Child’s Play - traumatizing my life since the 3^rd grade. 

It was a sunny fall day, when my younger self was having a boring day after being picked up from elementary school by my dad.  I was at his work waiting for him to go home.  So bored was I that I started crushing small ant-like insects for fun.  This is where my alias as the Kind of Ants first began. 

Well, as I sat bored, my father recommended that I go rent a video from the neighborhood video-plex next door.  Renting videos was the highlight of my life during those days, so I was pretty excited to do so.  I ran over and picked out a tape of one of my favorite cartoons, Tom and Jerry.   I never understood why humans in the world of Tom and Jerry were depicted as headless giants.  Creepy. 

I popped the tape into the VCR of my father’s workspace, hit play, and prepared myself for a half hour of hilarity.  When the video started, Tom and Jerry were no where to be found.  I was young and stupid, so I thought it was just a preview for something, so I kept watching.  What followed was an hour and a half of the most horrible sequences a child could ever view at such an early age.  No, it was not Tom and Jerry.  It was much, much worse.

What came onto the screen was in fact, Child’s Play.  If you don’t know the movie, let me give you the one paragraph summary:

Crazy murderer guy gets shot by cop.  Murderer guy hides in toy store.  Murderer guy uses voodoo hi-jinks to transports his quickly fading soul into a “Good Guy” Doll.  Little stupid boy gets doll as gift.  Doll begins to come alive, and kills everything.  No one is aware.  Boy figures it out.  Doll wants to get inside boy’s body.  Doll dies. The end.

Scary huh?  What I saw was my worst fears come to life. Literally.  Never had I thought that one of my toys could possibly come to life, seeking murderous revenge upon all those who stood in its way.  The though had never crossed my mind.  I was young you see.  Nothing bad happens to you when you’re young.   This movie had a doll that killed people.  A doll with red hair and overalls.   Could this be why I have a fear of redheaded hillbillies in overalls?   Possibly.  

The doll was named Chucky.  I do not like him.  Even now, just writing about it, and the thought of putting up his image chills my spine, freezes my blood, and sterilizes my genitals.   Chucky was my nightmare.  I had good reason to be scared of him.  Not because I had just seen him, a 2 foot tall toy, kill people, talk without batteries, and speak in a Brooklyn accent.  It was because my younger sister had a room filled with them.  Not Chucky dolls.  Just dolls in general.  Lots of them.  All waiting to cut out my tongue. 

Chucky was the worst of the worst.  Forget the Freddy’s, the Jason’s, the Micheal Myers, and all those other so called masters of fright.  They were cute bunnies compared to Chucky.   He was just as un-killable as them, and twice as small.  He used his patented knife to kill, as well as a gun, and sometimes even voodoo.  Like on that black guy.   Man I felt bad for him. 

So, for some reason I watched the entire movie, believing that it was just a huge preview.  Let me remind you that I was an idiot when I was young.  The movie ended, and I just sat there, wondering what I had done to deserve such a horrible vision of my future.  I tried to forget about it.  But it haunted my dreams, keeping me awake at night, staring at my sister’s Barbie dolls.  Did they just wink at me?  No, they can’t… right?

There was a point when I had forgotten about him.  There was happiness in my life once again.  I spoke too soon.  Child’s Play 2 emerged, and if that wasn’t bad enough, part 3 came out right after.  These two films re-affirmed my fears, and with the addition of countless tortures by an older cousin, my life became a living hell.  I would wake up and there’d be a doll on my chest.   I’d open the toilet and there’d be a doll looking up at me.  Then there was the scream incident.  You see, by this time, they started making those talking dolls (brrrrrrr…)  and my little sister had to own one.  As it got older and the batteries started to die out, it would talk by itself.  I walked by my parent’s room, and the doll was sitting at the end of the bed.  My sister walked in to get it, but before she could touch it the doll started screaming.  Loud, fire alarm screaming.  I ran.  I ran as fast as I could looking for the only person who could stop this menace.  Mommy.  “MOM THE DOLL’S GONE CRAZY AN IT ATE KIM AND IT’S GONNA GET ME HELP ME MOM PLEASE!!!  AUGH!!!”   I’m sure that’s exactly what I said.  Fear brought out the most descriptive side of my personality.   Well, mom came and turned the doll off, but even with it locked in the closet, I couldn’t sleep that night.  Or any night after that.   DAMN YOU CHUCKY, DAMN YOU!!

I can’t talk about him anymore.  This was the best way that I could open up the upcoming Halloween season, and it was a painful one. Hopefully you will enjoy it, because I did not.  I just had to get past my inner fears.  It’s so cold in here.  Oh Chucky.  How I loath thee.

- Kevin