So, yesterday I wrote about how a clown doll recently cursed me. Then, Paladin wrote me a story. I can’t even tell you how absolutely thrilled I was- it was everything and I have to say, incorporated a remarkable amount of references to previous blog posts. Thank you Paladin- this comment meant the world to me!
The girl lay in bed all snuggly and warm, pleasant thoughts of a turkey bacon and gummy worm breakfast dancing in her head. Silvery beams from a gibbous moon played through her bedroom window. The trees outside spread their winter bare arms and cast jagged shadows across the ceiling and walls of the little room.
Drowsiness began to overtake the Prettiest Pretty Princess, her long lashed eyelids getting heavier and heavier as she drifted closer to the night’s slumber. She was in the Borderlands now… that fabled place between the waking world and that of dreams. Not quite awake, and yet not fully wrapped in the arms of sleep’s oblivion. The shapes around her, painted in shades of grey and black shadow, began to soften and blurr as she drifted off ….
Except for the closet door.
“I closed that door before coming to bed,” she thought. “…Or did I?” Her sleepy mind could not recall, but the door was definitely open now.
What began as a low groan gathered in pitch into a creaking screech as the hinges swung the door slowly outward, revealing even blacker shadows within. The Pretty Princess scrunched herself further beneath the covers drawing them up above her nose so that just her eyes peered out as the dark gaping maw of the closet doorway widened noisily before her.
The screeching door mercifully stopped its travel, and silence returned to the dark bedroom with a palpable force. The quiet was so complete that it almost hurt her ears. She could see nothing within that inky blackness beyond the closet door, but she was overcome by the dread that something was indeed there… waiting and listening. She realized that she had been holding her breath. When she let it out with a whoosh it sounded dangerously loud in the small still space.
“Was that something moving?” she thought. Her heart began to thump faster within her breast as the shadow within shadows began to slowly emerge from the closet.
“Who… Who’s there?” she said, her shaky voice sounding odd and rough to her own ears.
The Shadow crept foward, coming ever closer. It began to edge stealthily into the moonbeam light mere inches from the Princess’ bed. It was a child’s toy clown… but not the kind of toy that had ever brought joy to a little girl or boy. No laughter had ever been born from the sight of this harlequin from hell. It’s feet shuffled along slowly, the long oafish shoes dragging softly along the carpet. It’s grotesque head seemed too large for its spindly neck as it wobbled too and fro. Arms lacking bone and muscle dangled and swung as it trundled closer to the bedside.
“I, am Mr. Tickle Limper,” came a sneering, scratchy voice. The hinged jaw of the sick clown clicked menacingly up and down as it spoke.
“Wha…. What do you want?” the Princess stammered.
“I smell gingerbread…. and I love’s to eat me some gingerbread…hehehe”.
The Pretty Princess lowered the sheets a bit and sat up straighter in bed.
“Gingerbread?…. GINGERBREAD??! Who the hell are you calling gingerbread, you freaky little dwarf?” she growled.
The Evil Mr. Tickle Limper stopped moving forward. His painted on expression did not change, but confusion and doubt was evident none the less.
“If you think you can just waltz in here and gobble me up, you’ve got another thing coming. How Very DARE YOU!” she exclaimed, rising further from the bed.
“Hey… hold on a minute now,” the evil clown stammered as it backed up a shuffling step.
“Don’t you ‘hold on’ me,” she replied as she reached beneath the covers.
The Prettiest Pretty Princess drew forth an object known far and wide to strike fear and loathing into the hearts of demonic creatures everywhere…. Mr. Tickle Limper drew back in terror as the Princess hefted the Four Story Miracle Condom Water Ballon in one perfectly manicured hand.
“Now, now… lets be reasonable,” Mr. Tickle Limper stuttered as he backed further away from the bed.
“Reasonable THIS”, she cried, throwing the mysteriously indestructable hydro-prophylactic missle. Her aim, like her heart, was true. Mr. Tickle Limper staggered backward into the dark closet, reeling from the impact. The closet door, silently this time, swung slowly closed.
Seriously, you guys, I have the BEST readers in the world. Please know I adore y’all and every comment makes me smile. HEART. (I know this was a bit of a sappy post from me but I promise to get back to the ridiculousness next week.)