Dear Biff, About Your Haunted Service Station.

service station


Dear Biff;

Re:  Your Sears Automotive Service Station – the Haunting.

A lot of time has passed and I suppose we are proof that restraining orders can be successful if cared for and updated regularly and the two people involved are kept on separate continents.

I am on Facebook now and lots of people post pretty pictures with sayings on them about families and love and forgiveness.

I block them right away.

Lots of other people post mind numbingly stupid stuff and while not specifically about ass wipe brothers, I do tend to think of you when I read that stuff.

Remember your Sears Automotive Service Station?  I know you are still really bitter about the whole incident.  First there was the graffiti in the service station bathrooms, and then the broken windows.  Cars were moved, parked in different spaces from where you left them, tires were slashed and stolen . . . you saw those strange lights moving around inside that one night,  remember?   Then there were all those flies that came out when you opened the garage door and someone had left a dead goat hung up with the rope from your Clue game?  The men who worked there started disappearing one by one, and I know grandma tried to tell you to just use your army guys instead, they were plastic  and the exact same size and you could pretend they were service station dudes and that was really insensitive of her, but as I explained at the time, nobody really liked you in the family and your whiney ways, especially not her.    Remember, you cried and said you couldn’t because  the army guys had rifles and guns and none of the service station guys did?  So I chewed off their guns  but you still were sad?   It was really creepy.  The psychopath responsible was clearly escalating.  Even lecturing the service station attendants about using the buddy system  and  giving them all little tiny whistles  and telling them that they should blow at the first sign of trouble couldn’t save them.  They disappeared one by one until they were all gone.

You sort of lost your innocence that summer.  It is tough being a 12 year old boy and having your illusions shattered, to realize the world had such little respect for a brand name like Sears.   I remember how many times you wet your bed because of the weird noises coming from the garage even though it was deserted and completely abandoned in the back of your closet.  I remember you crying and being so upset … and blaming me.

Mostly I remember you blaming me.

I remember you said that Barbie and her slut girlfriend Midge had done it for me and that you smelled gasoline on their hands and in their hair.  I remember you lighting a match and saying if they were innocent they wouldn’t burn. You insisted on dressing up and looked so lame in those black short pants, White lace shirt with white knee highs, that stupid hat and big belt buckle that matched the buckles on your shoes.  I still hear Barbie and Midge screaming in my nightmares.  Despite months in the barbie  burn unit we were never ever to pull them apart.  Their faces had melded together and Mattel did not make outfits for cojoined twins.  I had to bury them.  It scarred me for life.

They were innocent.  The three of us never conspired to, or had anything to do with, what happened to your Service Station.  I swear we didn’t.  But  I think I know who did.

Raggedy Satan.

She haunted it.

haunted raggedy anne

Have you seen this story?  A possessed Raggedy Anne!   I had a doll just like her.  She looked all innocent and everything just sitting there on the shelf in my room but I am positive she got out at night and clawed you just like the one in the story – except MY Raggedy Anne was stuffed and the Lee Press on Nails that were meant to come with her, clearly got lost in her box when I got her for Christmas.  She was nail-less.  A fact that probably saved your life.  I am pretty sure it was her that was haunting your service station.   She could easily slip in there at night  . . . or direct demons to do it.

You never even suspected Raggedy Anne … she just sat there on my shelf, probably really bitter because I never played with her.  I bet she set it up to make it look like it was Barbie and Midge because she hated that they had hair that could change colours if you dipped it in vinegar solution. I bet she got all hell to conspire against them.  You may not know this about girls, but they hate the thin ones something fierce.  I wrote to ask for a DNA sample from the doll in the picture so that we could be have it tested compared to my doll but they turned me down.  The curators did not want to open the case because . . . they they did not want to die.

demon anne

I talked to a couple of priests about doing an exorcism on my doll but evidently the story of the evil Raggedy Anne doll is legendary.  They refused because  . . . they did not want to die either.  It looks like this doll is pure evil and it would appear that the target was you.  I will bet you she is the one who stole all your easter eggs, broke your radio, wrote on the girls bathroom at school that you were a dildo, put your underwear in your lunchbox, and wore your favourite pair of jeans while wearing my perfume.  I think she is that nasty  I think the doll was sent to destroy you.  And I don’t think she is finished yet.  Her life purpose has not yet been fulfilled.

Good thing I took her with me when I left home or who knows what might have happened to you.

You’re welcome.

So, I am sending Anne home to you where she belongs because . . . I don’t want to die . . .  and because even though she sat in my room I realize now she was never really mine.  I am setting her free to be with you.  It’s a love story.  Except with flies.

You’re welcome, again.

Love Aria.

PS.  I think the Lee Press On Nails really make all the difference.  I sharpened them just a tad so they would be more fashionable.

PSPS.  Rubber Mattress protectors for adult bed wetters are on sale at Sears this week

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