Monday, July 11, 2011

Did you know I was afraid of the dark?


I'm a spooky person. Always have been. My beloved mumsie told me that when I was really little, we could be out shopping or whatever, and if I lost sight of her, I'd instantly go into hysterics. Who knows what I was afraid of. Probably being snatched up by some psycho killer.

I can remember being a scaredy cat from about age 8. We lived in a nice house in the country that had a long, long, long hallway. It was probably about 30 miles long. Whenever I needed to go from the common areas of the house to one of the bedrooms which were down the deadly hall, I would run as fast as I could to get to the desired room. I was always fearful that a sinister, deadly hand would reach out from one of the rooms I ran past, and grab me. I'm not sure what would happen after the hand grabbed me. I was always running too fast to find out.

One thing I think caused some of the fear was a story that my parents used to tell me over and over again. Since we lived way out in Nowhereville, it was very obvious when someone came driving or walking up to the house. You see, we lived about a quarter mile off of the highway. And down the highway about 100 miles was a complex of Texas prisons. Mom and Dad always told me that I should NEVER EVER EVER open up the door if some strange person came up. They said that the stranger could be an escaped convict who could kill me. So I spent years worrying that death was eminent. Maybe it was the escaped convict who would grab me if he ever got the chance while I was blasting down the hallway!

Of course, I had the usual kid-fear of the monster under the bed. No limbs were ever allowed to hang over the edge of the bed, or remain uncovered. And I'm sure that a monster was living in the closet, so I had to always make sure the closet doors were closed. Because everyone knows that monsters can't open doors.

I didn't like swimming in water where I couldn't see the bottom either. And this was BEFORE the movie Jaws ever came out. I was simply sure that a large kid eating eel was lurking in the depths. In front of our house there was a pond that we used to swim in. In the summer, some hairy, stringy (killer) algae type stuff would grow and when you swam through it, it felt like tiny little fingers were grabbing you. Trying to pull you under. Forever. I'd get a huge running start and try to walk on water, over the stuff until I could sink in the "safe" water. But then the worries about the kid eating eel would set in. Lots of times, our dog Screwey would swim with me. That made me feel a little better. Except then, I got to worry about her 12" talons scratching me if she got too close

Speaking of water sports, when I was really small, my parents took us to Galveston. Or somewhere with a beach. I don't really remember this, but Mummy told me that I was in a panic when I was wading in the surf because I was afraid the crabsters were going to pinch me.

I didn't like spiders, either. Still don't. When I was about 10 or so, I was bitten by a black widow. It made me really sick and I got to see how fast dad could drive on the ride from the house to the hospital. I think we were going about 150 miles per hour. That man sure could drive. Move over Mario Andretti! My dad is taking me to the hospital! We should have gotten an endorsement from the Ford Motor Company for showing that a 70s model LTD sedan could go 150 mph.

I wouldn't say I'm scared of worms but they do wig me out pretty badly. For some reason, when I look at a worm, my hiney cringes and I have an instant need to hurl. If I don't look away really fast, I WILL hurl. It doesn't matter if I'm at the White House, standing before the President and 27 dignitaries, if I see a worm and look too long at it, I'm gonna hurl. More than likely on their shoes.

I'll share one more fear with ya. Oh yes, I have thousands, but if I told you all of them, I'd have to kill you. So anyway, at certain times shrimp scare me. I love to eat shrimp. Love them!!! But once when I was starting out living on my own, I had some shrimp leftovers. I wasn't very schooled in the culinary arts, so I didn't know how long shrimp leftovers could be saved. I figured that since they were cooked, they'd last a good long time. I think I waited about a week and a half before I finished them off and when I did, I go horribly sick. The kind of sick where you throw up so much, you feel your toenails pass over your tonsils. I recall thinking that the shrimps were a bit slickery when I was eating them but hunger overruled sanity.
Long story short, now whenever I eat shrimp, if they are the least little bit slippery I spit them out. Way out. Like, maybe they fly clear over to the next table because I want to make that sucker is at least 500 yards from my stomach. So I sort of have a fear of shrimp. But only the slickery kind.

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