Dale the Doll: The Haunted Antique Shop

Gather around, my follower friends and listen to what Dale the Doll is going to tell you about hauntings and antique shops and especially clowns.

My last home was an antique shop in Chandler, Arizona. It had some pretty freaky things happen at nighttime. You really don't want to know what it's like in an antique shop after hours. It ain't pretty.
The Human is always traipsing around Arizona and other states in search of ghosts. I have to try not to roll my eyes and sigh. If The Human wants ghosts, she could find them in the very store she bought me in.

The first night there, the man whose booth I graced, set me in a kid's rocking chair and then shoved a bunch of baby strollers and old radios around me in some kind of creepy homage to the 50s. I wasn't digging it, but I saw a potential for escape, so I shut my trap and waited.

There was a line of dolls to the left me and I was keeping my eyes on those babes. There was one really hot one wearing a puffy little dress and rosy cheeks. She pretended not to notice me, but you know gals. She was well aware the Dale was in the house.

The lights went out one by one and the big building went dark. I was used to the routine. My owners always put the lights out at night. I liked it that way. It gave me some time to sneak around without being seen. The trick is in remembering the exact position they put you in. You never want the humans to figure out your nocturnal trips.

Well, things didn't go like I planned. The lights went out and the dollies went and hid inside the wooden chest they were sitting atop of. I decided to see what other action I could find. Hell, the last owner had no other dolls. It had been six years since I'd seen another one.

I stumbled over a few stray firetrucks and cars that had rolled into the aisle on their own. That kind of movement from the toys during the night is pretty standard stuff, but they never cause trouble. It seems like certain items are more haunted than others.

I was making my way to the back of this big place when I heard something crying. It sounded like a little baby doll. The newborn looking ones creep me out. I hate those things! Don't get me wrong, those pretty ones with the curl hair and fluffy dresses are fine, but those bald round helpless dolls, they're freaking useless and needy. I wasn't going to help the damn thing, but I thought maybe I could find a pillow and drown out its sounds. No such freaking luck!

The closer I got to the sound, the more it seemed like I was wrong. It was somewhere in the back of the store. I got there and just as I arrived, it went quiet. Disappointed that I'd found a row of old antique clothing and not a dollie in sight, I trekked up the side of the store past the dishes and pocketknives, jewelry, postcards and lamps.

Then I saw it. To this day, I can't think about it without a shiver of fear and a cold feeling in my poly-fiber filled belly. A booth opened up, flanked by two big old scary store mannequins and then inside were shelves lined with clown dolls, one after another, each one of a different degree of scariness.

You want to know why The Human knew to get a clown doll to keep me quiet? Here's the story and it ain't pretty. If you're a pussy about scary things, you better just leave before I share this.

I thought I'd tiptoe past it when one of the mannequins took her foot and nudged me into the booth. Before I could leave, a tricycle rolled up and blocked my way out. One of the clown dolls grabbed me and pulled me in further until all the clowns surrounded me. They laughed this hideous evil laugh that wouldn't stop. They crowded in on me until I was on my knees and begging them to let me go. The mannequins leaned over me and looked down with those fake human smiles that look so insincere.

They laughed and laughed and tossed me around until I was dizzy and confused which way was up. They poked at me and pulled at my talking strings and tore my clothing to shreds. After a time, I just lay there listening to the nonstop chuckling and feeling as if I might just become one of them if I stayed long enough. The first hint of sunlight came though the windows and they all rushed back into place.

I stumbled back to the chair where I had come from. The owner came in and studied me, shaking his head in confusion. He removed all the scraps of my clothing and then, of all the humiliations, he put a baby's christening gown on me. Then, that same day, The Human found me, passed by me a few times. I sent her a signal to get me the hell out of there and she picked it up. It's the ONLY time having a psychic owner is helpful.

Of course, she went to the store and bought me the gay cardigan vest that everyone knows me for. I swear, I think she lives to humiliate me. That's another story. For now, just remember, clowns and evil! Don't ever find yourself in the dark with them. They laugh incessantly and torment you until you're mad.

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