Devil Puppets

The poor, twisted remains of the unfortunate creature lay just to the side of the Mexican orange bush. Children from all around the neighborhood gathered on the lawn to see the body, which was a tangled mess of limbs and hair.
“Try poking him with a stick,” One suggested. A long, thin stick from the sapling next to them was produced and the poking ensued. The figure didn’t move and everyone was sure that it was dead.
“Let’s just get rid of it, it smells funny,” The eldest in the group commented. Four or five of the children grabbed the body by its hairless legs and began dragging it across the lawn toward a dumpster. As they approached the large, dark green container the body was hoisted up and dropped back down, into a coffin filled with rotten banana’s and various other discarded items. The lid was closed and the children left to play tag.
Where am I? He wondered from within his tomb. He was unable to move or even open his eyes but was still able to smell the thick scent of the food that was cooking from the heat of the old metal dumpster in the summer sun. As the heat got too much for him to take, he slowly drifted back in time to remember how it all happened…
Running home with the plastic Target handle twisting in his small hand the boy’s heart was full of excitement. It was always fun to have a new toy, when you’ve no friends or family to care about there’s nothing else to make your life seem worth living. Today was one of the exciting occasions, he had been saving up his lunch money for months and was finally about to reap the benefits!
He raced across an old, dying lawn with the dry summer grass crunching under his torn sandals. Skipping past the ever-present Mexican orange bush, the child pulled open the screen door and hopped into his small, run-down, suburban home. His head full of anticipation, he began running toward the stairs.
“Get those damned shoe’s off!” His father’s voice thundered just before the sandals had a chance to set foot on the worn charcoal carpeting. The child never really did understand why he couldn’t wear shoes in the house; the carpet was full of holes and stains anyway. There were even nails sticking out of the floorboards in many places that made it a hazard to walk around barefoot. The sandals were removed and tossed into a pile of shoes, however, and he was once again on his way up the steps, bag in hand.
Without even looking, the boy made a sharp left into his small room at the top of the steps. It was cluttered with old cardboard boxes, candy wrappers, and had a slight scent of urine, there were no shades and dust ran rampant. He flipped on the light switch that hid just behind his dresser and kicked a large box across the room to give himself space. Grabbing the bottom of the Target bag and flipping it over, the box fell onto the ground with a thump.
“Devil Puppet,” The child whispered to himself as his tiny fingers caressed the blood red letters across the heading of the box. The words seemed to drip down toward the shining plastic that encased the puppet. It was small, no more than 8” tall, and made completely of yarn. Its limbs consisted of red balls linked together and a small white fist at the end. The head was a puff of red with excess yarn extending in all directions like a crimson sun.
There was something that was a bit off about the puppet, almost eerie about its wide grin. Whatever it was, it was not enough to stop the child from tearing through the puppet’s prison like a lion. Filled with a new sense of security and self esteem, the delicate hands clutched the wooden handle of the marionette as he raced out of his room and down the stairs toward his father.
“Hey dad, look what I got!” The young boy exclaimed. His voice was filled with joy as he held his prize up for his father to see.
“That’s nice, what is it?” Father wasn’t pleased, his large, hairy frame shifted in annoyance on the couch as his sipped his beer and tried to find a way to watch the game without his son getting in the way.
“It’s a new toy, see?” The puppet was pushed into his father’s face, the red, yarn limbs hanging down and brushing against his skin. The dad squinted in a vain attempt to see through but all he could make out was the stupid, grinning face of the puppet as it danced around his head.
“Look, just get that damned thing out of here! I am trying to drink my beer and watch sport’s for Christ’s sake!” The child shrunk, clutching the puppet against himself and racing out of the room. “The Bears are losing again, UGH!” The beer bottle was sent flying across the room and into the wall with a smash, its remains joined numerous other bottles on the floor.
In his room, the child was spinning the puppet back and forth in the air. The small red body danced in the light, an evil grin spread across its face from ear to ear.
“I don’t have many friends,” Squeaked the boy, “maybe we could be friends? We’d never get lonely and could play together all day long. This way, I’ll never get in daddy’s way and maybe he won’t hit me as often.”
“Your dad’s pretty mean, huh?” Odd, the voice had come from the puppet. It was a deep, thick voice of authority. The child’s eyes were wide with wonder and fear, it wasn’t often that his toys talked back to him but he figured he’d respond just the same.
“Maybe, sometimes, my mom say’s it’s on accounta he drinks too much but I drink plenty of water and juice and I’m just fine.”
“Well,” the puppet began, “I know a way that you can be free of your dad and his insolent behavior forever!”
“What’s that?” The innocent child’s voice was full of wonder and excitement.
“Jump off the roof!”
“Whaddaya mean?” A pinch of fear could be detected in him now for he was not allowed on the roof.
“Well, you see, if you jump off the roof then you can spend all of eternity with me in Hell! That is, until you slowly melted away into nothingness… So, is that a great idea or what?”
“Well sure, if it’s true.” What a fantastic sales pitch! This puppet was a master at the art of manipulation, the boy’s hands were tied, how else was he supposed to respond?
And with that, the puppet led the child to the window which he unlatched and pointed to, “I’m too small and made of yarn to lift it, you’re going to have to do it for us.”
The boy nodded, how could he resist? He skipped to the window and pulled it open; the gate-way to eternal happiness! The puppet and child walked yarn-in-hand to the ledge and looked down at the Mexican orange bush. The puppet motioned to the bush and shook his head; then he pointed to the concrete right next to it and nodded.
As the boy approached the gutter, he could see other kids down the street playing some form of tag. He watched them for some time, longing to be a part of the pack and wishing he could just go over there and play with them. The trouble was, he didn’t even understand tag; how did it even work? It was a mystery, a fantastic mystery, as was the rest of childhood. How could he go on with jumping off of this roof and ending his own existence when he’d never even been a child himself?
Glancing back to the ground, the boy felt a warm feeling growing inside of him. He looked back to the puppet that just smiled back and walked beside him at the gutter and motioned for him to take flight. The child was ready to go be a part of the world, “I’m not gonna jump! I wanna make some real friends!” And with that, he turn around swiftly only to slip on some gutter gunk and be sent sliding into the air. He landed on the gutter neck first and did an awkward backward summersault off of the roof. Thudding right beside the Mexican Orange bush, the child could hear the kids playing tag in the distance.