I thought it might be wise to put pen to paper (or in this more specific case, fingers to keyboard) in the event that I'm never heard from again. My husband is on shift, the children are asleep in their beds and there is a Lightening McQueen race car out in my family room alternating between shouting, "Where am I" and "Wanna race?"
I am taking this to be both the bewilderment of the spirit possessing it as well as its malevolent desire to hurt me and short of this bitch catching fire, I refuse to go out there.
This is just the latest in a long string of odd occurrences that have gone down around here lately. Beginning a couple weeks ago, my daughter began talking about a certain "Michael Taxenor" to my husband. I can only guess at the spelling of that last name as I have no earthly idea who Michael Taxenor is, but explaining to my husband that this was a figment of my daughter's imagination after she told him "Michael Taxenor comes to my house while you're at work" was interesting. Upon further questioning I was let off the hook, however, when she expanded her story to explain "He's a little black boy in my room."
I still chalked it up to imagination until last week when my 2-year-old pointed to the corner of MY bedroom and asked, "Who dat man?" I did what the average parent would do and hauled ass straight out of there. (Yes, I took him with me.) My son then proceeded to run to me every time I put him at the kitchen table to eat and tell me he was scared of the "Boogey" under the table who was kicking and biting him.
I automatically pictured the scene from Poltergeist where the entity stacks all of the chairs on the kitchen table and started wondering how I would go about googling diminutive women who would tell my "Boogey" to cross over into the light. This has persisted ever since and been witnessed by both sets of grandparents as well. Everyone agrees, this is some f-ed up shit.
Which leaves us at this evening and a Pixar character's desire to communicate with me and possibly bring me bodily harm from across my house. I'm going to turn on all of the lights and watch Pretty Woman at full volume until morning as a means of distracting myself from my impending fate. If I should disappear, please check all snowy TV channels in the off chance that I'm just in some parallel hell dimension that you can merely pull me out of through the ceiling, but if I'm not there, you're gonna need to burn this place down and salt the earth. It's for all of our sakes.
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