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🤥CP: I like to collect things that remind me of my childhood. I occasionally wander through yard sales or thrift stores, looking for old toys like those I once owned, trinkets similar to the kind my grandmother collected, or old souvenirs from places I visited with my parents.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: I'm with you so far.
🤥CP: This hobby of mine usually produces nothing but happiness,
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: Until now, I sense a huge "but" coming right up.
🤥CP: but
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: BINGO!
🤥CP: last summer it was the source of a nightmare.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: Since this was submitted probably in early 2016, that would mean "last summer" was the summer of 2015, oh boy, the same summer the reboot for Jeff The Killer is set. Well, let's see if we can make a connection. Maybe, maybe not.
🤥CP: I found it at some little old lady’s yard sale, somewhat hidden between a box of old baseball cards and a milk-crate full of beat up action figures.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: nice try giving me a mental image, you succeeded there. But logic tends to trump persuasion here, so I must ask: how in the world did you remember that? When I go to garage sales, I see something I like and buy it, and then forget just what was along side it to at least some degree. It just isn't important. But you actually remembered specifically baseball cards, action figures and their condition, and what these items were actually in. Uh okay...?
🤥CP: People always joke that Furbies were creepy,
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: Yes, which is annoying as all heck. Old jokes are as irritating as any other meme and they just won't freaking die.
🤥CP: but I absolutely adored mine when I was a kid. I considered it more of a friend than a toy and would spend hours talking to it and stroking its fur.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: Understandable. They are cute.
🤥CP: While I held the black and white ball of fuzz in my hands, I couldn’t help but to remember the tea parties and games of house that I played with the pink one I carried everywhere 15 years ago.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: Black and white, hm, you must've got the tuxedo furby, if this is a 1998 model. Furby Boom has black and white stripes or zigzag patterns too, I believe. In any event, you must've had your pink one back in 2000. And now, this black and white. Hmmm, Jeff is known for his black hair and white skin...
🤥CP: The little old lady that I bought it from didn’t seem to remember having it, but happily reasoned that “my grandkids accumulated so many toys here over the years; I couldn’t possibly keep track of everything.”
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: But leaving a furby behind? Nah, that's definitely not believable. An action figure or small stuffed toy that doesn't do anything, sure. But electronic toys are not usually something children will leave behind.
🤥CP: I politely listened as she told me about 2 grandsons and 3 granddaughters, how they used to visit every weekend until they grew up and moved on with lives and families of their own, before heading home with my newest treasure.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: Yeah. Well, at least you kept her company for a while.
🤥CP: I played with the Furby for a while, giggling at the childish gibberish it spoke and running my fingers over its still-soft fur. The white on its belly was kind of dirty, and the fluff on top of its head was missing more than a few strands, but it worked well and made me happy. I placed it on a shelf in my bedroom before eating dinner and going to sleep.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: As anyone would do. Interesting it's missing some fur. Hmmm.
🤥CP: I woke in the middle of the night to a kind of hissing sound coming from the doll. I removed the batteries and went back to bed.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: Sounds like this furby is of the same rotten ilk as Mark with all that racket-making during the night.
🤥CP: The next day, I replaced the batteries and it seemed to be working fine again.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: Some older furbies tend to be a bit glitchy or fussy about what type of batteries are used.
🤥CP: I ran my fingers through the white fur on its head, and vowed to be more careful with it when a clump of that fur came off in my hand.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: So it's apparent this furby has been not in great condition for some time.
🤥CP: That night I woke yet again to the hissing sound, but this time it was louder.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: It apparently read the Mark rule book on how to be an obnoxious pest. Seriously, why don't these things ever hiss during the day?
🤥CP: As I approached the Furby, I realized that it was whispering in its own little language. I figured that it wasn’t a stretch for a toy so old and well-used to malfunction, so I removed the batteries and decided to only have them in when I was actually playing with it. My little problem was solved, for the time being.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: If it's a 1998 furby, it's glitchy. If it's a 2012 furby, it does whisper some gibberish when put in the "evil" personality. But 1998 furby is much easier to remove and replace batteries.
🤥CP: Three days went by. I had been busy with work and such and hadn’t paid much attention to any of the toys on the shelves. I had had a friend over for dinner, and grabbed the Furby from my room to show it to her. We joked around and she messed with it for a few minutes while I cooked before she commented on the state of it.
“I know you love this thing, but wouldn’t you be happier with one that’s not in such bad shape? There are patches of fur missing, and it’s dirty.”
I knew about the bit missing from the top, but I could have sworn that the two dime-sized bald spots that she pointed out on its backside hadn’t been there before. Perplexed, I mumbled something about it being “well-loved” before putting it back on the shelf and finishing dinner.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: Hmh, some kind of furby factory reject. As if it's coming apart with exposure to touch after all this time. Maybe it's allergic to love.
🤥CP: After my friend left, I settled on the couch to watch some TV before bed. I heard a thump come from somewhere in the house, and muted the show so that I could listen for the source. Just as I was about to shrug it off as nothing and turn the volume back on, I heard another thump and the “hee hee hee” the Furby makes when you tickle it.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: Okay, so then this is the 1998 model, it's the only one that laughs like that.
🤥CP: I armed myself with the umbrella I keep by the door and slowly made my way into my bedroom, wondering what kind of intruder would stop to play with his victim’s toys. It giggled again as I entered the room, ready to strike with my improvised weapon. There was no intruder, and the only sign of something being amiss was the Furby on the floor in the middle of the room. I checked every possible hiding spot, listening intently for footsteps or other signs of not being alone, before turning to leave the room to check the rest of the house. Right before I walked through the door, I heard the nasally voice of the toy behind me.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: So it fell, laughed, and now it says what?
🤥CP: “Bleed.”
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: *Scowl* Are you sure you heard that right? It could've said "Ring" or "Sleep" but then, this is a glitches out tuxedo furby, so maybe its weird mess-up actually made it say "bleed" hmm. Definitely something Jeff would say if he had been turned into a furby.
🤥CP: I turned to the toy as a shudder ran through me. I stared at it for a moment, wondering if I had heard it correctly. The lids of its eyes slowly shut and reopened before it spoke again.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: Well speak up, monster!
🤥CP: “Die. Bleed. Die. Hee hee hee.”
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: Jeff Furby, you're wanted for making death threats. *Scowl*
🤥CP: I picked it up and practically ran to my front door to throw it outside. As I shut the door, I heard it laugh again. I tried to continue watching TV, but the little monster on my front lawn prevented me from focusing on what was happening on the screen. After about an hour of jumping at every little noise and nervously glancing at the windows that looked out at the yard, I went to bed and spent the night dreaming about tiny fuzzy demons attacking me.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: Solution, take out its batteries. Then give yourself enough time to get over the fright.
🤥CP: The next morning, I sleepily got ready for work while still trying to shake off the encounter and the nightmares it caused. I opened the front door, intending to not even glance at the thing that sat somewhere in the grass, and froze in my tracks at the sight of my front porch.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: I would've assumed the furby would be long gone. Things like that could get nicked in a hurry if just left out on the lawn. But okay, what's the matter with your porch?
🤥CP: The Furby sat in the center of the front step,
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: *Scowl* Dang. Just when you actually want something to get stolen.
🤥CP: surrounded by blood and clumps of light brown fur. Its yellow plastic beak had a small piece of meat hanging from it, as if I had caught it mid-bite. It had lost a lot more fur, so much that I could see the plastic underneath, and what was left of it was matted and brown.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: Furby tried to kill a ground squirrel or rat, just a guess.
🤥CP: Sitting inches away from the doll’s tiny feet was a dead rabbit.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: Aw dang! That was my next guess, but I figured a rabbit might be a bit too large to handle. *Gets silver star off shelf and puts it with massive gold star collection* Hahahahaha! Well, my own rabbit is safe in her cage, and the thought of her makes me smile.
🤥CP: Its body had been picked clean to the bones, and only the head remained intact. Beady little eyes stared into nothingness. The tip of its tongue hung from the side of its mouth and rested in its own blood on the porch’s wooden floorboards.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: If that had been a coyote kill, there probably would've been nothing left. So we got ourselves a carnivorous furby that needs to be - dealt with. And I've the resources for that. *Wicked grin* Though I would be utterly grossed out at a sight like that, too.
🤥CP: I turned away from the gore and gagged as I slammed the door. After running into the bathroom to lose my breakfast, I called out of work and debated what I could do about the tiny terror. My friends and family would think I was crazy, the police would probably take ME away. I came to the conclusion rather quickly that I was on my own. I grabbed a couple of garbage bags and some cleaning supplies and cleaned up the mess on my porch. The first thing I did was bag up the Furby and put it in the trash can by the curb.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: You forgot to remove its batteries...
🤥CP: The garbage men would take it away the next day, and just the thought of that made me feel better. The rest of my day was quiet, and the horrors of the morning were a distant thought by the time I went to sleep.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: You got over that quicker than I would have. A bloody carcass on my front porch isn't something I could recall without gagging for quite some time. of course, the meat at the grocery store, or butchering animals for food doesn't faze me. But something like roadkill on the other hand, bleah.
🤥CP: I was jolted awake by an ear-piercing shriek. I looked around my darkened bedroom, trying to figure out where the sound came from, when something slammed against the closed door so hard that a picture fell off of the wall next to it. The wailing continued as I grabbed my phone and dialed 911, my hands shaking so badly that I almost dropped the phone as I pressed the numbers. I screamed and cowered in the corner when another slam on the door cracked the wood in the center, threatening to split in half and let the assailant in. Silence filled my home, but the operator stayed on the phone with me until the police came in case whoever was trying to break in was still around. The cops found my doors and windows still closed and locked, and once they came in, their search of the house turned up nothing as well. After taking my statement and telling me to call if anything else happened, they left. Knowing that I wouldn’t be able to sleep any more that night, I went to grab the blanket off of my bed so I could curl up on the couch and watch a movie.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: So do we ever get to find out what the wailing and motions were? Or maybe it was just a dream.
🤥CP: I turned on the light in my bedroom and almost jumped out of my skin. The Furby sat in the middle of my bed. There was barely any fur left on it, and its once-brown eyes were now blood red.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: I knew you should've removed the batteries. The blood red is probably still from the rabbit's blood.
🤥CP: I slammed the door shut as it began howling. It shouted the words “bleed” and “die” over and over as it threw itself against the door, splintering the wood along the crack it had made earlier. I grabbed my keys and ran out of the house.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: That furby needs a good thrashing.
🤥CP: It was the middle of the night, and I had forgotten to grab my phone and wallet, so I decided to drive around until it was a decent enough hour to knock on someone’s door and ask to stay there for a while. Before long I was getting delirious from lack of sleep, and decided to pull over and rest my eyes for a while. It wasn’t until I looked around to make sure I was alone that I realized where I had stopped: right in front of the house of the old lady that sold me the Furby.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: *Sigh and rolling eyes* So predictable.
🤥CP: After arguing with myself for a while, I decided to talk to her in the morning. As I closed my eyes and tried to ignore how uncomfortable it was trying to sleep in the front seat of a car, I thought about how I could get information from her without seeming completely nuts. Before I knew it, I opened my eyes to bright sunlight shining through the windows. I checked my hair in the rear-view mirror, stretched my arms and legs, and then walked up the short sidewalk that led to the house. I opened the screen door and knocked, and was surprised when the inner door swung open a bit. I called out a greeting before pushing the door open a little farther.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: Lemme guess. She's dead inside the house.
🤥CP: When I stuck my head through the doorway, I was assaulted by an awful stench mere seconds before finding the source.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: *Winces and gets gold star off shelf to put with rest of collection* But this actually has nothing to do with the furby since it was back at your house terrorizing you when this death occurred.
🤥CP: The sweet little old lady who had sold me the Furby was lying on her back in the center of the living room floor. The color in her once-brown eyes had paled and glazed over, and her sagging skin had begun to turn gray.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: *Grimace* Ugh! Move it along please!
🤥CP: My entrance had spooked a large orange cat that had been tearing away at the skin on her cheek and mouth, leaving a jagged hole through which I could see her teeth and gums.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: *Horrified disgusted scowl* Ewwwwwwwwwwww!
Okay, first, a pet cat wouldn't do that, and I don't believe that a cat would eat something decomposing. Dogs are known for that. Cats, not so much. But you really got my gross-meter soaring way off the freaking charts! This particular cat is utterly creepy and revolting.
🤥CP: It hissed at me before abandoning its meal and disappearing into the house.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: But it is already in the house. I think you meant disappearing down a hall or into another room. Anyway, I would've gone after that cat with a big stick if it weren't for the decomposition. Yuck! Who knows? I still might have.
🤥CP: The sight and smell drove me back outside, where I retched in the bushes before knocking on a neighbor’s door to ask for help. I spent a few hours there, repeatedly explaining to the police why I was there and how I had found her. I left out the part about being terrorized by an old plaything, and simply said that I wanted to see if she had any toys left over from the yard sale that I could buy. When they finally said I could leave, I got into my car and drove away without yet deciding where I would go.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: Okay. I still had to eat before going to work. Ugh.
🤥CP: I had traveled about a mile before I heard a rustling sound in my back seat.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: Oh, for crying out loud! *Impatient sigh*
🤥CP: It was a good thing that no one was behind me, because when I saw the Furby sitting against the passenger side door, I slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the car in a panic. It began laughing as I paced in the street with my hands pulling at the roots of my hair, but it was no longer the slow giggle. Instead, it was a heinous cackle, deep and clear, with no hint of the nasal child-like voice.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: *Dark glare at furby* You are so ended!
🤥CP: Tears of anger filled my eyes. I was tired of being scared, done with being bullied by something that I could hold in my hands. More than fed up, I decided to end this.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: Great idea.
🤥CP: I got back in the car and drove home, clutching the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white while trying to ignore the laughter and chants of “bleed, die” that came from the back seat. After parking in my driveway, I grabbed the doll by the ear that hadn’t fallen off yet and carried it to the back yard. I threw it in my charcoal grill, doused it with lighter fluid, and threw a match into the basin. I watched as the remaining fur and cloth burned away before the plastic underneath began to melt. The Furby wasn’t laughing anymore. It screamed in agony, its voice getting lower and more distorted as it was reduced to a pile of black plastic goo. When it finally went silent, the flames changed from a bright red-orange to a deep green. Thick, black smoke poured off of the mess as the flames died down, and it all ended with a bang that sounded as if someone shot a gun right next to my ear. In seconds, the fire went out completely and the smoke cleared. Relieved that the whole ordeal seemed to finally be over, I looked into the bottom of the grill to assess the damage.
It was empty.
🧝♀️Ocean Elf: Good. No more disgusting furby. That one met its end without me having to do anything to it. But it has nothing to do with the woman's death, and was probably the source of the shrieking and bumping you heard the night after the rabbit's demise. And you've actually managed to make me want to club that big orange cat. Congrats.
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