Trixieland

Let me set the scene for you: It’s 1978 and I am a small child. Hush to those of you who were just a gleam in your mommy’s eye back then. In 1978 there was a movie out called "Magic." It was about an evil ventriloquist’s dummy. The TV commercial for "Magic" featured said evil dummy speaking into the camera in an extreme close-up, and I think there was some creepy music. This commercial scared the living bejeebus out of young TriXie. When the commercial came on, I was too afraid to get close enough to the TV to change the channel or turn it off (no remote, people!). Instead I would run into the bathroom, lock the door, turn on the water, cover my ears and hum "The Star Spangled Banner" as loud as I could.

 

This trauma incited a lifelong phobia of ventriloquist’s dummies, puppets and many dolls.

 

Fast forward to 2007. I make the mistake of confessing said fear of "Magic" to KP. A week later "Magic" becomes available on Video Marketplace and much mocking of TriXie ensues. In fact the VMP dudes say they put it up on Marketplace just for me.

 

It gets worse. KP starts asking me if I’ve checked my mail. I’m suspicious, but I pick up a package from Amazon, pull the cardboard tag and put my hand in the package: I feel a DVD case and say "OH NO". Yes, that little bastahd sent me a copy of "Magic."

 

Of course I refuse to watch it–it’s still in the shrink wrap. But the terror continues as my rotten son (who is basically a clone of KP in evil intelligence and demeanor) keeps putting that frickin’ movie in unexpected places. I open the fridge for a Diet Coke–there’s that goddman dummy staring out at me from next to the Philly cream cheese! I’m settling down in bed for a nice read, and damnit that horrible wooden face is glaring at me from under the comforter. It makes me shriek everytime, which of course continues the assaults.

 

If those two little poops ever actually coordinate their attacks, I am DOOMED.