Puppet Boy

Before I was born I was a puppet. My parents wanted my sister to think she had an older brother so my father got a boy puppet and learned ventriloquism. Eventually my parents took the puppet to a local witch and she turned me into a little boy. I wanted to play guitar to impress my mother, an avid Elvis fan, but my puppet fingers were too small and wood-like.

My sister never liked me much so I was turned back into a puppet. But it wasn’t the same. My father, a craftsman, turned me into a table with tools he kept in the basement. Eventually they had another child, a little brother for my sister. He fell off the couch and hit his head on “the table”. There was a lot of blood. The  babysitter screamed and screamed.  She didn’t know what to do. Eventually she turned to a life of drugs.

My parents decided they had to sell or give away “the table”. I was moved to a neighbor’s house and they put me in the living room. There was a very attractive girl that lived there and she would sit on “the table” from time to time. I enjoyed that.