Tuesday, December 27, 2011
These are the Zombie Portuguese dolls. When I was a little girl, someone in my family gifted me with this set of dolls dressed up in Portuguese clothing- the little black biretta on the boys and the 17 skirts on the girls.
For some reason I was terrified of them. Perhaps it is because their eyes broke early on, forever rolling up in their heads and revealing the empty stare of blue plastic. I became convinced that the dolls were alive and attempted to throw them out. (I'd seen snatches of Chucky playing at the video store. I knew how to take my movies seriously.)
No matter what I did, the dolls always returned. I'd find them under the bed... sitting on the bookshelf... laid casually at the foot of the stairs.
This only increased my terror of the dolls. In fact, perhaps it had something to do with my deep fondness for both Little Pony and G.I. Joes. Little Pony never looks like possessed zombies in traditional Portuguese clothes, and I was confident that G.I. Joe could kick the zombie's butts if need be.
I thought I had thrown them out for the last time when I moved out and took my stuff out of the basement.
When my parents bought their new house and moved thirty miles away, I found the dolls in a box in the attic.
I threw them away again, cackling in glee, convinced they could never survive a moving-house purging.
Last year, my mother found them... in a box, in the Christmas stuff.
She cackled with glee herself. And put them in her Christmas tree where they probably still are to this day.
Merry Christmas, everyone.