While at home at my Dad’s house for Christmas, I had this brilliant idea to go into the attic and go through a box of old Barbies. It seemed like something cool for Gabriella to experience.
I opened the first box. With a scream that sent birds fleeing a five mile area of the house and neighbors rushing out to see who was being murdered in their quiet suburb, I made a horrific discovery. After realizing this obvious murderer was not going to kill me–just yet– I calmed down, slowed down my heart rate and reassured Gabriella that her mother’s life was (probably) not in danger. Slowly, I reached into the box and pulled out the most terrifying thing to greet me in 30+ years. I immediately shoved it into a bad to later confront my Dad and to protect my daughter from the horror I just experienced.
Okay, you want to know why I am a freak, a bit twisted and have irrational fears? It is because of the toys I was given to play with as a child. Toys. TOYS. Sure. If toys are meant to terrify you and try to kill you in your sleep. You think I am kidding? Tell me this is not based on a certain serial killing child named Chuckie.
Oh sure, to you it might be just a clown, but if you look closely you will see that he wants to kill you. He really does! And honest to goodness this clown freaks me out. It gives all new meaning to Bart’s phrase “Can’t sleep, clown will eat me.” But seeing as I live in a supportive and understanding home, my loving husband took care of it for me. Killer Clown boy found a new home.
That would be on top of Clint’s computer. Which is located just 2 computers over from mine. It has the wonderful effect of making me gasp (or if it is late at night and dark, scream) every time I walk into the office. Big Fun, people. Big. Fun.
But it wasn’t just the Killer Clown that I found. I found the most evil Barbie EVER. Ever. Period.
However, this is that point where I must note that I was not a “good Barbie owner” as a child. I much preferred G.I. Joe and his kung-fu grip and scratchy beard. Besides, he had the coolest accessories. I usually used GI Joe and his accessories to run over Barbie and her crew. I also learned that holding their hair on a light bulb would singe the beejeebus out of the Barbie. No, I don’t condone this. I am just confessing. Basically, I was not good to my Barbies. Their hair had no luster and shine. They had knots, tangles and that deranged look of a psycho killer escaped from the cult of Barbie terrorizers. (To protect her identity, you only get a back shot of this one.) Getting the picture? There was no such thing as a pristine Barbie in my world. This is what Barbie looked like in my world. Granted, this was one of those cool ones where if you twist her scalp 180 degrees you can change her hair color. (Holy crap no wonder I am warped with these toys!)
Which is why it was suspect when I found this particular Barbie:
Notice the perfect hair? Notice the way that only one tiny piece of hair has been released from it’s tight bun/knot? This Barbie is 30+ years old. It has been through moves and everything. And I remember her. Ohhhh how I remember her. So, why isn’t her hair looking like wild crazy scalp twisting Barbie’s? I will show you why.
Because she wants to KILL YOU! Take one look at that face and tell me she doesn’t. Wrong. She does. Which would probably explain the sheer terror I had about playing with her. Don’t mess with the killer granny. 30+ years and not a hair out of place. Tell me she isn’t scary. (Liar!) If that doesn’t do it, maybe the fact that she kidnapped white trash baby will do the trick.
So think twice the next time you: (a) Think all barbie dolls and clowns are safe and they won’t kill you (because they totally will.) Seriously. (B) The next time you wonder why I am a bit off beat, think about these toys I had to play with. You, too, would be a bit off center.
I’m just sayin’!
Are you haunted by toys of your past? Oh come on! I am not the only one. Am I?
[EDIT/Disclaimer] The dolls represented here are not the trademarked, everyone knows them “Barbies” that Mattel makes. But seriously, I have no idea what to call them other than evil. I am in no way saying that Barbie and her immediate family, grandparents and white trash baby are evil. Apparently, it is