Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Happy Blogiversary! Part 3

This week marks the one year anniversary of me consistently posting nonsense on the Internet. Hooray.

To celebrate my very first blogiversary, I'm going to re-post some of my favorite and most read posts from the past year. Yeah, it's a pretty lazy celebration, but I'll use any excuse to not do stuff.

Today it will be Kirby the Kidnapper. Enjoy.

Kirby the Kidnapper

When my sister, Amy, and I were seven or eight, we went through a phase where we were convinced that we were going to be kidnapped. Our parents tried to talk us out of it, but we knew it was just a matter of time before a stranger came to abduct one or both of us.

One day the two of us were walking to the grocery store down the street. On the way, a car pulled to the curb a few feet ahead of us. A man stepped out and walked toward us. This was it. Standing before us was the man who was going to take us away from our parents, our home, and our sweet scrunchy-making machine.

We screamed, and cried, and dashed to the front door of the nearest house. We threw our fists against the door. "Help!  Someone help us!" we pleaded. There was no need to look back, I could feel our abductor advancing upon us. We kept pounding against the door, but it was becoming clear that no adult was going to swoop in to save us this time.

We ducked around the corner to the alley behind the house. I'm not sure if or how long the man chased us, but we ran for our lives back home, into our bedroom, and threw the covers over our heads. We couldn't believe that we had looked into the face of evil and managed to survive.

Later that evening, we heard the doorbell ring. People coming to the front door and ringing the doorbell was rare at our house. We're from a small town and we knew everyone who came to our house. And they came in through the side door in the kitchen. And usually without knocking.

We crept down to investigate. And there he stood. The kidnapper was at our door, talking to our parents. Jesus Christ, it wasn't over. We thought we had escaped, but our abductor had managed find us and was back to take us away.

Somehow our parents were able to drive him away. "Who was he?  What did he say to you?" we asked when he was gone.

"The Kirby Vacuum salesman."

Amy and me.  Lucky to have lived into adulthood.
"Fuuuuuck," we groaned (or whatever the childhood equivalent of that word is). Turns out our evil kidnapper was just a door-to-door salesman, probably trying to ask us for directions. And our natural reaction was to cry and scream in his face, then run away as fast as we could. And that shit is embarrassing, even when you're seven.

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