Librarian by trade, geek by choice, artist by nature.
I’m unsettled by some odd things. For instance, butterflies. Butterflies per se don’t strike terror into my heart, but let’s just say I have a three-foot imaginary bubble of personal space around me, and if a butterfly enters that, I’m, er, not so much comfortable with that. In fact, my earliest nightmare (I was 5) featured me standing in a plastic kiddie pool, terrified as a butterfly with a 5-foot-wingspan zoomed between my legs. (Considering how short I was, this shouldn’t have been possible, but eh, dream logic, right?)
Amusing as my husband and pals find this, what apparently delights them even more is my completely rational fear of sock monkeys. I understand why being afraid of small, pretty, flying bugs is amusing; I have no idea why any human can ignore the obvious evil lurking in sock monkeys. I mean: they are MONKEYS. STUFFED MONKEYS. Made out of SOCKS. That’s weird enough, but the socks they’re made out of–white, heathered brown, bright red–I mean, who wears these socks as ordinary socks? Why do the monkeys always have hats, vacant button-eye expressions, perfectly straight blood-red mouths like serial killer clowns? Who would be nuts enough to ever place that in a kid’s room as if it was an innocuous toy?
It’s particularly unsettling that sock monkeys are having some sort of twisted renaissance. Now there are sock elephants, sock bunnies, sock monkey hats, sock monkey slippers, and worst of all, a life-size sock monkey regularly prowling the city streets with his other oversized toy friends in a Kia. Can you imagine running into that thing out clubbing? *shudders*
…Though I have to admit, the embroidered tatoo is clever.
What’s your weirdest phobia?