When I was little, I used to dream that this awful, horrible, terrifying finger would somehow make its way under the sheets that I was hiding so desperately under and torment me with it's deformities.
I'll go ahead and blame my parents for forcing me to watch E.T. several times as a child, thinking that one day I would grow out of my fear and see that E.T. is a "cute" movie about an adorable connection between a stupid kid who should have run away screaming, and a non-human being who can communicate with other aliens using common toys and a fork. What the hell?
There is nothing cute about this.
You see, E.T. started it all. But this led me to become afraid of anything that resembles a person, but isn't quite one, or any sort of deformed hand especially. I've manned up a little bit recently, but monkeys remind me a lot of E.T. (their HANDS!) so I generally stay far away from them. And I certainly don't think they're cute.
And now I'm going to have nightmares. Or throw up. Ugh.
And now I'm going to have nightmares. Or throw up. Ugh.
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