Mr. Marbles?
Preston will be turning one in about two months and already my mother has been purchasing his party favors since his birth. In July she bought him his first party hat complete with adorable pom-poms. I'm sure she already has the utensils and paper plates with The Wiggles on them. I don't mind all the fun stuff: candles, decorations, cake. But what I do mind is the thing mom brought home from a quaint little shop in Cold Spring Harbor.
I'm called into the kitchen one morning to see the new addition to Preston's future celebration. It's perched on the counter and I take one look at it and it takes one look at me and I freeze in the doorway. Mom smiles ear to ear and exclaims, "It's a birthday bear!" and my first thought is to throw a garbage bag over its head and beat it to death with a baseball bat. They think it's cute. I think it's a left over prop from a horror film. She presses its hand and it begins to sing to me in a voice that must be recorded by the little girls playing jump rope on Elm Street. As it sings, it bobs its head back and forth, taunting me. Everyone in the room seems to love this thing. I am backed up into the wall, trying to get as far away from it as possible, and they press the button again. The second it finishes I dash back up to my room telling them to keep it away from me.
Later that week I get back to the house after one of my ridiculously long home programs only to find my parents already upstairs in bed. They like to leave a kitchen light on because they know I'm afraid of the dark. Unfortunately, I need to go in and shut the light off only to be stranded in the kitchen with no light groping my way back to the hallway to get to the stairs. They mean well; that’s why I love them. So I go in to click it off and as I do something white flashes in the corner of my eye. I whip around real fast and my heart leaps into my throat. Birthday Bear has now found its way into the dining room. It's just sitting there, long legs dangling over the edge of the table, smilingly at me. Smiling in a way that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Smiling in that serial killer type of way. I narrow my eyes and fight back the urge to dump it in the trash. I'd feel bad since Birthday Bear doesn't belong to me, so I scrap the idea, hit the lights, run like hell up to my room, and lock the door behind me.
Birthday bear looks exactly like the clown in the little boy's bedroom in Poltergeist. I am convinced that it is going to stretch its long arms out from under my bed when I'm just drifting off to sleep and pull me under. Yes I know that's unrealistic since it would have to move all my tee shirts out of the way before hiding under there but still, it might attack me this way.
So now Birthday Bear has finally found its home until the party. It currently resides on the top shelf of my sister's room, overlooking everything. Whenever I enter the room it's the first thing I see and its smile curls into something evil and it mouths, "Die!" when we lock eyes. If it doesn't try the sneak attack approach, it's just going to lunge at me one night when no one is looking.
I swear, Birthday Bear is going to kill me.
I'm called into the kitchen one morning to see the new addition to Preston's future celebration. It's perched on the counter and I take one look at it and it takes one look at me and I freeze in the doorway. Mom smiles ear to ear and exclaims, "It's a birthday bear!" and my first thought is to throw a garbage bag over its head and beat it to death with a baseball bat. They think it's cute. I think it's a left over prop from a horror film. She presses its hand and it begins to sing to me in a voice that must be recorded by the little girls playing jump rope on Elm Street. As it sings, it bobs its head back and forth, taunting me. Everyone in the room seems to love this thing. I am backed up into the wall, trying to get as far away from it as possible, and they press the button again. The second it finishes I dash back up to my room telling them to keep it away from me.
Later that week I get back to the house after one of my ridiculously long home programs only to find my parents already upstairs in bed. They like to leave a kitchen light on because they know I'm afraid of the dark. Unfortunately, I need to go in and shut the light off only to be stranded in the kitchen with no light groping my way back to the hallway to get to the stairs. They mean well; that’s why I love them. So I go in to click it off and as I do something white flashes in the corner of my eye. I whip around real fast and my heart leaps into my throat. Birthday Bear has now found its way into the dining room. It's just sitting there, long legs dangling over the edge of the table, smilingly at me. Smiling in a way that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Smiling in that serial killer type of way. I narrow my eyes and fight back the urge to dump it in the trash. I'd feel bad since Birthday Bear doesn't belong to me, so I scrap the idea, hit the lights, run like hell up to my room, and lock the door behind me.
Birthday bear looks exactly like the clown in the little boy's bedroom in Poltergeist. I am convinced that it is going to stretch its long arms out from under my bed when I'm just drifting off to sleep and pull me under. Yes I know that's unrealistic since it would have to move all my tee shirts out of the way before hiding under there but still, it might attack me this way.
So now Birthday Bear has finally found its home until the party. It currently resides on the top shelf of my sister's room, overlooking everything. Whenever I enter the room it's the first thing I see and its smile curls into something evil and it mouths, "Die!" when we lock eyes. If it doesn't try the sneak attack approach, it's just going to lunge at me one night when no one is looking.
I swear, Birthday Bear is going to kill me.