Well, Scaredy wants to take over for today, to share with all of you the things he's afraid of. Here you go, little guy.
Okay, let's list them off.
Cats. These things terrify me. They are just tiny little dragons with fur. Why does no one recognize this? Their eyes burn like brimstone in the dark. They are witches in disguise. And there is nothing scarier than a shaved naked cat in the dark. Or so I imagine.
It was 2002. I was working as the guy who splices the movies together in a movie theatre. Part of my job was staying after all the movies got out and watching the ones I'd just spliced to make sure they were working okay and in the right order. One night, I spliced together M. Night Shyamalan's third major motion picture, "Signs." I ended up watching the movie alone in an empty movie theatre at 1:00 a.m. I believe I might have gone completely mad that night. I screamed and screamed and screamed, curled up into a ball in my seat, yelled at the screen, and clutched the soda-stained arms of my seat in white-knuckle horror. Eventually the film reached its rather uplifting climax, and then the movie ended. I was frozen to my seat. Before I could get up, I found myself hitting the seat next to me to make sure there wasn't a camouflaged alien sitting there. I ran upstairs to the cobweb-laden projection room (more labyrinth than room, I assert) put away the film, and ran willy-nilly all the way back down the stairs, and outside. I took a stick off the ground and poked around in the back seat of the car to see if there was anything there before getting in. On the way home, I got stopped by a languid train out in the countryside, right in front of a cornfield for about ten minutes. I rolled down my window and yelled at the corn, "I KNOW YOU"RE THERE! YOU STAY AWAY FROM ME!" I figured if I were wrong, then nobody would hear me making a fool of myself anyway. Then I looked up at the creepily ethereal train for which I was still waiting, and seemed to see an ectomorphic figure watching me from atop the caboose. I screamed aloud again, and rolled up the window as fast as it would go. I was really regretting at this point that I lived by myself. When I got home, I turned on all the lights in the house and eventually fell asleep in the bathroom (there were no windows in there). The next morning, I was still terrified by light of day. I found myself checking behind doors, leaving unfinished glasses of water on random pieces of furniture, and eventually sheepishly calling a friend and having him come over so I would have my mind on other things. I swear this is the only time I've ever been terrified even after the movie (except for when I was ten and my parents showed us "Night of the Living Dead," but I think I can cite my age as an excuse on that one). Somehow it tapped into something I wasn't even aware of and scared me to pieces.
Okay, I know you might think I'm joking, but have you ever seen one of these things walk? Yeah, it's slow, but it's also terrifying. And they're actually incredibly fast swimmers. And those claws! Look at them! I heard that sloths are so strong that if one grabs onto your arm, you have to cut the sloth off. I am never letting one of these catch me. Never!
Disembodied hands. I fear hands crawling on me more than anything. It probably has to do with my dad's habit of drawing a smiley face on his hand before spanking us and saying in a chipper tone, "Mr. Spanky Hand is coming!" I can't even watch the Addam's Family. If you sit next to me with your hand on the table, then start running it toward me, I will probably scream and stab or smash it. You've been warned.
Midgets. That's right, folks. The wee ones scare me to pieces. I suppose this is all the fault of Vaughan the Evil Midget, an acquaintance from elementary and high school. Once at the mall, I decided I should try to get over my fear of the nasty midgets, so I found one and walked very closely behind her for a little while. I kept trying to get myself to go closer and closer. The problem was, she was taking only the shortest little steps, and I started moving my legs only from the knees down. Soon I fell over, and she turned around to help me up, and extended her midget hand, and I just screamed and scrabbled away as fast as I could go without looking back. Shudder.
Okay, this is the hardest one for me to do. Spiders. I HATE them. I am so very very afraid of them. Man, this kills me. I almost threw up just then. Even sitting here just thinking about them, I keep hitting my leg every time there's an itch and being very afraid. Okay, breathe. Once, when I was little, a spider had somehow placed its egg sac on the head of my toothbrush. I didn't notice until I had the toothbrush in my hand and literally hundreds of baby spiders running down my forearm. I couldn't seem to get them all off. Oh, man, I hate reliving this. I think I've been scaredy for long enough today. Freaking spider-like itches.
Until next time, Scaredy Smurf