Two years ago, when I was trying to be friends with Christina again (I know, which time, right?) she came to visit and brought this mildly deformed doll that her sister found in a box of normal dolls she bought from the thrift shop and told Christina, “I don’t want this in my house. Give it to Erin.” Because people know me. You may remember Fetus Doll from this photo shoot a few years ago.
Anyway, Christina and I quit each other for the 87th time last year, but Fetus still hangs out in the family room with us, propped up on the chaise lounge thingie next to some weird jester thing and Alf. The fact that I didn’t melt him down into a barbed dildo and sent him back to Christina with 18 pages of death threats says a lot about how mature I am now. And also illustrates that I just don’t really care enough anymore.
Last Saturday, Chooch and Harland, long-since over their Storm Trooper feud, had a play date. We let Kara and Theo come over too. Kara and I were sitting on the couch talking and Kara, drifting asleep on the heels of another one of my horribly-relayed stories (that’s why I have a blog, ’cause I don’t speak good, you guyses), happened to glance over in the direction of the chair.
“What the fuck is that?!” she cried. I mean, god only knows in this house. But it ended up being Fetus. Needing a better look, she walked over and picked it up, much to the delight of Theo:
Preeeeety sure that Theo and I are going to get along just fine.
Theo started crying later, which I’m positive is directly correlated with Henry’s return home.
Marcy, having flashbacks of another certain screaming half-person in her house.
So Henry tried to be all “goo goo ga ga” with Theo and Chooch started laughing hysterically. I mean, this was SHUT THE DOOR levels of hilarity for Chooch, and he cried out in a voice strangulated by laughter, “You’re the worst baby entertainer ever!” By this point, Chooch had gotten himself so worked up that his face was beet red from laughing and he was legitimately crying. It was funny/scary because I saw so much of my own bipolarity in him at that moment, and Kara took that as her cue to start bundling her kids up so they could leave before Chooch laughed himself sick.
Later that evening, Kristy came over with carefully selected beer for my picky palate (Lancaster Brewing Strawberry Wheat, FTW!), and somewhere in between accidentally teaching Chooch the word “onomonapeia” and repeatedly chucking Henry with barbs about THE SERVICE, Kristy too noticed Fetus.
Fetus just wants to be loved.
Watching TV with his big brother, Chooch.
Maybe I should let people come to my house more often. Fetus really flourishes around company.