The Devil in Red Fur

Terrifying.

When I was a kid, I had a reoccurring nightmare that freaked the hell out of me.

It takes place in Fraggle Rock (I'm serious), and there's this levitating, demonic specter that somewhat resembles the Grim Reaper from Terry Gilliam's The Adventures of Baron Munchhausen.  Anyway, this horrible being is flying around Fraggle Rock, strangling Fraggles and scaring the bejesus out of everyone.

At one point in time, the Storyteller Fraggle is brutally murdered - strangled - right before my eyes.

Almost as scary as Fraggles.

Eventually, I find myself trapped at the end of a long, rocky corridor - deep within the bowels of Fraggle Rock, where I'm finally cornered by this Grim Reaper-ish guy.  He's at the opposite end of this rocky 'hallway,' so to speak, and begins to fly towards me.


But the scariest thing about this onslaught isn't that the guy's flying at me to kill me (even though that is scary, don't get me wrong).  No, it's the pace and - more notably - the inevitability of his attack.  He's flying down this hall, screaching and flailing his arms around, but I'm frozen in place and can only watch in horror as he SLOWLY draws closer.

It's a long, horrifying build-up.  And when he finally reaches me, I wake up.

Someone needs to make a movie about this.  So I can not watch it.

Anyway, the reason I'm talking about spooky-ass nightmares, is that our two-year old, Abby, is beginning to have nightmares herself.  And not just little 'there are monsters in my closet' sort of nightmares, either.  No, these are 'wake up every hour and half screeching at the top of one's lungs', full-fledged, staring wide-eyed into blank space, sleep-walking night terrors.

They're a blast.

Day or night, in her bed, our bed, whatever - the night terrors have been in full-force this weekend.  At first, we chalked it up to Alayna watching Alvin and the Chipmunks Meet the Wolfman on Netflix (yeah. . . it exists) with Abby in the room.  I mean, the show's ridiculous - and far from terrifying (I won't bore you with a plot summary) -but hey. . . little kids are pretty retarded.

Anyway, Abby was once again able to showcase her cowardice this weekend when we took the girls down to Sea World (yes, we live there now) after church.  Every Halloween, Sea World hosts a 'Spooktacular,' which is billed as being a 'not-scary' affair.  We haven't taken the kids out since Alayna was about four months old, so we figured we'd try it out again.

We had no intention about doing the usual 'hey kids, let's stare at dolphins' bit - instead we wanted to check out the Sesame Street stage show 'The Count's Halloween Spooktacular.'  Sure, it says its the Count's spotlight - I mean, he is the most Halloween-ish of the 'Street, right? - but let's be realistic, here:  it's still Elmo's World.

* * * Note:  Now, here's where I could divulge into a huge tirade and groan dramatically about how that red, furry little bastard ruined Sesame Street and brought about the end of the children's television as we know it. . . but I won't.  I mean, I'm sure I will later, but we should probably just move this along. . . * * *

Waiting for the Sesame Street show to start, checking out some crabs. . .

. . . and fish.

Girls in a glass box.

Waiting for the show to begin. . .

The stage looks like Tim Burton and Hemmingway had a baby together.  On acid.

I'm not sure the show has a 'plot,' per se. . . something about The Count, and teaching the other 'Street' Muppets about Halloween.  Pretty 'meh' if you ask me.  Straight-up crack for pre-schoolers, though.

Familiar faces.

From Left to Right: Random Muppet, the MC, the Product of a Marketing Team, and Satan

Shit gets creepy. . .

Abby lasted about 10 minutes into the hour-long show.  Alayna, about 20.  As it turns out, dim lights and six-foot versions of something they see on television practically every day equates to pure, bone-chilling terror.

. . . so, funned out with Sea World after a hefty hour and ten minutes, we decided to head home.

(Kris loves Sea World.)

- Brian