“Baby?” I shouted from the kitchen towards the living room. “Did you forget to buy lactose free milk again?”
No answer.
“Baby,” I continued, pulling the carton from the fridge and sniffing it. “You know I need lactose free milk after what happened at work last month. God forbid, it was embarrassing enough the first time. I don’t want to shit myself again.”
Still no answer. Typical—my girlfriend has a good dose of selective hearing.
I closed the fridge door and walked into the living room. “Please can we get lactose free because they’re calling me Diarrhoea Bob at work …”
I trailed off because the living room was empty. We had been watching the movie Goodfellas when I had got up a minute earlier to check the fridge for some snacks.
“Rose?” I called. “You in the toilet, baby?”
Joe Pesci’s voice blared out of the TV. “I’m funny how, like I’m a clown? I amuse you. I make you laugh?”
I looked at the TV and smiled. I loved that scene. Then out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something on the sofa and turned. It was a barbie doll—smiling at me.
“Ohhhhhhhhhh,” I said loudly. “I get it. Because I didn’t want to watch the Barbie movie you’re playing games now?”
I looked at the creepy doll on the sofa. How the hell were these things considered cute?
Joe Pesci: “I almost had him! I almost had him! You stuttering prick here! Frankie, was he shaking?”
“Rose!” I called, walking towards the stairwell and leaning on the banister. “Rose! Come on. You can come out now, baby, and we can finish the film. I’m sorry I didn’t want to watch the Barbie movie, but I’ve never been a fan of Ryan Reynolds.”
I began to walk up the steps. “He’s just a bad actor. He was awful in La La Land and the Notebook is waaaaaay overrated. Give me DeNiro any day of the week rather than that pretty Canadian.”
It was dark upstairs. Hmmmmm, that was odd. It wasn’t like my girlfriend to hide in the dark. When we first met she had always used a night light, and only after a good old dose of complaining had that stopped.
“Roseeeeey,” I said in a sing song voice. “Where are you hiding, Roseeeey?”
I walked into our bedroom and flicked the light switch on. There was a Ken sitting on our perfectly, OCD made bed.
I laughed and shouted into the doorway. “Ooooohhhh, this just gets better! Ken and barbie! What’s next baby, you going to kill me?”
A giggle came from downstairs.
I laughed. “Ha! There you are! Let’s stop playing around and finish the film. A good film.”
I walked back down into the living room, where I found only the barbie on the sofa—the doll’s head turned like it had been waiting for me to enter.
I shivered as it made eye contact with me and seemed to follow me into the room. I laughed—a little more nervously than before. “Okay Rose … “ I called. “The games over. Time to come out now … You’ll get over not going to see that stupid film.”
Just as I finished the sentence a loud crash came from upstairs.
“Jesus!” I said, jumping. What the fuck was that?
I glanced at the barbie doll … and saw that the head had turned to face me. I took a deep breath. “Okay. I don’t know what’s up with that creepy doll … but can we stop this now?”
I headed back upstairs. A picture of my mother lay in pieces on the carpet. It had fallen off the wall and the frame had broken in two.
“Ohhh no,” I said, stooping down. This had gone beyond a game now my mother’s picture had been broken. As I collected up the shattered frame, the TV downstairs started to increase in volume. “Alright! You Win!” I cried, my temperature rising. “You can stop with all the games now. I’m sorry I didn’t …”
I trailed off as the Goodfellas film started booming around the house, the TV on full blast. You couldn’t hear me stomping down the stairs it was so loud.
Red faced I emerged into the living room. Barbie was sat on top of the TV. Grinning.
I scrambled around for the remote—and swore, just swore, I heard barbie giggling over Joe Pesci whacking some poor sod.
I pressed the power button and the house was plunged into silence. A deep harrowing silence broken only by my loud breathing.
“ROSE! THIS IS NOT FUNNY NOW! CAN YOU COME OUT PLEASE?”
Behind me, barbie began to giggle.
I turned … the doll just looked at me, motionless. I walked up to it and picked it up. “Oh, you think its funny do you?” I said, putting on my Joe Pesci voice. “I’m funny how, like I’m a clown? I amuse you. I make you laugh? I’m here to fuckin’ amuse you?”
The barbie just stared back, blankly. Then, while I was still holding its, its smile seemed to drop into a grimace.
“Jesus Christ!” I said, dropping it and taking a step back. The cursed doll rolled on the carpet and just lay there … but for half a second I had an image of its head turning round like the girl in the exorcist …
Another loud crash sounded upstairs.
“MOTHERFUCKER,” I screamed—now getting the heebie jeebies, the hairs on my neck erect.
As I walked towards the stairs, my foot caught on something—a toy … a Ken of all things, lying there, grinning up at me. I tripped and fell, my head smacking against the coffee table.
I blacked out. When I came round I was tied up on the floor in the living room—and barbie and Ken were both sat on the TV. Watching me. Both grinning.
Ken also had something in his hand … a match. Then I smelt the petrol that had doused the carpet.
“ROSE!” I screamed, sweat dripping down my forehead. “ROSE, BARBIE AND KEN ARE TRYING TO KILL ME.”
Ken did not move, but the match in his hand burst into flames.
I looked at Ken.
Ken looked at me.
Oh shit, I thought. How am I going to get out of this pickle?