It was a dark and stormy night. A woman sat alone in her basement, the chill, damp air creeping up her legs. She shivered and adjusted the light, illuminating a tiny figure on the table in front of her.
"This won't hurt," she murmured. Then, under her breath, "much."
I am not a fan of dolls. They give me the creeps, probably because I was traumatized watching "Chuckie" when I was at a sleep over party in the third grade (don't ask).
This poor, hapless doll is nothing like Chuckie. She is sweet and innocent (though it does feel like her little painted eyes follow me around the room at times). A Christmas doll I picked up at Goodwill for a buck last week with one intention in mind: dismemberment.
It had to be done.
It was a bit harder to get my scissors through the cloth of the body around her extremities than expected.
|Note gummy glue stuck on|
|"Mooooom, what is THIS in the sink?!" (Son, while brushing his teeth.)|
I have big plans for this doll involving a vintage wooden box and a shiny, red enamel heart. I can't wait to see how it all comes together--but have to admit I did feel like somewhat of a serial killer taking her apart in the basement.
Let's just hope she stays on the dining room table tonight and doesn't find her way up to my bedroom, Chuckie-style.
What's your latest dissemble project?