Toyinfestation

1 - Introducing Creepface and Others

28 years later, 2011

Hi there.

If you are afraid of walking or talking dolls, I suggest you don't read on, out of the self-less and sincere care in my heart. Make yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, watch cartoons in peace. Play with your soft toys. Take a walk. Thank the stars they don't actually talk  back to you; it could get quite annoying. In a nightmarish way.

When the Barbie doll I had taken apart (My sister's, not mine) came back to try and take me apart;  I definitely found it nightmarish. I was six then, seeing a headless Barbie doll tug at my arms in the middle of a stormy night left me scarred for life.

It got better when no one believed one very frustrated six year old about the headless Barbie doll. All I got was an earful about how bad a brother I was and the next day I didn't get a piece of fudge for breakfast.  Because I was such a bad boy, making excuses to cover up after myself. My sister never seemed to forget about her lame Barbie doll, she has been whining about it for about ten years now.

But I know. And they won't let me go.

****

I have always dreaded Uncle Ben and Aunt Claire's visits. Not that they were particularly embarrassing. It's because they always, always bought toys for me. It didn't matter to them that I was too old for Ben Ten action figures or Lego bricks. I'd probably graduate from college and they'd come congratulating me with a life sized Mr Snuggles the Teddy Bear.

"Anthony, dear, go on, open it." Aunt Claire edged closer, nudging a small box towards me. I took an involuntary step back.  "Anthony? Come on."

Smiling, and taking a few steps back, I shook my head, "I need to go cut the cake; I'll open it later, okay?"

It's my sixteenth birthday today.

Aunt Claire looked like she wanted to egg me on but Uncle Ben intervened. He turned toward me while guiding away Aunt Claire and winked. "Anthony, you'll really like this one. She's got a great personality."

Great. Just great. Another toy to add to my collection of crack-heads upstairs.

Uncle Ben was the owner of a well-established Toy Factory. He used to be a really poor, lone toy-maker once and then he met Richard Dawson, a guy who was as crazy about toys as him and together they started the Almost Alive Toy-makers. Humble beginnings my mother likes to call it, a lot actually. Come to think of it, it's quite annoying. I wish she'd shut up.

Mr Dawson is not one my favourite people - for all the following reasons;

 (1) He's seriously creepy. His favourite pastime is probably sitting around staring at people and scaring the living daylights out of them.

(2) He has a million scars that he shows off sometimes while smiling in a sinister manner.

(3) He randomly threatens to beat people up with his walking stick. Which is also embarrassing. Then, you have to pretend that you don't know the guy sitting across from you at the local restaurant while the entire public population in the vicinity stares.

(4) He has attempted to hit on my sister on numerous occasions. He may have gotten punched black-and-blue on these occasions.

And most of all because;

(5) He calls me a girl      

Speak of the devil, Mr Creep face's here.

"Anthony, happy birthday .You're on your way to becoming a man eh, my pretty little girl?"

"Thank you " I smile, you old hag.

 "My dear, stop being such a girl, when I call you a girl you're supposed to punch me in the face, aye?"

I opened my mouth. Why? Which asylum are you missing from ?  A few more scars can't possibly help your face.

But before I could reply, Creep-face started laughing like an cross between an ass and a hyena  so I gave him a cupcake with blue frosting from the side table and left.