Ever have one of those "I think we built our house on an Indian burial ground" moments?
Yeah, well I blame that confounded doll Eric brought into the house last night.
And I'm not talking "Prom date." Though, in dating terms, this doll really was a cheap date, setting Eric back a quarter or two at most.
Even Eric realized his mistake, shortly after the awkward introductions.
She was, after all, downright creepy looking, with that pinched pink face peeking out of the pillowed frame that imprisoned her. Not a one of us could imagine resting our heads on such a pillow without suffering some kind of eternal damnation. And, as if that were not bad enough, he'd left behind her twin, up and abandoned her on some table at St. Teresa's Thrift Shop just around the corner from us.
Has anyone ever known a set of twins--evil ones, nonetheless--who willingly parted ways?
An hour later, when I stopped into Eric's room to say goodnight, I scanned the perimeters, making sure it was safe to enter. Fortunately, she was nowhere in sight.
There are just some things you don't want fresh in your mind when sleep is on the horizon. Eric understood this, having already stuffed the baby pillow from Hell into an unused overnight bag at the back of his closet. I found his act to be only mildly reassuring.
Sure, she has no fingers and probably couldn't work a zipper from inside, but who really knows?
I'm having trouble shaking that scene from "Poltergeist," when Carol Ann turns to the creepy little Tangina lady and utters: "They're HEEEEEERE!"
This does not bode well for the easygoing Holt household.
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