It seems like every time I feel like we’ve seen it all something else pops up that’s amazing and weird and 100% worth the long drive. That’s what happened when we drove up to yet another antique store (waiting for the warm weather to open up some outside options.)
We’d been to so many antique stores but this one was settled in the center of an old mill city and was HUUUUGE and clearly not what this space was originally used for. It meandered for what seemed miles with weird nooks, corners, rooms, entire whole floors, and the antiques were absolutely bonkers. SO MUCH WEIRD.
We stopped by this salt and pepper shaker shaped like a monk and a nun and my companion asked, “Why does it look like a pod person whose soul has been sucked out?” I couldn’t hold back the nervous half-triggered laugh of some one whose watched and been scarred by The Dark Crystal.
The day had been full of our fun little games: How Racist is this? You Know What a ____ Looks Like Right? And of course, What the Fuck is That?! My companion has roped in a gaggle of D&Ders to enjoy these games with us, taking photos and sharing them to long distance giggles and bewilderment. Initially what started all this was the fact this place was full to the brim with nightmare fuel.
I have become accustomed to haunted dolls but even I was alarmed to find a set of toddler twins still in their perspective boxes, complete with a menacing grin, more than a little side eye and their own bundle of red balloons looking like twin baby Its. Stephen King would be proud.
The creepy dolls were endless. There were ancient dolls with cracked faces, doll heads in tea cups, and even a cabbage patch doll head – sold separately from its body! I never knew they were sometimes sold by the head.
But there was also a ton of terrifying masks and paper mache creations that’d put the fear of Piñata in you. It was also a day for chasmatic chairs – including a solid mahogany shitter. The label said “throne.” This was near a three foot tall anthropomorphic poodle holding a serving tray, a pancaked pheasant on a wall mount, a candle holder that was actually half a gold horse leaping out of the wall, and painting I could only describe as, “A conversation piece.” To which my companion retorted, “Yeah, if you want every conversation to start with ‘What the fuck is that?!'”
We were in this one mall for hours. I kinda wish I was a picker and knew what I was looking at… or had a house and some money to invest in some more conversation pieces. Someday I’ll have a home of my own, at the end of a dirt road, and half the town’s children will think I’m a witch. Their parents will tell them to stay away from my house after walking into it one day and realizing a huggable baby baphomet sitting above the coat rack was the most normal thing they saw there. I look forward to this. To being “eccentric.”
