"Playing With George"

“Playing With George”

By Cody Williams

 

1.

            “It was just a damn plastic monkey toy for the love of God!” That’s what I’ve been trying to tell myself for years. But I guess I’ve always known that wasn’t true. My name is Cory Little. I’m just a washed up old man who lives alone in that little blue s****y house that seems to be falling down around me at the end of Maple Street.

            I’ve not always been this way. There was a time when I used to have it all. I had everything I needed. A beautiful wife named Tabitha, a wonderful son named Matthew, and beautiful daughter named Brenda. So what happened to them you ask? It was George. That damn monkey toy with the cymbals glued to its hands. I remember the first day I got it.

            Back in my younger days I was President of the Frank Williams Memorial Bank downtown. That day I walked out of the front door of the bank with my brief case in my hand feeling powerful. That’s when I saw it. It was staring back at me in the Opie’s Toys (an antic toy store) window from across the street. I ignored it at first and walked over my parallel-parked car on the side of the street. I opened the driver’s side door and threw my brief case in to the passenger seat. I turned back around to give the monkey another look. The monkey was staring back at me. Now, I know it sounds strange, but it was.

            I shut the door back, looked both ways, and walked across the street over to Opie’s. I stood there from outside the window and stared at the monkey. The monkey was wearing a grin painted on its face that said: “Come at me punk! Make my day!”

I don’t really know why, but I knew I had to get it. I walked inside the store and caught the eye of Opie, the owner, who was standing at the counter.

            Opie had just turned 82 years old. He was a heavier set man and the top of his head was bald while the sides were covered with silver hairs. He was wearing a flannel shirt and a pair of overhauls along with his brown steel-toed work boots. Opie walked over towards me and shook my hand.

            “Hey there Cory!” Opie said to me.

            “Hey Opie.” I replied. I looked over to he shelf in front of the window at the toy monkey that was staring outside at the sidewalk.

            “I see you’ve taken a liking to George.” He said to me. I looked over at him and then looked back at the toy.

            “George?” I asked him. Opie nodded and pointed to it.

            “Yep. That’s his name George. You know, from those Curious George books. I guess that’s where the name came from anyway. It’s written at the bottom of it in Sharpie.” He said. I nodded.

            “How long have you had it?” I asked him. The old man looked up and thought for a moment and then looked back at me.

            “I don’t know. I think somebody sold it to me a couple of days ago. I just got around to putting it out for display today.”

            “Who traded it in?” I asked him. Opie walked back over to the counter to a small white refrigerator and pulled out two glass bottles of Cheer Wine. He walked back over to me and handed me one.

            “I don’t know. I’ve never seen the feller that sold it to me before.” He stated. “But let me tell you, he was a strange feller.” Opie continued.

            “Strange how?” I asked. Opie took a refreshing sip of his soda and then explained.

            “Well, he came in here wearing a long gray trench coat and a brown hat. The collars of the coat were pulled up to cover the sides of his face. When he walked in here, he walked directly over to the counter and said:

            “How much can I get for this?” in a raspy tone. Then he pulled out the monkey and placed it on the counter. His face was scared up and his head bald for the most part but it wasn’t natural. It was like somebody pulled the hair right from his head, as there were still single strands of hair coming out of it. I started to reach over for the toy to take a look at it and he swatted my hand away. “George doesn’t like to be touched!” He said to me. I thought the man was crazy, but you know, I wanted to make the sale. So I gave him $5 dollars for the thing and he left.” Opie said.

            “Well, have you played around with it?” I asked him.

            “Yeah, a little bit. But I haven’t had a lot of time to deal with it.” He told me. I walked over and grabbed it off from the shelf and carried it over to the counter.

            “How much do you want for it?” I asked him.  Opie walked over to the cash register and began to type on it.

            “For you Cory? I’ll let it go for a dollar. Maybe your son will get some joy out of it.” He told me. I smiled and pulled my wallet from my left rear pants pocket and pulled out a dollar bill.

            “I’m sure he will. Thanks Opie.” I said as I handed him over the dollar bill. Opie grabbed it from me and shoved it into the cash register. He placed the monkey into a brown paper bag and handed it over to me. “Thanks!” I told him again.

            “No problem at all. I’m sure your little boy will really enjoy it.” He said to me again as I walked out of the store. I’m still not quite sure why I bought it. Call it a random impulse if you insist. But there was just something about it that I wanted.

 

2.

            When I got home that evening, I grabbed the paper bag with monkey in it and carried it into the house. My wife, Tabitha, was in the kitchen making dinner and Mathew was sitting on the couch watching TV. I walked over to him and handed him the paper bag. He opened it and smiled.

            “Wow! Cool! Thanks dad!” He said as he gave me a hug.

            “You’re welcome buddy.” I said as I patted his head. “Consider it a late birthday present.” I added. Matt had just turned nine years old and he was real into collection retro toys.

After that I put the damn thing out of my mind for a while. But it was later that night when I saw it again. I was laying in the bed when I woke all of a sudden to the sound of the clashing cymbals coming from the hallway. I looked over at my wife whom was still sound asleep. I sat up in bed and reached over to the nightstand and put on my glasses as the sound of the cymbals increased. I looked into the hallway when the toy came marching by. The toy stopped for a moment. It turned it’s head towards me with no assistance what so ever. It glared at me for a moment and then continued on its way. I pushed the covers off of me and got out of the bed.

            I walked over to the bedroom door and looked outside of it to the right where the toy had gone. The toy turned and walked into Matthew’s room and shut the door. I lifted up my glasses and wiped my eyes not really knowing what I had seen. I could clearly hear the door lock after it shut. I walked out of my bedroom, down the hallway, and to Matthew’s door. Then I grabbed the doorknob and tried to turn it but was indeed locked.

            “Matthew! Matt! Open the door!” I shouted out as I knocked on the door. There was no response. “Matt! I’m not kidding! Open the door!” I shouted again as I beat my fist against the door even harder. There was still no answer. “Matt! If you don’t open this door, you’re going to be in real big trouble young man! Do you hear me?” I shouted again. Still there was nothing. My wife came out of the bedroom and turned on the hallway light as she tied her pink robe belt around her waist.

            “What’s going on Cory? Why are you yelling at Matt?” She asked me.

            “The damn door is locked Tabby. I’ve yelled out to him a couple of times and he didn’t answer.” I told her. Tabitha grabbed me and moved over to the side. She slapped the door with the palm of her and shouted out for Matt.

            “Matthew? Honey unlocks the door!” She shouted. Nothing. Tabitha looked over to me and nodded her head towards the door. I backed up against the wall and charged towards the door. The lock on the door broke and the door swung open. My wife and I walked into our son’s bedroom. The light in the hallway was just enough to shine in on Matt’s face. Matt just lay there motionless. I quickly walked over to Matt’s bed and began to shake him but he gave no response. I pulled the cover down only to see a large cut oozing blood along his throat. My wife gasped and covered her mouth. I looked up at the shelf above his bed and there it was. George was standing there grinning at me. Sitting beside him was a bloody opened up pocketknife that I gave Matt for his birthday a couple of weeks ago.

 

3.

            Suicide. That’s what the investigators said it was. But there were many factors that didn’t add up to that. When my wife asked me what I saw I told her the truth. I told her that the reason I woke up in the first place was I heart the clattering of the cymbals as the monkey walked down the hallway and into Matt’s room. I also told her that I bet it was George who locked the door and killed our son. You can’t blame her for acting the way she did. She accepted the alleged suicide as fact and went on with life. But I wasn’t convinced.

            After the corners took my son away, I snuck George into my pocket. I carried him into my office and placed him on my desk to study him. On the back of the monkey was a wind up knob. I turned it of course and placed it back onto my desk to see what would happen. The toy did its typical walk and clap thing and then stopped when the wind up knob ran back down. There was no way that that toy could have walked down the hallway, stop and look at the through my door, and then continue to walk down the hall and into my son’s bedroom. I dismissed the thought of it and scooped it into the wastebasket beside my desk and dumped it outside into the larger trash bin outside.

            That night was the receiving friends portion of the funeral. I put on my plain black suite and accompanied my family to the funeral. When we arrived back home that night, my daughter fell asleep in the car and my wife was tired so she went on to bed. I walked back into my office and turned on the light. There it was. George was sitting on my desk facing the doorway and glaring back at me.

 

4.

            I was at work the next day when I got a phone call from my wife. She was crying and very hysterical. I told her that I would be home right away and I walked out of the bank and got in my car to drive home. As I started the engine, I heard a knock on the driver side window. I looked to my left and saw Opie standing there. He motioned for me to roll down my window and I did.

            “Hey Cory. I heart about Matt and I just wanted to say I’m sorry for you and Tabby. I know what you’re going through. It had been about fifteen years now since my little Billy took his life.” He said to me.

            “Thanks Opie.” I said as I didn’t really want to tell him what I though killed my son.

            “If you need anything at all just let me know.” Opie added.

            “Thanks I will.” I said as Opie stepped to the side and I rolled my window up. I pulled out of the parallel parking spot and started on my way home.

 

5.

            When I pulled into the driveway, there was an ambulance there and several police officers. I quickly got out of my car and ran onto the front porch where Tabitha was sitting on the top step with her face buried in her knees.

            “What’s the matter Tabby? What is it?” I asked her.

            “It’s Brenda.” She uttered. I sat down beside her and rubbed her back.

            “What is it? What about Brenda?” I asked her.

            “She was taking a bath. She asked if she could play with George. She was playing with George when she…” She started. I looked at her strange and stood up. I turned my back to her and darted into the house and to the bathroom.

            “Sir, please leave. I can’t have you interfering with the body.” One of the EMTs said to me as he backed me out of the bathroom. There lying on the floor was the pale lifeless body of my daughter. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub was George. I could hear George’s sadistic laughter as he stood there glaring into my soul.

 

6.

            At that point I knew that I had to get rid of it. I wrapped George up in a roll of plastic wrap and threw him into the back seat of my car. As I drove down the street I could almost se the glowing yellow eyes of George staring back at me. I put the thought of George out of my mind as much as I could and focused on driving.

            I pulled off on the side of the road next to Hampton Lake and threw George out of the window into the lake.

            “Get lost you son of a b***h.” Mumbled to myself as I put my car back into drive and drove away.

 

7.

            When I arrived back to the house that night, I walked onto the front porch and walked inside. Everything was dark. All of the lights were turned off and there was no sign of Tabby anywhere. She was there. I knew she was there because her car was in the driveway.

            “She must be taking a nap.” I thought to myself. I turned to walk down the hallway to the bedroom and I walked in the doorway.

            “Hey honey…” I started before I opened the door to see that she wasn’t in there and bed was neatly made. I looked over the bathroom door. It was closed. I walked over to it and knocked on it.

            “Honey. Are you in there? Did you decide to take a nice warm bath?” I asked her, but she didn’t answer. I reached down and grabbed the doorknob to see if it was locked. It wasn’t. The doorknob turned and the door swung open. Tabby was sitting in the bathtub naked. Her right arm was hanging over the edge dripping blood and I JUST WANT TO PLAY! Was written in her blood on the shower tile beside her. Once again, standing on the edge of the bathtub was none other than George, this time, holding a razor blade in his hands.

            Suicide was once again the reported cause of death. And people for the most part believed it. I mean, I guess it wasn’t a hard conclusion to come to. The woman’s son allegedly killed himself. Her daughter died in an alleged accidental drowning. So she committed suicide because it was too hard to deal with. But I knew better than that. It was George. It was always George.

            That’s how I lived my life. I continue to get rid of it, but it never leaves. George always comes back. I got to go now. I can hear the cymbals from the hallway. George has come back!

Copyright 2014 by Cody Williams
Courtesy of TRUE TERROR PUBLICATIONS
A division of TTP Entertainment

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Author's Note

Thanks for reading. I hope you all enjoy it!

-CW

Reviews

[Sharon Kim]

Creepy! I've never like those kind of monkey toys! Why are they always used in horror stories??!! I have questions!! Did George kill Opie's son too? If Opie is 82, how old was his son 15 years ago? Great job! (Although I'm not sure I like George being the bad guy's name! Not only is it my father's name, but my son's favorite stuffed animal is a Curious George monkey that he calls Georgie! :P)
Nice job, Cody!

[Cody Williams]

Thanks for reading Sharon. No, George did not kill Opie's son. He died in a car accident. Opie's son died when he was well into his fortes.

Now that you mention it, I may return to the story at some point and write a prequel to tell the origin of the toy. I don't know. I guess we'll have to wait and see ;)

Thanks again for reading Sharon!

-CW

[Sharon Kim]

You're welcome and I'd love to read a prequel to this!

[SmittyJas]

I'm not that curious George its written in the news and the facts are on TV Curious George is not quit a mystery he's a playful cartoon personality not and evil puppeteer as you have made him out to be here. Great writings my Friend.

[Cody Williams]

Thanks for reading Smitty!

-CW

[Nia Hope]

I like the possessed toy angle you went with... excellent work just watch for missing words here and there and spelling :)

[Cody Williams]

Thanks for reading Ankara!

-CW

[Nia Hope]

Anytime Cody :)

[NoelHC]

You really need to state that this story was inspired by Stephen King's "The Monkey" it is dangerously close to King's original work.
This one needs a major rework, timeline inconsistencies abound, misused words, misspelled words, etc.
I wonder how dumb the police are in this fictional town. A dead boy is found in bed, his throat slit, and the knife is found on a shelf above the victim. First and foremost suicide by cutting one's own throat is nearly impossible, and if you did succeed, I imagine the last thing to cross their mind would be to put the knife up on a shelf. This stretches my credibility way too far.
And with not one, but three suspicious deaths in a short time in a small house would have most cops slamming Cory's a*s in jail. These cops must have the sleuthing skills of Chief Wiggum in The Simpsons.
Sorry Cody, I am not buying this one, it is not ready to release on the public by about three edit cycles.

[Cody Williams]

"The Monkey" is a story that I've never read by King...but I'll be sure to check it out. Thanks for reading Noel.

-CW

[NoelHC]

Right down to throwing the monkey in a lake! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Monkey

[Dayran]

You've got me curious about the man in the trench coat who sold the monkey to Opie. He must have figured Opie a natural ... to take the monkey away from him. But there's a big difference between a man managing a sales outlet ... and the family man ... in the home.

I don't think monkeys hurt families ... they do the most damage in commercial ... money grabbing areas. The implication is that Cory had it all unfairly ... and justice comes a little later. A curious commentary ...

[Cody Williams]

Thanks for reading Dayran!

-CW

[Lyn Anderson]

Ok who isn't creeped out by those things. Watch your errors, and starting sentences with words like then.

[Cody Williams]

Will do. Thanks for reading KL!

-CW