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Song of the Day: Carissa’s Wierd (sic) – Die

July 5, 2011

Yesterday I went to a friend’s house for the 4th and two cousins who were there for the festivities – a boy of four and a girl, five – wanted me to scare them. Okay, I figured, I could do that. Children and I have generally come to a mutual decision to keep our distance. If they wanted to be scared, I would happily comply.

They demanded ten seconds to hide. Generously, I gave them twenty. In pursuit, I trudged through the house, grunting and groaning, a sort of Hunchback of Notre Dame who had been recently disemboweled. Without much warning, my ill-conceived hunchback morphed into a bear, and I found myself pawing at doors.

After a few swipes, I heard them giggling in a bathroom. I rattled the knob and their giggles turned to screams. With each growl and scratch I propelled them into a state of tortured distress. I pretended to move on and waited for them to make their escape.

Sure enough, they took the bait. They stuck their little heads out the door and I had them cornered. There was no way out. But, oddly, they did not run. Instead, they attacked. With me on all fours, they jumped on my back and held on as I staggered through the house. Then with grizzly-like ferocity, I roared up and stood upright. They stuck like burrs as I swung around and around in a perfect bear pirouette. As they howled in delight, I hoped to leave them dizzy and confused. It was, however, a thin line between victory and a trip to the emergency room, so before I could falter and split their heads against the furniture, I gently brought them safely to the ground.

Instantly they demanded that I scare them again.

This time they requested a three minutes head start, which they quickly negotiated down to thirty seconds. It did not matter. In no time I found the two cousins in a bedroom. Frankly, they were not particularly well hidden. Nor, were they scared. The girl growled back at me while the boy assumed a boxer’s stance. Lowering my head, I swatted at him and he jumped on my back, followed by his cousin. I made it to the hallway when the five year-old girl said with matter-of-fact decisiveness, “Let’s Kill Him.” Instantly, she went for my throat, squeezing my windpipe with a chilling authority that said she had killed before. The boy grabbed for my eyeball, digging into my sockets. I pried his hand away, not once but twice. While I seemingly thwarted his desire to blind me, he was not done. He, too, went for my neck. Before it became all too real, I feigned death, but the bloodthirsty urchins were undeterred, clinging to my neck with their little fingers, gleefully and maniacally intoxicated by the prospect of my impending demise.

Carissa’s Wierd – Die MP3

Buy Carissa’s Wierd – They Only Miss You When You’re Gone 1996-2003 here or, preferably, somewhere else. Just buy it.

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