How to survive scary naked dolls coming to life and trying to kill you
When I was a young lad, a couple of my older brothers, lets call them Al and Chris, made a nice little sadistic hobby out of trying to scare me. This was the era of The Exorcist, The Amityville Horror and The Omen, three of my favs. Even catching a glimpse of any of them on TV would send me into cardiac arrest. So as you all can imagine, the Two Brothers Grimm would invent elaborate scare-fests for me.
|The walking doll, kind of|
I grew up in that delusional Christian mode of thinking, i.e., Satan is real and you'll burn in Hell for doing bad things. Keeping this in mind, any movie or story that had some sort of demonic being as the central antagonist, scared the living shit out of me.
One of the more heinous tricks played on me involved a certain doll of my sister's. This doll was one of those walking-types, if you held its hands, it would walk with you. It stood about three feet in height. My sister, let's call her Jen, had long since abandoned the doll and it was relegated to living a life of solitude in the junk closet. Or so we thought. Al had plans for the walking doll. He was the evil leader of the brothers. Think of him as Moe from The Three Stooges, only he graduated from a Gestapo-run grade school. By this time the doll had lost her clothes and her long curly blonde hair was knotted.
If I was scared at night, which was every night, I would sleep with all of the covers over my head and I had the blankets tucked into the mattress tight so nothing could get in. This scene was repeated even on hot summer nights. I would wake up sweating to death. Even though The Old Man installed central air for a living, he made all of us suffer by never putting it in our house. So basically, the upstairs was sweltering.
So one brutal summer night, and I'm sure Rosemary's Baby or The Shining was on TV that day, Al and Chris struck. There I lay, covered and sweating, when I awoke to something lying in the bed next to me. I yanked the blankets down and there she was staring at me; her naked vinyl body and mussed hair shimmering by the orange light of my alarm clock. Al had shoved the walking doll under the covers while I was sleeping! Now I remember screaming and I think I blacked out because I don't recall much after that.
The next day I threw the walking doll out into the garbage, hoping to never lay eyes on her again. That would have been nice. But that wasn't the doll's final act. I would say that it was a few days later and things were great. Nothing scary on TV, no one hiding in the closet and jumping out, and no friggin' dolls. In the afternoon I went to the backyard to get my bike out. No biggie right? Well, when I opened the door to the patio, the walking doll swung down from the ceiling on a rope and grabbed me. As I ran away yelling, I heard Al and Chris laughing in the distance.
That was my childhood in a nutshell. Terrorized and sweaty.
--As a supplement, Al has informed me, I'm sure my mind blocked this out, that he also hung the walking doll on the bed slats from the bunk bed above me. The walking doll also received lighted eyes and was positioned in the junk closet like a scene from The Amityville Horror. Thanks Al! You are a class act.