And he was such a cute baby.
|I know the expression “living doll” is just a euphemism, but my nephew Jeremy is as close to the real thing as it gets. The last time I saw him in person, he was a normal-looking four-year-old, with excitable blue eyes and deep blond hair (slightly disheveled, as if to say “I'm four, so why should I care what I look like?) .
But last week my sister Jessica sent me a birthday card, with an enclosed family photo (including the dog, the cat, and three goldfish). My niece, Patty, still looked normal except for a food stain on her collar that Jess must have missed. But, oh lord, what have they done to Jeremy? Or, more likely, what has Jeremy done to himself? His hair is now a flaming orange. It looks like he cuts it himself, and it's obvious that no one combs it. He's a living doll, alright, but the doll is Chucky from those slasher films. He's even wearing a pair of overalls.
Jess has a pretty tame sense of humor, but our dad has always been a bit warped. I wonder if he had something to do with this. He's been spending a lot of time with Jess and the kids since mom died, and he's always playing crazy games with them. I'd like to think that the Chucky getup was just a joke, because I can't imagine Jeremy traipsing off to school like that. On the other hand, who am I to complain about a little non-conformity? Mom and dad eventually got over my first tattoo, but I don't think they ever recovered from the nose ring and lip stud.
Oh, no. You don't suppose I've been a bad influence on Jeremy, do you? Well, do you?
NOTE: Written for a Flash Fiction challenge to use the words in bold.