Did you ever read that Stephen King novel, Christine and then spend the whole rest of your summer vacation being afraid of your sister’s 1975 VW rabbit, Wilbur?! Stupid name, no? But now you must be afraid. Very afraid. Afterall, the possibility exists that beloved cars can come alive. And seek vengeance. You mocked its name. And now you must DIE!!!
Or have you ever completely avoided that underground tunnel on your morning run? The one that takes the running path safely UNDER the highway?? Or do you prefer instead to dodge cars ACROSS the highway, rather than take that tunnel because it reminds you too much of the underground tunnel scene set in the playground that’s guarded by hedge animals in Stephen King’s The Shining. Once you’ve read that scene, you can’t view tunnels the same way again. Ever. Tunnels now contain unspeakable evil. All tunnels. All evil. And if you’re ever lucky enough to run through one safely, don’t look back. DON’T LOOK BACK!!! Because if you do, you’ll get a one-armed wave from whatever evil lives within.
There are so many Stephen King novels that have ruined me for so many things: clowns, St. Bernard dogs, solar eclipses, dirty pillows, posters of Rita Hayworth, sparrows, strawberry pie, baseball cards, handcuffs, the bull Erinyes, dreamcatchers, mice, long-buried alien spacecrafts which leak invisible gas and turn the townspeople on each other. Late last night and the night before, tommyknockers, tommyknockers knocking at my door. Wanna go out, don’t know if I can, cuz I’m so afraid of the TOMMYKNOCKER MAN! No need to go on. You get the gist. But the most important thing to mention here is that you might have a twin in a parallel universe. If you ever have to go on a mission through the Territories to locate a magical crystal, the twin thing becomes a real possibility. I just wanted you to know what was what in case you haven’t read The Talisman by Stephen King.
Over the years, my relationship with Stephen King has become like my relationship with Martha Stewart. It’s love/hate. I hate him and he doesn’t know who I am. Even so, I do find myself forgetting from time to time how his stuff gets in my head and lives there. FOREVER! So once in a while, when my memory stumbles and falls, I pick up one of his books, hoping to give him another chance to play with my sanity.
Case in point? While Hubby was out-of-town on a business trip last week, I started reading Stephen King’s A Good Marriage. It’s about a woman. Whose husband is out-of-town. On a business trip. She discovers a hidden box in the garage.
Now I remember why I am once again done with you and your crazymaking, Stephen. But nice try.