Growing up in a house meant the basement was haunted. That’s just common sense people. The basement is where the ghosts, spiders and scary creatures lived. You have to turn on every light as you go down and be prepared to run for your life back up the stairs to the safety of the first floor.
Let’s set the scene
Let’s set the scene: Little Andie is in the basement with her dolls and wanting to watch something on the tv. Her brother, so graciously decides to flip through the channels to help her find something to watch. In other words something to keep me occupied and to leave him the heck alone.
I’ve made a huge mistake!
“Wait! Stop flipping the channels. I see it. It’s Chuckie.” Can you imagine Little Andie being so excited to watch Chuckie from the RUGRATS! Yeah, me too. Andie’s brother puts on the show and LEAVES. He goes up the stairs CALMLY to the safety of the first floor.
I sit back. I hold my DOLLS closely so they too can enjoy the show. BUT WAIT. That red-haired doll is not ChuckIE from the Rugrats it’s f***ing ChuckY the demon, killer, scary, and run for your life doll.
Let us not forget I’m in the BASEMENT surrounded by all my DOLLS. The next moments are a blur but I took ZERO chances people. I threw all my dolls out. The one my grandma bought me when she visited from Israel. GONE. Po the red Teletubby. GONE. If it had eyes. GONE.
That’s a no for me
I never bought another doll again. I’m 30 and have never seen Chucky again. I thank my big bro for this childhood trauma (see mom it’s not always your fault).