I grew up with the book Some Things are Scary, written by Florence Parry Heide and illustrated by Jules Feiffer.
Each page features a potentially terrifying scenario for young kids — “Getting hugged by someone you don’t like,” “Holding on to someone’s hand that’s not your mother’s when you thought it was,” “Stepping on something squishy when you’re in your bare feet” — and a picture of children suffering the throes of that terror.
It’s easy to believe that the world is a scarier place than it was when the book came out in 1969, but many things haven’t changed. Monsters still lurk under our beds and slugs still move across our lawns at night, lying in wait for our bare feet. And grown-ups still push us too high on the swing-set, especially when they’re doping.
So, in this of all seasons, what scares you? Clowns? Close talkers? Raw chicken? Foreign despots? The check-out line at the Super Wal-Mart? Multidrug resistant Staph?
Let us know, or we’ll hug you.
— Kent Priestley, staff reporter
Being stuck in an elevator with former “Showtime at the Apollo” host Steve Harvey.
Oh, thanks. There’s an image that will haunt me for days.
Using public restrooms always bothers me.
Hippies
Pandemic flu viruses, being buried alive, car accidents, and my high school history teacher.
Tornados.
Having to “ghostride the whip” to the satisfaction of any number of hair-gelled cruisers at the Patton Ave. Kmart parking lot, lest my life be forfeit. The very idea gives me the cold sweats.
Overly smug writers.
Ouch! Am I supposed to say the “rubber/glue” rhyme now?
Who said I was talking about you?
Bugg: C’mon, dude! I’m plenty smug.
Also scary: Deadlines for stories you never wanted to write in the first place; spelling bees; actual bees; and the coffee at Denny’s.
Until last night, nothing.
After last night, I’m now afraid of guys in wheelchairs rolling into my store yelling “Hallelujah!” and babbling disjointed quotes from Proverbs.
marc
Success.
Being finger pointed at by a green activist.
Never factually happened to me, though I feel somewhat of a PTSD since that night I dreamt about it and woke up soaked in my own sweat… They fiercely chased me dressed in hippy fashion and wanted to make compost out of me.
Marc,
sorry about that, it had been a long week.
Itchy sweaters.
Anything starring the Wayans Brothers.
not getting pregnant
again
Hillary Clinton and her socialist agenda.
Expressing anal sacs: http://www.mountainx.com/ae/2007/critter_love_dont_try_this_at_home
Steve, are you saying your fear factor includes the word “anal”? :)