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.


Advertisements

3 Comments

  1. Pessoa Jorter said,

    September 29, 2012 at 10:21 am

    You do, in fact, look like a ventriloquist’s doll on Daddy’s lap!

  2. Nancy said,

    September 29, 2012 at 11:33 am

    What kind of punk-ass witchery was that, turning you into a real boy but leaving you with wooden fingers? Whatever. You still pick a mean guitar. Not bad for a table.

  3. fatal said,

    December 3, 2012 at 11:18 am

    I see the true enemy is the table.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: