Tuesday, January 15, 2008

My Nightly Assassin

The lovely and talented LIZ and the ugly and talent-less EARL have recently been recanting how, when they were young, they used to believe they had monsters under their bed. I figured I may as well tell ya'll about my nightly visitor.

You might think, what with my fascination of horror movies and all things creepy, that I too would have had a furry beastie under my bed each night.

But nope, for some twisted reason, my boogie-man was exactly that:

A man.

I used to imagine that a young man, a hired assassin, would come to my bedroom window every few days, and try to kill me. He would only come every few days, because, much like Santa Claus, he had alot of people on his "kill" list, so he could only visit me every few days between his other attempted kills (ok, maybe that wasn't too much like Santa after all).


Looking back on it, it was really quite bizarre. Whenever he DID come, he would sit on my windowsill, and point a gun at me. He would then give me 10 seconds to get my little feet and hands all tucked and snug under my blankets. His rule for killing anyone was, he could ONLY shoot people in the feet or hands, so as long as I was under the blankets, I was safe.

He was a really nice guy though. He didn't WANT to kill me, he was just doing his job. So, while he sat on the sill, waiting for me to slip up and poke an extremity from under the blanket, we would chat about any number of things, like school, my mom and dad, my pets... you name it.

Looking back, I can honestly say that my secret assassin was the closest thing I had as a child to an imaginary friend.

But you have to remember, I was like 6 or 7 when I used to imagine this guy.
6 years old! How fucked up is that?

Anyway, even though I used to scare myself into a near frenzy whenever I played this "game" at night, I ended up permitting this no-named killer to visit me regularly, probably until I was 10 or so.

And when I became too old to play those kinds of "kids" games at bedtime, I remember kind of missing the guy a bit.

I have no witty ending to this story (do I ever?). I just think I was a pretty fucked up kid.

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