I’m a Big Fat Wuss
So I’ve been wanting to do a photoshoot of a creepy doll. My goal was to find one that was totally trashed, but haven’t as of yet. The one I did find at the Goodwill, pictured above, is probably already infected with ultra mega AIDs or something, so I can only imagine what a really bad one would have. So yeah, I did some test shots, and I think it’s going to turn out ok.
Here’s the funny thing: I’m a grown man. I’ve fought in two world wars AND worked as Starr Jones’s OBGYN. I’m pretty much not afraid of anything. And yet, as I was pulling out this doll’s second eye to try some test shots, I couldn’t help but wonder when it was going to come alive and kill me. I didn’t die last night, so I can only guess that my time is coming up soon. Fortunately, all the knives in my house are probably too big for this one to carry, and I don’t really have any kind of wire hanging around that it could use to strangle me. That means it’ll probably drop a toaster in the bath with me, or perhaps set my bed on fire. Or, maybe it’ll break my neck on some stairs. In any event, I think one thing is clear: my days are numbered.
I did one round of test shots that are really, really creepy, but haven’t been fully developed yet. I don’t want to give it away now, but suffice it to say, this doll is probably royally pissed at me. She’s probably going to kill you too, since you’re my friends and all. If I were you, I’d just kill myself now and save the doll the gas money. After all, WWJD?
