D Day Minus 191 (August 29, 2009): Say Goodnight Freddy Krueger

You jumped back like you just saw a ghost.  Only it was Freddy Krueger.  Well it wasn’t really Freddy Krueger. But if you wouldn’t have bounced into my room like Tigger (from Winnie the Pooh) excitedly telling me that you and Dad were going to Best Buy, you would have known.  Sure the lights were low and the television wasn’t very bright and the sound was muted. But at least I was watching Building an Empire on the History Channel instead of the E! News.  I was in the middle of an experimental beauty regimen.  I seriously thought you and Dad had already left for Best Buy.   I thought I was free to retreat to my healing and beauty sanctuary.  That imaginary place I go with white fluffy pillows that smell like toasted pecans lit by hundreds of candles.  My eyes were closed as I was healing.  Healing my soul!  Healing my heart!  Healing my body!  Healing my face!  Only to interrupted by you!  And that s*** eating grin like you could blackmail for life.

 “Where’s Freddy and when are you going to give him back his mask?” You asked, heavy on the sarcasm.

 “Shut up and get out of here.” I glared but you couldn’t tell because only slivers of eyes peeked through the mask. I couldn’t move my head very well either because the treatment mask was sort of dripping on my pillow.

 “Seriously, where’s Freddy?” You burst out laughing and called Dad upstairs.  And said something about your phone, a camera and being set for life.  Then you started up with your exaggerated knee slapping smart aleck laugh.

“I’m going kill you if you don’t leave.” I barely choked out “kill you” before I started laughing -- hard. It was like doing serious ab work.  Just when I progressed to my snorting laugh, Dad headed up to our bedroom.


“Turkeyman, are we going or not?”  Dad’s voice trailed as he made his way up the stairs. “Leave your mother alone.” Dad stopped at the door jam and shook his head like I was an idiot.

“Yeah.” I said. “Leave your mother alone.” And shook a faux angry fist when you turned to leave.  

When you and Dad were in the foyer, I yelled, “Yeah and get me some Diet Mountain Dew, too.”  Dad mumbled something about me getting off my lazy butt and getting it myself, punctuated by the slamming of the front door.

After you left, Freddy came off. I was all alone looking at myself in the mirror with a wicked smile plastered on my face.  And a big fat secret.  “You’ll never know the real Nightmare on Rutherford Circle.”