Chooch’s Lost Boys figurines arrived yesterday and I feared he was going to start whipping me with chains because I wasn’t opening the box fast enough. I could almost hear the harcore collectors worldwide, wailing in unison as I cut open each figurine’s package. Then we had to have a long talk about how these aren’t really toys, they’re very special collector’s items, so please don’t rub them in cat poop or let your father caress his asshole with them. Both David and Michael came with their own little backdrops and various props, including interchangeable heads and feet in case we decide that the vamped out look is growing older than celebrities wearing Uggs in summer.
Chooch and I shared some tender moments yesterday, renacting scenes. Chooch used Michael to push down David and yelled, "Just you! Just you!" and then I picked up David and said, "Maggots, Michael" and together we embroiled them in mid-air vampire battles. I just wish there was a Star figurine, so I could reenact the sex scene with Michael, only with way more smut, some clown paint, and maybe even that gigantor zucchini Kim gave me.
Then while Chooch was napping, another package arrived. This one was full of crocheted eyeballs and a cute little zombie made by my awesome friend Sarah, purveyor of the coolest shit you’ve ever seen yarn turned into, such as bacon and eggs. I tucked the largest of the eyeballs next to Chooch while he was napping. When he woke up, he immediately started exclaiming, "Eyeball!! Eyeball!! Oh, eyeball!!" and when I walked into his room, he was standing up and holding it out proudly, like he was presenting me with a bag of golden ballsacks.
At work, I was telling Collin about Chooch’s big mail day. We talked a little about Chooch’s un-toddler-like, road-to-Goth interests, which prompted Collin to jokingly suggest, "You might as well just start painting his nails black."
I laughed, considering this. "Well, they’re pink right now."