The AV Strange Sense of Humor
What the Hell, Dude?
The sinister happenings took place around 10 at night about a week ago. I was on a walk to brush off the stresses of the day, taking in the cool air and the clarity the night quiet provides.
To set the scene, I live in a suburb across the river from Philly, but one that looks more like a neighborhood in the city. Houses are close together, streets are narrow, and every curb is lined with cars. The main street is filled with restaurants and shops and can stay active late. But the further you get away from the main drag, the quieter it will get at night.
My mind wanders when I walk. It is a time to delve into the creative, and sometimes I can formulate a new direction for a novel chapter, or an entire short story. But I am always aware of my surroundings. My head is constantly moving so that I know as much about what is to the side and behind me as I do directly in front.
Another important fact that will seem to contradict my diligence in keeping a 360 degree understanding of my surroundings, I don’t see things well that are further away these days, especially at night. I have glasses but tend to only wear them regularly when driving. So it should not be a surprise that I did not have my glasses with me.
As I walked down this particular street, I was on the sidewalk, the parked cars on my left, there was something not right with the car I was approaching. The curb line was packed with cars as usual, but at this spot there was a break between bumpers, giving me an unencumbered view of the back. The car was an SUV, and there was a figure at the left, rear of the car. The figure was the height of the bumper.
My eyes couldn’t bring it into focus. Immediately, I thought of a racoon on its hind legs. I slowed to a stop as my brain and imagination got together and filled in the blurry areas. The new, artistic rendition before me was a raging, rabid raccoon, fully looking bipedal, with those creepy front extremities that are uncannily similar to human fingers. I waited, readying myself for its next move. Except, it didn’t move. Not at all. Still as a statue. I continued walking forward, albeit much slower, anticipating a reaction, but getting nothing.
Now about 10 feet away but at a part in the street that is not revealed by the sparse streetlighting, the figure no longer looked like a racoon. It looked like a kid, a toddler to be exact. My own childhood memories kicked in, ones that are far too influenced by horror movies. Mental images of The Puppet Master, Chucky, The Dolls, flooded my brain and the blurry filled in again. A tiny person standing at the back of the car, leaning on the bumper. If it was a young kid, where the hell were his parents?
The closer I got, the one consistent theme remained. It was not moving, not even the most subtle of gestures. Nothing. I took out my phone and opened the camera. If I was going to succumb to the violence of a devil child, perhaps I could leave behind a found footage situation.
A few steps more and alas, the image was clear. Someone posed a very realistic, life-sized doll against a car. Why? I will leave it to you to consider.
