Now this is a story all about how my life got flipped turned upside down and I’d like to take a minute, just sit right there, I’ll tell you how I…. pissed the bed and began to swear.
You see, it was Halloween last Saturday. All was well. There was pumpkin carving, dressing up, and trick or treating. Then, I received something on my phone. A message from my brother with a photo attached. I dropped my phone. It was a photo dredging up a past I had long buried deep down.
The year was 1991. I think. It was early 90s for sure. Which would have made me about 5 or 6 maybe? My dad had just started to fork out for Sky TV. Maybe it was a free trial? Back then Sky TV was probably only £1.50 and a pack of tissues per month.
Sky TV was my introduction to the Simpsons. What a glorious time to have been alive. The golden age of Simpsons. But it opened the door to many different programmes. And movies.
My brother is 6 years older than me. I also have a sister 3 years older than me. Making me the baby of the family. As a close-to-teenager, let’s just say my brother’s taste in movies was very different to mine at that time.
One Saturday night, he talked me into watching a movie with him. It was about a little doll that wanted to find his way back home. The sort of movie that would appeal to the 5-year-old me. It was on quite late, but this was the 90s man. There weren’t all these parenting routines you have today. My dad was already asleep. Being a market trader meant he had to wake up pretty early. A real hero.
So there I sat with my brother and sister, to watch this cute, whimsical tale of a doll wanting to find his way back home. This movie was a sequel. At that age you don’t really care about having full context of what happened in part one.
There were men with clipboards in some sort of sterile-looking place. A factory? A hospital? I don’t know. The camera panned through corridors. At least, that’s how I remember it. It probably wasn’t like that whatsoever.
I admit, it was a very strange setting for a children’s movie. But a children’s movie it was. I mean, come on, the title was Child’s Play 2. It literally had the word CHILD in the title. What more reassurance did I need?
Then there was a close up shot of something. As the camera zoomed out, it turned out to be an eye. The camera zoomed out more, it turned out to be the fucking scary burnt face of a doll!!!
I ran out of the room, straight into my dad’s bed and hugged him tight telling him how the movie downstairs was scary. Maybe I was hoping for him to give my brother a clip round the ear or something? It never happened. My brother was always the favourite!
Turns out my brother had recorded the movie on a VHS tape. Ask your parents, kids. But not just any standard black VHS tape. This was recorded on a sky blue VHS tape. This was unheard of.
Anyway, you’d think I’d have learnt my lesson.
But my brother convinced me to give the film another go. This time during the day. Reassuring me it was a nice movie. Fool me once shame on who? Fool me twice and I think there’s a case to be made to check all is well in my head. I rejected the opportunity to watch the movie at first. Then the neighbour’s kid started to chime in how she watched it and was fine. She was a year or so older than me. The neighbour herself said her 1-year-old watched it and was fine with it. This was an adult telling me this!
And then we wonder why this generation is so messed up! I was practically gaslit by an entire neighbourhood into watching a horror film.
I gave in and watched it. I powered through it. I hated it. But it was over now. So I thought. I went to sleep at night and the next thing I saw was…
Chucky attacking me.
I woke up crying, having wet the bed. And then it happened again the next day. And the day after. And the day after that. Then I figured out the devil’s sky blue VHS tape was IN the bedroom my brother and I shared. I screamed for it to be removed.
Needless to say, I was now scared of the dark. The staircase up to the bathroom at night turned into a fear too. I decided I needed to be one step ahead of Chucky. We had a shower curtain in the bathroom which scared me. Chucky may be behind there. If I was taking a piss, I was worried he would jump out and pounce on me. My solution? Easy. I would piss on him. That’s right. I would piss on him.
At some point I may have to talk to my therapist about how often I talk about pissing on this blog.
So, back to present day. I cannot deal with dolls. Which makes for interesting conversations with the OddKids when they want to play with their creepy dolls that talk. And if I see a picture of Chucky without expecting it – I jump.
And that’s what happened on that fateful Halloween night. My brother, ever the role model, sent me a photo of Chucky attacking me with a bloody knife. Thanks ChatGPT for giving him more ammo.
Next year I’m fighting back. I’m going to dress one of the OddKids in a Chucky outfit, and slip them through the window of my brother’s house in the middle of the night.
Yep – just one completely healthy and normal family here.
