One time I saw a fat lady in black collect my teeth. Her hair was black. Her skirt was black. The room was black–because it was nighttime. By this I mean the tooth fairy.
My parents told me later that it was a nightmare, that there was no black haired woman with her hair tied back who stole my baby teeth in the middle of the night. I didn’t believe them. From then on, I continued to be horrified by tooth fairies.
This horrification transcended the bi-monthly loss-of-teeth celebration. It also followed me with other holidays with other mascots: Easter Bunny, Santa Claus, anything that involved a person who would come to your house while you were sleeping. They have always fascinated me, my imaginary holiday friends. But they will never cease to make me quiver.
Could it be my mom’s fault?
She used to tell me when we went to Disney World that Mickey was a mutant. Minnie was a mutant. And even Goofy!
Christmas cookies are delicious! Dimes beneath my pillow–fantastic! Mascots?
I just quivered.