What an excellent day for an exorcism. I'm standing beside a black-sheeted window on the sixth floor of a converted loft somewhere in Philadelphia. I wish I could tell you where — the view is amazing — but there's some devilish shit going down behind me, the least offensive of which involves a bucketful of neon-green slime, a Baby Jesus butt plug and a coke-snorting priest.

You see, I'm on the set of The XXXorcist, a pornographic remake of William Peter Blatty's 1973 horror classic. The twist? After lesser methods of exorcism fail, our well-endowed priest is left no choice but to perform a "sexorcism" and screw the literal hell out of possessed heroine Regan.

Masterminded by Brooklyn-based porn site BurningAngel.com and Philly's I Am An Evil Carrot production company, this horror spoof is their second in a series of Halloween-themed pornos being filmed locally, screened regionally and distributed on the Web.

Producer Nick Danger promises "good vibes" long before I arrive, but he's not talking the battery-operated kind. Some two dozen people mill about the set. A coffee table is strewn with lollipops, tubes of petroleum jelly and a 3/4-empty bottle of Crown Russe vodka. Stills from the original Exorcist glow on computer screens in the control room. Tattooed chicks wobble atop six-inch platforms and shaggy-bearded guys wear rolls of electrical tape like bracelets. Director Doug Sakmann is ironing out a few kinks with the actors, and the blocking goes something like this: "So I cum, you cum, he fucks me in the ass and she walks in all surprised-like?"

Let us Spray: The XXXorcist's mechanical, spinning, vomitting Regan double. Photo By: Michael Koehlera

A special effects artist and BurningAngel intern smear leading lady Joanna Angel in pea-green body paint in a converted makeup area. "Did you do your enema yet, Joanna?" asks Sakmann from across the room. "Yep, did it this morning," she answers in between bites of a bagel with cream cheese.

Angel, 24, the founder and co-owner of BurningAngel, is diminutive, and though the revised script says her character recently turned 18, she could pass for younger. Her face is gashed with fake wounds and she's wearing greenish-yellow bloodshot contacts. Angel's been studying her part for a week now. "I feel like I really understand [Regan]," she giggles, admiring her naked, zombiefied self in the mirror.

A man dressed in a black tunic and clerical collar claps his hands and sings out, "I can't wait to have sex!" Meet Tommy Pistol, our leading man. A trained Muay Thai boxer and stunt school graduate, he tells me it's his goal to be the Steve Martin or Johnny Knoxville of porn.

"Quiet on the set!" bellows Sakmann, gearing up to film the gory special effects scene. A gelatin lifecast of Angel's character, rigged to spew vomit on cue, is plopped on the edge of the padded bed. A crew member starts the fog machine.

"Action… vomit… head spin… rolling!"

The dummy head rotates slowly but can't gain enough momentum to project the vomit as far as Sakmann wants. Instead, it just splutters and pukes on itself. Sakmann yells cut and techies tend to the faulty compressor. When they finally nail the pressure issue, the head spins violently, spewing vomit in every direction like a ramped-up lawn sprinkler. Cheering erupts in the control room and the set looks like something off Nickelodeon's You Can't Do That on Television. Slime drips off the lamp shades and drenches a stuffed Hello Kitty doll. Even Sakmann's hands are stained green.

The straight dialogue is up next. The otherwise uninhibited actors seem almost embarrassed to film nonsex scenes. Sakmann yes-yeses Kylee Cross (Regan's mother) when she asks if her scene was OK, but then nudges her to look a tad more desperate in demanding the priest's divine intervention.

After what feels like a hundred takes, everyone breaks for dinner. Cross performs fellatio on a slice of mushroom pizza and the crew ponders the question, "Do adult movie theaters sell popcorn?" Finally, Pistol is instructed to get his "pistol ready."

When he emerges from the bathroom, naked and hard, I notice a crucifix tattooed on his chest. Turns out Pistol was raised Catholic and attended a parochial school. I ask him if he had any reservations going into this. "I was feeling a little guilty yesterday," he admits wryly. "But then somebody said, 'Dude, you're saving her soul. You're doing good.' I was like, 'Yeah. I'll accept that.'"

Cross prepares for her threesome by hiking up her skirt for a swipe with a Wet One. "I'm gonna be cleaning green shit outta my pussy for a week," she moans, licking her fingers and reporting a chalky vanilla flavor. (As it happens, there's a half-gallon of vanilla ice cream melted into the vomit to make it palatable.) Angel, twirling like a ballerina across the set, announces that she's cleaned all her "holes." Two crew members give her the thumbs up and the hardcore banging commences. Her body jiggles beneath Pistol and the slappy-wet popping sounds cause a riot of laughter amongst the voyeurs. "I feel like I need to see an actual priest after this," hisses one cameraman, head shaking.

In the next scene, Sakmann's rigged the hose for a female ejaculation shot. Slime shoots outs of Angel's vagina like a geyser, but the pressure is turned so high, it nearly blows off the tip of Pistol's penis. He howls in pain as he is flung against the wall in a swell of green goo.

With some scenes being shot six, seven and eight times, the constant stop/start filming makes The XXXorcist seem like tedious foreplay.

"There's a bobby pin on her boob" — cut!

"Light bulb out center stage" — cut!

"Got it… got it… perfect…" Someone's cell phone rings. "God damn it!" roars Sakmann. "Jack, stop the smoke!"

Where most low-budget pornos are shot one-take-and-you're-done in some squalid motel, this two-day intensive taping borders on extravagant. What's more typical is the editing bum rush. Sakmann will turn the 40-minute movie around in less than a week — just in time to screen at the Rock 'n' Roll Horror Porno From the Depths of Hell fest on Oct. 29 at the Lower East Side's Pioneer Theater.

Danger and Sakmann expect a crying-sacrilege backlash. They've mucked through this once already with 2004's Re-Penetrator, an X-rated parody of H.P. Lovecraft's Re-Animator. Less than 24 hours after Re-Penetrator posted, BurningAngel received word from its billing company that the film had to be taken down; failure to do so would result in removal of the entire Web site. BurningAngel finally settled on a Netherlands-based server. Sakmann, a onetime altar boy, says a steady diet of slasher films and a three-year stint at Troma Entertainment has completely desensitized him. "I don't see a problem with someone spewing vomit out of her pussy. Everyone else is screaming; I'm like, 'What's the big deal?'"