Killer Troll dolls and stuffed animal protectors...

... and you thought she was just
chillin' in the toy box

I don't know if all kids believe that their toys come alive, but I know that at one time during my childhood, I secretly suspected it.

Watching Toy Story 3 as an adult tickled my memory until it uncovered this story of how my sister and I spent many sleepless nights terrified of a toy because we were convinced it was going to come alive and eat us.

Tv certainly had something to do with it.

That fairy-voiced murderess Talking Tina from the Twilight Zone had us thinking twice before we even considered giving our Barbies haircuts.  Nobody wants to piss off a doll who's capable of cold blooded murder.

And remember Chuckie from Child's Play?

Forget about it, after seeing that stuff we were convinced that our dolls had secret lives sneaking around at night sharpening knives on baby kittens for practice.



When we were younger, my sister and I got into collecting these tiny troll dolls. They had bright shocks of hair that stuck straight up and little gremlin faces twisted into bumpy smiles.

Who on earth thought that this would be a great kids toy?

Well Grandma found out and not to be outdone, she found an enormous, toddler-sized Troll doll and sent it to us in the mail.

We got the package, tore open the box and my little sister instantly hated it.

The problem was, that while miniature Troll dolls were ugly-cute, this giant Troll doll was completely vulgar and horrifying for anyone under ten years old.

Being the older sister, I remember wanting to protect us from this Troll doll.

My sister's room had twin beds, and even though sister had her own room, we always slept in the same room because we liked giggling all night into our pillows and instigating our parents.

Thankfully, we had a guard dog on duty. 

Here was my thought process on protecting us from the doll: "Well, if I throw him in the closet, we'll hear the door creak open if this thing decides to come alive and eat us." And so, I'd toss it in there and close the door.

My little sister, anxious not to piss it off, would scream, "Don't throw him in the closet! You'll make him mad!" and then she'd rush to retrieve him from the closet-prison, petting his ugly blue hair saying, "You're pretty."

I guess she thought that if we kept him happy we'd be safe.

Then she'd set him on the dresser (careful to place him in the softly lit area where street lamp light filtered in) and then I'd do my older sister duty and play lookout, monitoring that damn doll for evidence of movement until I couldn't stay awake anymore.

Once I fell asleep, I figured it was up to our other toys to protect us and save us in case the evil Troll doll decided to try anything funny. Luckily, we had a ton of Pound Puppies and if they were anything like my dog Bo, we'd be safe.