Monday, October 17, 2011

♫...Torture only child's play...♫


Day 17 - Scariest Fictional Character

Part of me wants to delve into a serious discussion on how The Republic of Gilead is the scariest mofo-ing thing ever written...and what's even scarier about it is the fact that our country seems to be on the precipice of turning into the The Republic of Gilead....but I won't...because I've vowed to keep this whole '31 Days of Halloween' thing all light and fluffy.

Chucky scares the crap out of me. Yes, I'm talking about that homicidal doll from the Child's Play movies. Let me tell you a bit about why he scares the holy sweet mother freakin' Jesus out of me. Child's Play came out when I was 8 years old, and my mother and father refused to let me watch it (1 part because it was too scary for me and 1 part because they were in their holier-than-thou, hardcore, religious zealotry phase)...but my biological father let me watch it. Mistake. See, I had this doll named Cricket. She was a cute little blonde haired, blue eyed girl (more than half my size at the time)...and she talked. Her eyes moved from side to side and her mouth moved when you played a tape that you stuck in her back....basically a doll sized tape player. She was my absolute favoritest doll in the whole wide world...until I saw Child's Play. You see, Cricket and Chucky had some similarities. Their skin looked alike. Their mouths moved the same way. Their eyes sort of moved the same way. It creeped me the holy hell out.

Cricket via
To my eight-year-old mind, Cricket was going to come to life and murder me in my sleep. I became convinced that I saw her move when she thought I wasn't looking....and she was just biding her time until the moment was right to chop me up into little bits. Then it spiraled into the idea that she was also recruiting the rest of my dolls to join her in her evil plans. It finally got to the point where I didn't want to go to sleep at night because I was terrified of my dolls, and I would stay awake until I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. Finally, I came up with the idea of putting all my dolls in the big oak chest in my parents' room. My justification for this was that they were bigger and older and could lay the smack down on the unruly, bloodthirsty dolls if they decided to go ahead with their insurrection. Sleep came at last.

Eventually I allowed all my dolls back into my room...except for Cricket. 
The last time I saw her was when we moved for the last time (16 years ago next week). She was in the basement...and I never saw here again...

That's why Chucky freaks me out...and why dolls have a tendency to make me feel slightly on edge. The cruel thing is...until a couple of years ago, my mother would still give me a doll (porcelain) every Christmas.

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