So... Being an older brother of two sisters, aside from babysitting, one of my main tasks in life was tormenting. Well, let's not say 'tormenting'; instead, we shall call it 'firmly establishing fear within younger siblings when the parental units were not present'.
We would often play games, like school which one of my younger sisters would pretend to be the teacher figure, the other would play the role as a smart student and I would often be the new kid at school. Of course, my role was never that easy. Seriously, that's too easy. With my performance abilities and imagination, the role required something of Oscar quality. Therefore, my new student character would always have some mysterious background, initially appearing soft-spoken and pleasant until some small incident, like a broken pencil for instance, would push him mentally over the edge thus spiraling into a world of psychotic melodrama. Minutes later, my sisters would usually run into the bathroom, locking the door behind them, with the "new student" chasing behind a la Jack Nicholson in "The Shining". Yes, often frantically wielding an ax, knife or any other object seen in your everyday slasher-type movie. Needless to say, growing up with me was quite an adventure - but, really, would you expect anything less? I think not.
Weeks ago, my youngest sister, Tonya, came to visit. I had some idea, but up until this visit, I suppose, I never truly understood the haunting, lingering effects my actions left upon my siblings. In addition to the "New Kid in School" game, we played with another childhood fun toy: A ventriloquist doll I simply named Johnny. I cannot remember exactly why our mother brought this little doll home. Once he and I met, however, it became quite clear the two of us would have years and years of scary fun ahead. Mom picked up the doll at a garage sale one Saturday morning. He is the typical Charlie McCarthy ventriloquist doll, except, as the case with most items found at a garage sale, a bit "used" and in need of help. His clothes were damaged, probably not the authentic pieces; many of the original accessories were long gone; and, very eerily, he had a blackened, smoke damaged face, which made his follow-you-everywhere eyes highly unpleasing and terrifying to my sisters. Even more after the incident.
Perhaps it was the fire damage, or an after school special, which prompted this, but my sisters and cousin Marcia decided our ventriloquist doll had a smoking problem. Since playing make believe games with me led to crying, screaming and basically running for their lives, poor Johnny became the male character in their one act performances. In one particular game, Johnny was a kid who had a smoking problem. Honestly, I do not recall all the events, only the ending which forever changed the lives of Tonya, Stephanie and Marcia, so let's fast forward to the good part:
Due to Johnny's desire to smoke, he died. Not my idea, believe me; this was all the imagination of my sisters. To honor his life, they set up a funeral. Yes, they actually chose to play "Funeral". A very morbid game for little girls, but, hey, what else did they have going on in Big Spring. Looking back, due to the macabre nature of the game, I have no regrets. Honestly, they asked for it. While they changed into their funeral clothes and readied themselves for their little fun "Funeral" game, I sneaked onto the "set" and, let's say, enhanced the entertainment element of their little game.
Huddled in a sobering trio of tissues and flowers, the three of them slowed entered the funeral to say their last respects to Johnny, who again died of smoking. Together, they stood next to Johnny's coffin holding one another pretending to cry while recounting fond moments and memories. All reminiscing came to an abrupt end when their eyes popped out of their sockets upon suddenly noticing a paper cigarette in Johnny's mouth in the coffin. And then, it happened - the incident. Hiding behind furniture mere feet away, I had tied kite string to Johnny, underneath his clothing. With one tug, I instantly set in motion years of post traumatic stress, anguish and distress. The single tug of the kite string, attached to dead Johnny with his burnt face while holding a cigarette in his mouth made him spring to life, rolling out of his coffin towards my sisters who immediately (a) wet their panties before (b) sprinting into the bathroom locking the door behind their nightmarish cries. Since that day of the horrific resurrection, my sisters will not have anything to do with poor Johnny.
Over the years, Johnny has become a great friend. Obviously, when I left for college, Johnny was ordered to leave the house. Together, Johnny and I went through life, experiencing our own adventures, and meeting new people. Johnny even played a key role in a short horror film I submitted into a film competition years ago. Now, I cannot say life has been roses for Johnny. Unfortunately, there are still people who fear him as do my sisters. My dear friend who watches our house, Amber, for instance, once spotted Johnny in a closet, and later admitted frequently checking the area to make sure Johnny is still in his spot throughout her visit; my good friend, Mike, who quite frankly is a wuss, has called Johnny 'creepy' and 'eery' on several unnecessary occasions; and now my daughter, Harper, after seeing the reaction of her aunt Tonya this week will not go near Johnny. Sad. Sad.
We live in a world with people are different. In fact the differences are what make each and every one of us special and unique in our own way. I wish some people would set aside their ignorance, look into his follow-you-everywhere eyes and realize Johnny is special.
Johnny, I love you. Let's make this the best Halloween ever.
REDRUM.
