..:: TOMMY ::..

The cemetery is a cold quiet place which I have grown to love. I have been sitting here for almost five centuries and believe me, there are night that I helplessly feel my inside freeze to ice while my cries for help are ignored. It was my masters wish that I sit here to wait, wait for some bitch to come and pick me up so that his plans for immortality can be fulfilled.

Master was a man of all traits, he was a ventriloquist. “Crazy Joe” was his name and they were usually above theater in big bright neon lights which flickered as people lined up to take their seats. I was his favorite boy, I was his first boy. He named me Tommy, after his little son of a bitch who had died of leukemia at a young age. Master prepped me well. I was always dressed to impress and my red wine silk bowtie stood out like a bright red rose, proud and sexy.

Master had me imported from Pakistan, where he only insisted on the best wood for me. I smelt like the forest. Green and fresh. I shined with such perfection that the other ventriloquists stared in shocked. Master made me just like the other hard headed knee figures, but I was special. I was different. Master loved me so much that I was his little babe. I had the best cotton suit which was tailored to fit only me, and this made the other dummies jealous because they all shared clothing. I was the root of masters’ heart. Hard and sturdy. The rest were shit and made of paper mache or plastic. I was the only authentic boy that master ever made.

“Ssssh…don’t speak. Let me do all the talking” he would whisper just before the bright spotlights hit me and the rise of roaring cheers and applause fills the theater. I was a good boy, I was obedient. Master would stick his hand under my ass and move my face just as though I was a little boy. It tickled me, but I tried my best not to laugh. He had an audience and the best was all he ever given them.

One day, his name was taken down and replaced by a few names of people who were in a movie. Master lost his audience as they moved on to JJ musicals. We were broke. Master had to sell some of the other to feed himself. He got sick eventually and had something inside of him, a tumor. As he slowly faded before my eyes, I watched him plan his resurrection. He was determined to show the world that what he had was better than just songs and dance routines. He wanted revenge. His last days were filled with books of spells and magic.

SOUL TRANSPORTING, BE IMMORTAL.

“We’ll see who the real dummy is now” he uttered as his days were slowly outnumbered.