I came home one day to an empty house. I walked into my room, set something on my desk, then I saw it out of the corner of my eye. I spun around and walked right back out of my room. I was sure my sister had done it. Positive she did. But that didn’t change the fact that there was a ventriloquist doll on my bed. I told myself that this was real life and it was nothing to be afraid of. So, I marched into my room picked it up and stuck my hand up its back to move its mouth. I couldn’t. I looked it up and down to try to figure out what the mechanism was that would make it move. I couldn’t figure it out. Then I did. I couldn’t move his mouth. Only he can move his mouth. I put him back down and stayed out of my room.
When my sister got home, she was giddy to see what I thought of my Valentine’s “gift”.
“Very funny. Where’d you get it?”
“A yard sale.” As everyone knows, this is the absolute last place you want a gifted ventriloquist doll to be from. She was practically cackling with delight at my discomfort.
It was a gift from my sister, so I kept it. It was harmless. Probably. But, to be sure, I kept it on the top of my bookshelf. That way, I would hear it if it ever decided to make its move.
It caught the eye of a visiting horror fan. He usually relaxed body tensed up as he recoiled and shouted, “GET RID OF IT!” At that point, I realized why take any chances? I gave it to a friend. Coincidently, we fell out of contact. I’m sure the doll had nothing to do with it.
Post Script: I wanted to include a picture of this doll. I was sure this was some sort of mass-produced beginner’s doll and I would be able to find an image. I can not.