) "I won't torment 3- and 4-year-olds," he said.

"I reassure the kids who are scared," Jessi added.

Lawn of the dead

Some of the couple's Halloween visitors seek out their annual yard display (this year at 6408 Lakeland Av. N., Brooklyn Park) because they enjoy getting spooked. Others just hear the screams and come to see what's going on. But one person who probably won't stop by is Don's mother.

"Not unless I have to," Jan Hinrichs said. "I'm just not into that. I'm into Christmas. We've got some of his stuff in the basement, and I don't like to go there. It's kind of scary."

His parents frowned on horror movies when he was a child, Don said, which may have sparked his interest. As an adolescent, he remembers being "traumatized" by "Child's Play," the 1988 movie that introduced audiences to a murderous doll named Chucky. But by his late teens, Don had developed a taste for terror.

Now Chucky is one of his favorite characters, and a movie-accurate replica, which costs about $4,000, tops his list of "things I want but can't afford."

He does have other Chuckys, both life-sized and in miniature; they're the main reason he and Jessi once moved from a one-bedroom to a two-bedroom place, so he'd have a separate room for displaying his collection.

"I can't handle Chucky at 2 a.m.," Jessi said. "I'd get up in the night and see him." (They're now living temporarily with a relative and part of the collection is back in their bedroom, although the bulk of it is in storage.)

Don started his memorabilia collection, which now numbers about 500 pieces, in 1996 when horror-movie action figures first began appearing on the market.