My fears are kind of backwards.
Like, this doesn’t scare me:
Neither does this:
Or this:
But here are some things that do…
I won’t repeat my story. Go read it if you forget it.
THE CYMBAL MONKEY
I think mostly because I’m scared of monkeys in general. And I think I’m mostly scared of monkeys in general because they’re so much like people, but not. I feel like they are people, but they’re trapped in these weird bodies, and I feel like they must resent us for that. I mean, I know I would.
So basically, I think that monkeys must hate people and they probably want to kill us and take over the world. Sort of like Planet of the Apes. Only that movie doesn’t scare me, and monkeys do.
I’m so complicated…
THE FURBY
First of all, it talks, which is not okay with me.
Secondly, those eyes.
Thirdly, what the fuck is that thing on its forehead?
Fourthly, you know that shit’s coming to life when it’s dark. And you know it’s somehow gonna learn how to like, poison the glass of water you keep on your night table while you’re sleeping or something.
Here’s the thing: I had a really bad experience with a talking Barney the Dinosaur doll once. I’ll tell you about it soon. Maybe tomorrow. Regardless, ever since that, talking toys in general…
Oh, and also:
BARNEY THE DINOSAUR
NOPE.
DON’T WANNA BE YOUR FRIEND.
DON’T LIKE YOUR VOICE.
I THINK YOU’RE A PEDOPHILE.
I’m calm. I am calm!
…
E.T.
I AM NO LONGER CALM.
Guys, I am so scared of E.T. that I cried a little bit while I was writing this post.
Yes, I’m serious.
Having that photo on my blog freaks me the hell out. Doing a Google image search for E.T. was traumatic, and I’m CERTAIN I am going to have an E.T. nightmare tonight.
I honestly don’t get how kids and people (because – Freudian slip – kids are not people, apparently) love E.T. like he’s some friendly, cute creature. Just look at him! He’s DISGUSTING.
Let me tell you something. I saw E.T. once – ONE TIME – when I was five or six years old, and I was never the same again. From that point onward, I have had recurring E.T. nightmares.
What could cute, sweet little E.T. be doing that is so scary, you ask?
He’s usually strangling me with his gross long fingers and laughing in his gross, weird voice. And while he’s strangling me, I’m trying to punch him away. I punch his stupid face, but he’s made of rubber and my fists just keep bouncing off his head. Nothing hurts him and his grip just keeps tightening until I’m dead.
Pleasant, right?
Childhood is scary, y’all. It’s a surprise any of us make it this far even a little bit normal.
xA
P.S. Agree? Disagree? Be my therapy group, guys. I think it’s obvious by now that I need it.
P.P.S. If you like E.T., I NEED TO KNOW WHY.
