It’s story time boys and girls. Today I want to share with you a family tradition.
Well, my weird ass family tradition. Bear with me.
When I was a child, my older sister came home from college, and, um, well, let’s just say she “provided” me with some illegal substances (I was probably 13 or 14 years old…) and when I was feeling little pain, put on “The Shining”. I’m not even sure how that happened as I don’t think we had cable and this was well before VCR’s and that sort of thing. Anyway, we watched it..and then she convinced my buzzed brain that the bushes in the moonlit yard were moving, like the demonic topiary in the movie.
I was scared shitless, she was rolling on the floor laughing (buzzed as well..) and well, I still hate topiary.
When it was my turn to pass the baton…I was babysitting my younger sister….and let her stay up and watch “The Blob”. She was probably 7 or 8 years old…and it scared the crap out of her. Which pleased me greatly, as I had no love for her, as she was my little sister. You know how that goes. Anyway, the next morning, while she was eating her cereal, I leaned over and whispered, oh so evilly in her ear, “Blob. Blob. Blob!” She started bawling, the story came out and I was spanked heartily, which didn’t stop me from laughing my ass off, while my dad smacked me.
As a parent…my oldest daughter (young teen) wanted to watch “The Exorcist.” Fine. I was exhausted..I let her watch it, in bed with me, lights on. I fell promptly to sleep, having worked that day. I was roused to consciousness by my daughter shaking the shit out of me, which scared the shit out of me..she had her hands on both of my shoulders and she was screaming…I levitated to my ceiling…my fingernail marks are still there…and the scene, you may be asking, that prompted this screaming??? Oh, it was the scene where they heard a noise in the attic, and just OPENED THE FREAKING ATTIC DOOR. I nearly beat the crap out of her for scaring the crap out of me for such a lame scene. Seriously.
The baton was just passed. My oldest daughter, home recently for a visit…decided to scare the crap out of my youngest son. We turned off all the lights and put on “Paranormal Activity.” Now mind you, this is Michigan and it started at 8pm, so it was still fairly well-lit outside. Plus this version was interrupted with commercials and edited, so not as scary as it could have been.
My son, Mr Machismo, sat next to my daughter, watching the show. He seemed unimpressed. Until the demonic activity. Then my son, born and raised in Africa, until he was 7 years old, who came her 4.5 years ago with an African dialect; who is being raised in a Jewish household since he arrived and is going to Hebrew school–my son saw the demonic activity and nearly shit himself. My son began swaying forward and back, hands raised to the sky, like he was at a revival meeting, and he began singing, IN A SOUTHERN ACCENT “OH LORD JESUS! COME HELP US JESUS! OH LORD JESUS! COME SAVE US NOW!!”
I nearly fell off the couch, laughing. I said to my son..”Ummm…baby….you do realize that you’re being raised Jewish, right???” He replied that at a time like this you needed Jesus. I said that I wasn’t sure that his Jewish father would agree…he answered back that even his father would ask for Jesus if there was a demon around..
We continued watching the movie…there was more demonic activity…my son began his chanting again…I said “DUDE! What is with the Jesus stuff???” He answered that he was willing to try any religion to survive the demon–even Hindu…
We kept watching…more demonic activity..more Jesus chanting…reaching a fevered pitch now…my daughter and I laughing hysterically…and then mid chant, my son stopped, looked around and said,”OH–I just pee’d my pants…just a little bit..” I said “For the love of god, go upstairs and change them!” He refused to go upstairs alone..demons, you know…
He ended up sleeping with my oldest daughter that night. He woke up the next morning and said “OH! I forgot to change my pee pants last night before I came to bed!” Needless to say she was not pleased…
I suppose I should mention how all of this started…with my own parents, of course…my father, who used to chase us, chanting “FEE FI FO FUM, I SMELL THE BLOOD OF AN ENGLISHMAN, BE HE LIVE OR BE HE DEAD, I’LL GRIND HIS BONES TO MAKE MY BREAD!!” Which is an AWESOME visualization to a young child with an overactive imagination. Not.
There was also the time my father put a rubber rat in my older sister’s towel while she was in the shower…she had done something to set him off and he was getting his revenge…so yeah..she yelled something fierce…I can still hear him cackling away…which only taught me how to hide rubber snakes in the kitchen cabinet to fall on my mom’s face (she hated snakes….) so…
I guess what I’m trying to say is…just wait until I finally write all this craziness out into a book.
And don’t turn your back on me in the dark. Just saying.