Who's Laughing Now: Chucky's Revenge
A hunting trip with a ventriloquist dummy
Meet Chucky
Have you ever been in a doll collector’s home? I am not referring to someone who “has a couple of dolls”. We are talking about a serious doll collector.
This is the kind of house that has allowed every open space to be occupied by some type of doll. It’s creepy. Isn’t it?
I know it is not just me. And, if you are wondering what all the fuss is about and why it would be so bad to have a house full of dolls, let me queue in on something. You are probably one of those weirdos.
Let’s be honest. Dolls are creepy to most people. This is especially true when the lights go off and you are alone in a dark room with these stuffed, soulless objects with beady eyes.
So, I have no issue telling you that I was not happy when my dad brought home a ventriloquist dummy one day. No laughter was heard from me when he jokingly bestowed the name Chucky on this inanimate object. No, sir. I took it seriously.
I don’t have to explain where the name Chucky originated. No one in my home had even seen the movie, but we were aware of the plot. There was no need to tag this lifeless doll with that type of name.
Now Chucky was a very simple ventriloquist dummy. You can click on that preceding link to get an idea of what he looked like. He was unassuming and normal, as dummies go.
Still, there was something about this guy that creeped me out. When he was brought to life and started making jokes about killing us all in our sleep, I knew he had to go. Everyone wanted a turn at making Chucky seem like a psychotic people-murdering puppet.
The laughs would soon stop and turn into fear and paranoia. You see, everyone thought they were manipulating Chucky, but he was running the show all along.
You can never trust a dummy.
Chucky gets invited to the hunting trip
Soon after Chucky joined the family, my dad was working up a hunting trip with a friend. Our friend had hunting rights on some property down in Luverne, Alabama. Luverne is a small town down in the lower third of the state.
This was a great location for some white-tail deer hunting, or so I was told. I should note that I have never really been known as a master hunter. My idea of hunting is sitting in a tree stand with some honey buns and a cold Mountain Dew.
Everyone said this place was full of deer, though. A group of guys made plans to converge on the property and spend a day in the woods. Someone had the bright idea to suggest spending the night on the land.
On this property was an old home which had not too long before been vacated by a member of the family who still lived on the property in a second home. Since the house was empty, it was offered as a place for our group to camp. To that end, we all packed some sleeping bags and the necessary hunting items.
The drive down to Luverne was little more than an hour. Our crew was spread across a couple of vehicles, and we were all in a great mood as the excitement of the next day’s hunt was building. This mood would soon change for everyone.
We arrived at the old house around dusk and began unloading all of our gear for the night. Each of us crowded into one large den in the front of the home. As we all got ready to turn in for the night, someone started cracking jokes.
Jokes turn sour
The voice making the wisecracks was my father’s, but it wasn’t his normal speaking voice. He was disguising his voice as Chucky. The sound was muffled and distorted as though the dummy was speaking from another room.
My dad unzipped one of his duffle bags and pulled Chucky out and onto his arm. Everyone had a good laugh, and we all took turns acting out the things Chucky would say if he was a deranged puppet bent on killing us all in our sleep. Somehow it seemed funny at the time.
Late into the evening, we all began to settle down. Chucky was zipped snuggly back in to his bag, and the group tried to get some sleep. There was an occasional wisecrack or mimicking of Chucky’s voice as he angrily yelled at us from inside the closed bag.
I have to admit, it was pretty funny until it stopped being funny. Hours later, I found myself scanning across the dark room. There were so many normal items that took on a creepy demeanor in that hour of the evening.
There was no getting Chucky out of my mind. I knew the angry little puppet was feet from my sleeping bag, so I kept a watchful eye. Whenever my eyes were not trained on Chucky’s bag, I was taking account of the freaky elements in the room.
By the door hung the old man’s hat and cane. Until recently, those might have been something he grabbed as he left the door. Why they now appeared so haunted, I cannot say.
A blanket was hung down from the fireplace to cover the opening and keep out the cold draft. As the wind blew down the old chimney, the material would float out away from the fireplace in a ghostly way. It was just an old blanket blown by the wind, but it gave a different vibe in the dark of night.
Conclusion
When we woke the next morning, most of us had not slept that well. Was it the jokes regarding Chucky, or the haunting vibes of the old house? I cannot say for sure, but I can tell you that I was not rested.
There is much more to this story that I will share in my next post. Our trip did not end here. You will also learn in the next story just how much of a hunter I am.
I thought it might be a good idea to wrap this story up with some life lessons that might be valuable to my readers. So, here we go:
1) Never allow a ventriloquist dummy in your home. It simply is not worth the emotional toll the experience will take on your life. A dummy can never be trusted.
2) Jokes are funny, until they are not
3) There’s always that one guy who takes a joke too far
I hope one of these lessons is helpful for you today. Thank you for taking time to read this story, and I hope you return to read the follow on. All I can tell you about the next story is that it involves a prosthetic hook hand, a hot breakfast, and a police scanner.
