A childhood memory…

I am four, maybe five. I stay up all night with my older brother watching Child’s Play. I beg him to let me watch with him. The only reason he lets me watch is because he is too scared to watch by himself. We stay up all night and watch the murderous doll kill time after time until the sun shows it’s face and the real action begins.

My brother is being too nice.

“We should go downstairs and hunt for Chucky,” he says. He never wants to play with me. His motives are suspect, but I agree. We arm ourselves with two wiffle ball bats and proceed to the basement. He stays back as I plow forward, checking in every shadow and prepare to defend myself at all costs.

We enter the room filled with the toy kitchen set that includes a stove and a refrigerator. I pull the oven open and back away quickly ready to swing at anything that might jump out at me. Nothing happens. I open the fridge and repeat. Nothing happens. I have one option left. I tighten my grip on the bat and prepare myself for what would seem like a bases-loaded bottom of the ninth situation. I yank the freezer door open and out pops Chucky. I swing and he lands on the floor at my brother’s feet. I race over and beat the doll until his eye pops out but I don’t stop knowing that I am saving my brother until finally a laugh brings me out of my rage.

I look up and discover it is my brother’s laugh and the doll at his feet is not Chucky, but one from my own collection that much like the kitchen set, has never been used. I am ready to take the bat to my brother but realize, given the chance, I would pull the same prank on him. The end result though, would be him running out of the room screaming.

Joke’s on you, Bro.

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