Accomodating for presumptious, little, dead, Indian girls


Most children lie awake at night afraid of the boogeyman, monsters or… in some cases, dead Indian girls.

Not me.

I sought to accommodate for dead little Indian girls.

Obviously, I was scared at first… (I wasn’t a complete freak)

I was sitting in school doodling away (and not sticking bluetac in my hair, because I had already learned that such does not make for lasting friendships) and my friend, Claire leaned over.

CHLOE PIC

As I listened intently about the dead girl who occupies half of my (and your) bed at night, my little head was no longer full of rainbows and puppies but now of greedy, presumptuous dead girls with attitude problems and a lack of boundaries.

gfg

At first I was absolutely horrified.

My parents once called me to catch a bird that flew into our house (I was obsessed with animals, and obviously I wanted to pet it cos my brain went, ‘hey, an unaccompanied ANIMAL’), so I scooped the poor bird in my hands and held it for too long and it died.

You can guess what happened.

I understand that I sound like I was a really sadistic child, but I was just stupid and wanted to pet things too much.

My only fault was loving too much.

Anyway, the bird’s death only solidified my fear of dead stuff, which included little dead girls.

However, the more I thought about this issue, I realised that, actually, it was just another fact of life.

Honestly, I wasn’t overly keen on hearing that a large, bearded, invisible, old man (going by the name of God) was able to watch me fighting with my sister, picking my nose and holding the dog by its hind legs. However, I got on with it.

To me, it was no different to how I’d been taught about how Jesus (effectively a dead guy thousands of years old) was EVERYWHERE. Which, technically, must have included my bed.

Anyway, it had become just one of those things.  I shared my bed with a dead Indian girl and that was that.

Later that night as I lay in bed, my Mother came to tuck me in. She gave off about me lying half out of the bed.

“But Mammy! I need to save room for the wee dead Indian girl” came my reasonable explanation.


dead girl

*Awkward pause*

(obviously)

…with a face that said,

‘My child sees dead things. I never thought I’d say this, but where the hell is Bruce Willis when I need him?!’ (Lets be honest… probably out shooting another Die-Hard film).

Untitled

 

“What dead girl?!” Eventually came the concerned, freaked-the-hell-out response.

“The girl! The wee girl who sleeps beside me at night! You too! She sleeps beside you too!” I answered.

 

*Another well-deserved awkward pause*

 

Untitled

“Okkkk. That’s enough. Go to sleep. There’s no such thing”, my Mother replied, getting irritated at the level of shite her child was now talking.

“Yes, there is! Claire told me today. She said she sleeps beside everyone when we go to bed” I said, matter of factly.

“Don’t you think they would be in their own beds?!” She replied, trying to reason with the level of crazy I was at.

A part of me knew she was right… but I lay half out of the bed for months, just to be sure.

Fast forward 15 years, I am no longer as paranormally-accepting, and if that dead girl wants a place to stay, she can have the sofa!

 

 

 

 

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