October Stories - Larry
I’ve been thinking about the toys from my youth lately, so I figured this was a good time to get this particular one out of my system. Perhaps then I can move on with my life, to start looking forward without the fear that something is creeping up behind me. That “something” is Larry, my cousin Tim’s ventriloquist doll.
To call it a toy is not quite accurate, I think it is more of a lifestyle. I can’t picture a store like Toys R Us carrying this item. It seems more like an object a mysterious traveler bestows upon you, with all of the attendant Gremlins-style warnings. Whatever the events were that brought Larry into our world, one day I went to my cousin Tim and Eric’s house, and there he was. I guess Tim wanted to put together an act for family gatherings or talent shows. I’m never sure what would possess someone to get mixed up in the dark art of ventriloquism.
Initially, I shrugged off any creepiness that I felt and tried to ignore that doll, but I could feel his gaze from the top bunk and I finally had to surrender to the fear. I sort of stuck a smile on my face as Tim showed me how it worked - the post that turned its head, the switches for its eyes and mouth, and the small compartment that held your soul. Did I mention that I would be sleeping over that night? I just knew that sometime in the wee hours of the night Larry would be spastically making his way down the ladder and across the floor to get us.
Poor Eric, he’d been living in this environment for a lot longer than I had and it showed. When Tim left the room, he demonstrated how if you opened Larry’s mouth and then punched him in the stomach, he would cough up stuffing. The only way Eric could know this is if he had at some point put a beat-down on Larry. This intrigued me. Tim would have to go to the washroom again sometime, leaving that little fucker alone and outnumbered. Eventually, that moment came and we sprung into action. We quickly climbed up the ladder, Eric opened the doll’s mouth and I started punching. I didn’t stop, couldn’t stop until we heard Tim approaching. Eric threw him off the top bunk and its head thunked on the floor. Tim yelled, “Larry!”, and wept openly over his twisted body. He didn’t actually weep, but he was pretty angry. That event was a turning point, a change had occurred. The tables had turned and everyone in the room knew it. So listen up, Larry, you’d better keep that cheap, plastic head of yours on a swivel. Sometime tonight Tim will have to leave you alone again and Eric and I have some unfinished business.
P.S. - The mists of time may have clouded my memory of the exact events of this dark episode of my life. Because of the stress of the situation, my account may differ from the other players in this tragic, little drama. My apologies for any inaccuracies to those involved…except Larry.
