I have owned numerous items that have, for lack of a better expression, been possessed (as have you). All of us at some point in time have a possession that seems like hell spawned it and somehow we won it at the loser’s auction. You know the item: the car from hell that keeps breaking down, the washer that eats your clothes, the stove that constantly burns things, the hair dryer that sets you on fire, etc. Don’t be shy about confronting this problem, apparently it’s quite common.
I think the strangest possessed article I’ve ever owned was the refrigerator in my apartment in Fremont. It wasn’t just a fridge; it was the gateway to another dimension. I used to call it the re-freezer-rotter, because this thing didn’t preserve food so much as commit inexplicable and heinous crimes with it. I once found a head of lettuce in this refrigerator that was completely fresh in one portion, frozen on another and the final section was slimy and rotten. Things would either freeze or rot, but there seemed to be no happy medium, like, preservation. The strangest incident was the inter-dimensional mustard incident. No kidding, one day a bottle of mustard showed up in the fridge. Nobody had copped to buying that mustard to this day. None of us know where it came from or why it was there. I’ve done some strange things over the years, many of which were alcohol related, but I have never purchased a bottle of generic yellow mustard and left it in the fridge for somebody else to find. There has never been a rational explanation for this mustard to this day. I threw it out when I moved.
When I tried to get the fridge repaired, nobody could tell me what was wrong with it. People claimed I was making this up. I’m not making this up. Finally the crappy commute from Fremont on the California freeways and the obnoxious neighbors got to me and I moved out. Thankfully the law required me to leave the fridge behind. I was happy about that, because I feared what it would do next.
I feared it would come to this. Thank God for month-to-month leases.
Possessed items are no new phenomenon. Cursed items have been around for centuries. However, it takes the ingenuity of the modern era along with Ebay to properly exploit possessed items. There are currently 364,000 entries on Google for possessed appliances, and about 8,000 “haunted” items for sale on Ebay. Go ahead, look it up. Purchase something if you like. I’m leaving that shit alone. Besides, I’m just up to my armpits in possessed items in this house. Take a look at this:
This is definitely going to save my life in the event of a fire.
What you’re seeing is the remains of my smoke detector. I dismantled it myself. (Safety first!) You see, the damn thing kept beeping at random all hours of the day and night. There was no pattern to the beeping, no triggers, and no obvious reason why it would just start beeping in the middle of the night. I changed the battery, I vacuumed it, I unplugged it and plugged it back in. The damn thing just kept on beeping at random every two or three minutes. I called the landlord, who told me that it was fine and I was making the whole thing up. (No, silly, of course he didn’t actually come and look at it. Why would he do that?) Finally I yanked it out of the ceiling, removed the main wires and put it in the closet. THE GODDAMN THING KEPT BEEPING. You heard me right, it never stops beeping. I swear it’s possessed. Once again, my landlord is indifferent to my need for an exorcist or a different smoke detector at the very least.
It's Daylight Savings Time. I need a young priest and an old priest...
I’m sure there’s some sort of cottage industry for possessed appliance repair. Those damn things are just like children; they never act up when anybody else is watching. This can’t be a coincidence. There’s no explanation for this kind of behavior from an inanimate object. Well, I can’t exactly say there’s no explanation.
We all knew it was going to come down to this.
Yeah, I had that suspicion to. They’re out to get us. Hopefully we can get to them first before we have to arm ourselves and plant land mines. In the mean time, you need to look around your house and ask yourself (and answer honestly), “Where did all those condiments come from?” If you can’t answer, you know it’s time to call the priest.