Hopefully-Not-Evil Twin

I fear I’ve somehow found myself at the beginning of a Stephen King short story. At least I hope it’s a short story. I really don’t have the patience to see what’ll unfold in the time it takes to get through a novel.

It all seemed so innocuous. A few weekends ago, Kate, Paige, and I ventured out to some yard sales on our street while Mark was on a bike ride. We hit what appeared to be the kid-crap jackpot–a family with some older children was purging some great books, puzzles, and Kate’s favorite thing–dolls. We actually scored three dolls, doll clothes, and even a mini Bjorn-type carrier which caused Kate to nearly weep with joy when she first laid eyes on it. Kate staggered away from that sale with the greedy satisfaction that rich kids in Manhattan have after an FAO Schwartz spree.

We got home and I tossed what was washable into the hamper, then grabbed some Lysol disinfectant wipes to kill whatever Ebola or Junta type viruses might be lingering on the dolls’ hard plastic faces and extremities.

That’s when, standing over the sink, I stared into the face of one of the dolls and recoiled to see none other than my own baby, Paige, looking back at me. I mean, it’s UNCANNY how much this doll looks like Paige. I nearly did one of those Looney Tunes head shakes followed by a close-up peer and squint to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.

I brought the thing over to Paige and held it up next to her. Aside from the doll’s Buddha-like man breasts, the thing is essentially Paige in inanimate plastic form.

Even Kate saw the freaky resemblance, but was nonplussed. As if coming to acquire your baby sister’s doll doppleganger is a perrrrrfectly normal thing to happen on a Saturday morning. Ah the sweet innocence of childhood.

So then. What next? Exactly my question. I mean, something like this doesn’t happen and then the family lives happily ever after, right?

Thus far I’m thrilled to report that it’s been life as usual at Casa McClusky. Though if something would happen I’d at least be relieved of this brutal state of suspense. But I guess that’s why Stephen King is so good at what he does, right?

At any rate, if anything weird goes down around here I can tell you right now, the doll did it.