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| Ghost Doll by Le Tron ~ "Toys With A Twist!" |
The relentless sound of Madame Le Tron’s alarm clock
screeched into the cold, black night, cutting through her sleep-drenched state
like a finely sharpened bowie knife…
(Okay, a little dramatic
license here, Dear Reader. After all, it is… )
Friday
the
13th!
~ Maniacal laughter is heard
in the background as organ music swells. ~
“Mon Dieu!” gasped Madame Le Tron, as she woke with a
start. “Quelle heure est-il?”
Removing her nightshades and regarding her clock --
“12:01am…12:01am…12:01am”
blinked in an annoying rhythm to the screeching alarm.
Madame grabbed the little clock and
hurled it into the dark night that surrounded her. It landed upon some
unexpecting surface and shattered into a million tiny pieces.
“C’est tout!” she whispered under her breath, as she
replaced her nightshades and snuggled down under the covers of her bed.
Within seconds it began, slowly at first, as if still
some distance away, and then louder and more distinct, “Tap…Tap…Tap…Tap…Tap.”
The sound was a steady sound, evenly paced with a just a
hint of reverberation, “Tap…Tap…Tap…Tap…Tap.” It was coming closer now. A bit louder, too, and somehow, all of a
sudden, menacing and foreboding.
“Tap…Tap…Tap…Tap…Tap.”
‘What in the world is that?’ thought Madame Le Tron, as
she slowly began to unearth herself from her nest.
A terrifying scream filled the room, and before Madame
could register what was happening, she realized that the scream was being torn
from her very own throat.
The tapping was thunderous now, no longer an even-paced toe-tap,
but an angry shuffle-step, unbearable, even as Madame clasped her down pillow tightly
around her ears.
The brightness of the room hit her like a wall, as she
once again removed her nightshades. She
searched frantically with shaking hands upon her nightstand for her dark
glasses, toppling her water glass and sending it crashing to the floor. Shards of broken glass exploded everywhere.
She made a mental note in reference to the same.
Madame Le Tron’s boudoir was bathed in an eerie half-light
reminiscent of the glow that filled a darkened room when an old-fashioned black
and white horror film was on the TV. But
this light was floating in mid-air.
Upon closer inspection the eerie grey-white light was
apparently emanating from Madame’s Mac Book Air, and it was the Mac Book Air
that seemed to be afloat. ‘Ironic,’
mused Madame Le Tron. And, in no longer
than it took for Madame to register the irony of the situation, everything
began to move in slow motion, or so it seemed to her.
The Mac Book approached her, as if in a dream, and as it
did, the screen began to populate with images from her ETSY Shop. Only they weren’t images that she had placed
there; they were different, “Darker,”
haunting even.
The banner for the shop on which she had worked so hard
was gone, and in its place was a scene from a nightmare, a nightmare she
recognized as her own. And the items she had put up for sale were gone and
replaced by… “Gg, Gg,
Gg…GHOSTS!!!!!!!!!” she screamed out loud.
Meanwhile, on the Campus of Giselle, Madame Le Tron’s teenage assistant…
"Can’t you go any faster, Mike?” shouted Giselle from
the back of the motor scooter.
The robot just shook his head and kept on driving.
‘C’mon,’ Giselle thought to herself. ‘What am I thinking? I
am on the back of a motor scooter for-crying-out-loud, which is being driven by
a crazed recycle-tron, on my way to answer a text from Madame Le Tron
suggesting that she is in the midst of a haunting, surrounded by broken glass,
afraid to move, and I want to get there faster? It is 12:45 on the morning of Friday the Thirteenth.
This does not bode well.’
Just as she was going over the details of her situation,
Giselle could see her house rising up from the mist and Madame’s boudoir aglow
on the very top floor.
Managing Mike gunned the motor scooter one last time, pulled
into the drive beyond the old iron-gate, and skidded to an abrupt halt.
‘Home,’ thought Giselle. ‘I have been at college for less
than one month, and chaos has taken over, as I knew it would. Madame needs me,
as I knew she would.’ A small smile crossed Giselle's pretty little lips as the
warmth of family filled her heart.
Managing Mike was off the scooter in no time and taking the
porch stairs two at a time. Giselle was
right behind him.
Every recyc-letron was up and about, whirring and spinning
around in the dark.
“Mike, what’s with the lights?” asked Giselle.
“Not
Operable.”
...printed across the computer screen imbedded in his chest.
“But the lights were on in Madame’s boudoir. I saw them myself
as we approached the house.”
Ghoulish Gordon glowed from the top of the second floor
stairs, lighting the way for Giselle to approach.
“Ghoulish, what on earth is going on here? I received Madame’s text about a haunting and
her being covered in broken glass? I
know that the boudoir is off limits to all.
I did warn her when I left that perhaps she should re-think the rules
and at least give you or Mike here a key.
I know campus is close and that I am only 15 minutes away, but in
circumstances like these…”
Ghoulish began to buzz and whir, his robotic arms flailing
about in the air.
“Settle down, Ghoulish,” intoned Giselle in the most patient
voice she could muster. “I am not suggesting that these circumstances have
anything to do with you or that they are normal to say the least.” Giselle
continued thinking to herself, ‘nothing where Le Tron was concerned could be
considered in any way, shape or form normal.’
Giselle rounded the railing to a second flight of
stairs. This flight was lit by what appeared
to be a statue of a robot, as still as stone, a white light emanating from his
imbedded computer screen. It was Romantic Dan.
“Buzz..buzz..beep, beep…ping,” Managing Mike said with a shake of his head.
“No need to explain,” replied Giselle. “Let me guess. Dan got all caught up in the moment. Tears of fear filled his eyes, and he began
to rust, which brought on more tears and he seized up. Qui?”
Managing Mike just nodded his head, as he rolled his
eyebolts upward.
Giselle giggled and thought to herself, ‘Somethings never change.’
The third floor at last!
A gray half-light emanated from beneath Madame Le Tron’s boudoir’s door,
illuminating what appeared in the hallway before them to be a ghostlike shape,
bound with ropes and making an eerie subsonic sound.
Giselle gasped and whispered in panic to Mike, “ Now that
does need an explanation! Mon Dieu, what on earth is that thing?”
Managing Mike bent down and with robotic efficiency
unearthed the bundle exposing Malfunctioning Morton. Mort’s’ wrench-like arms were duck-taped to
his sides.
Giselle held up her pretty hand and, with a sigh of relief,
guessed, “Don’t tell me. A preventive
measure to keep Morton from trying to save-the-day by breaking down Madame’s
bedroom door?”
Managing Mike raised his right wrench-like hand in a
“High-five,” which Giselle triumphantly returned, as she passed by on her way
to unlock Madame’s door.
The air around the door was frigid. Giselle reached tentatively toward the old
glass doorknob, its familiar brass key gripped tightly in her hand, when
suddenly --
Seemingly out of nowhere, Joe exploded onto the scene, a
vacuum pack strapped to his broad back.
The recycle-tron blew past Giselle, grabbing the small brass skeleton
key from her hand.
Good ole Joe. This robot had been Giselle’s nursemaid,
protector, and friend for as long as she could remember. Joe was the one that carried her, like a sack
of potatoes, off to bed at night when she would fall asleep in the Library, a
favorite book still in her hand.
Joe was the one that taught her how to ride a bike, bait a
fishing-line, and set the perfect tea table, complete with the most intricate
finger foods.
Joe was also the one who drove her to college less than a
month ago and helped set up her dorm room when Madame Le Tron, overcome with
emotion, had to take her leave. (Three other recyle-trons had offered to help,
but had rusted with tears before even filling the trunk of the car.) This was her family whom she loved and loved
her.
A large blast of artic air brought her back to her senses.
“Madame!” she cried. “Where are you?”
And with that, silence.
The scene before her opened in slow motion. A crystalline
frost seemed to blanket the entire room, a winter scene, truly beautiful and
surreal.
As she began to enter, Managing Mike gently barred her way
with his wrench–like hand.
“Wait!”
…printed across the computer screen embedded in his robotic
chest.
Giselle peered over Mike’s metallic shoulder. In the center
of the boudoir, Madame sat akimbo, bathed in a soft gray half-light that
emanated from her Mac Book Air. To
Giselle’s amazement, the computer seemed to be afloat. ‘That’s ironic,’ mused
Giselle.
Joe moved quickly to the task at hand, taking the vacuum
pack from his back in one swift move, attaching a hose, and getting to work.
The recyle-tron began to vacuum the crystalline frost from everywhere.
Giselle recalled the text she had received from Madame Le
Tron less than an hour ago: “surrounded by broken glass…in the midst of being
haunted….”
Managing Mike’s wrench-like arm began to lower as the sound
of the vacuum came to a halt.
Giselle proceeded cautiously into the room, approaching
Madame Le Tron and the circle of half-light. Giselle’s breath escaped her in
staccato-like puffs of mist. All seemed frozen, and then Madame began to speak,
her French accent thick and strong --
“They came large, and they came small. The portal opened
and beckoned all!”
Again she said --
‘They came large, and they came small. The portal opened
and beckoned all!”
And then again --
‘They came large and they came small. The portal opened and
beckoned all!”
Next, a sound echoed forth,
“’tap…tap.” At first the tapping was indiscernible, but it grew louder,
and then louder still, until suddenly Giselle screamed, “Alice,
Stop!”
Silence descended like a dome over the boudoir of Madame
Le Tron.
No one moved, not Madame, not Giselle, nor the beloved
recycle-tron called Joe.
Managing Mike guarded the door, his wrench-like arm held
at the ready.
“Tap..Tap..Tap…,” a sound, much like that of a metronome,
drew everyone's attention.
A cold artic wind entered and swirled about the room. It
tussled the bed cloths and drapes, set the family photos on the walls swaying
-- and then crashing to the floor, and then slammed Madam’s computer, which had
been eerily afloat in mid-air, into the white wall facing the foot of Madame Le
Tron’s big brass bed.
The computer burst into a thousand tiny pixels of color
that splashed against the boudoir’s wall.
Giselle tried to scream, but a tiny invisible set of
hands coved her mouth. ‘Alice,’ she thought, as she struggled beneath the grip.
The recycle-trons were on the move toward the lighted
pixels. Joe held the hose of the vacuum he had just used to clean up the crystalline
glass boldly in front of him, and Mike, with his wrench-like arms, was at the
ready.
Both robots, simultaneously, were stopped dead in their tracks, their power
sources inexplicably and suddenly drained.
Madame, still in a trance-like state, began to chant
rhythmically in time to the Tap…Tap…Tap --
“They came large, and they came small.
The portal opened and beckoned all!
Into the store each one flew --
Knocking out the old toys and bringing in the new!”
The pixels began to formulate a picture upon the
wall. It was Le Tron’s Etsy Shop! Only
it was different. The shop had been re-arranged and filled with beautiful dolls
– Ghost Dolls! All of the old toys were gone, except the horror-filled ones!
Giselle felt the tiny hands drop from around her mouth.
She was about to speak when Madame Le
Tron rose began to move closer to the wall. And then she spun on her heal and
said, “Oh, honestly,” the impatience quite evident in her tone. “It is
quite obvious that this ghostly child has been up to no good! The proof is in
the pudding. Regarder what she has done to our ETSY Store!”
Madame crossed to her computer, now in a solid form upon her
bed, flipped open the cover, and began to pull up http://www.etsy.com/shop/letron.
A ghostly, childlike giggle could be heard from across the
room, as Giselle felt a small tug on her pretty blonde hair.
“Stop it, Alice!” she whispered aloud. “Don’t you think you are in enough trouble
already? Madame is furious with you. Not
only have you completely rearranged Le Tron’s Etsy Store from the banner to stock,
but YOU, mon ‘petite phantom,’ have
also inserted your own toys, from the other realm, into the site, and….”
“Increased our views to the site ten-fold!” cheered Madame
Le Tron. “Tres bien, mon ‘petite
phantom!”
“Beep, Beep…Buzz, Buzz!” echoed Ghoulish Gordon the
recycle-tron!
Alice tap-danced happily around the room, spinning about
Managing Mike and then Wreck-It-Ralph, as she invisibly pressed the
dysfunctional robots’ re-set buttons, bringing them back to life!
Lights flashed, and a buzzing, not unlike an alarm clock,
went off in the distance.
‘This is unbelievable,’ thought Giselle. ‘Only in the Wonderful World of Le Tron can a Friday the 13th
‘Nightmare’ turn into a party with robots dancing, ghosts tip-tapping, and love
and laughter filling the room.’
“Nightmare…alarm clock buzzing in the distance? Am I
dreaming?” she said aloud. And with that
Giselle’s eyes flew open, and she was wide-awake. Her cellphone’s alarm clock
was buzzing away on her nightstand.
Floating sideways in the air was a pink tutu and a pair of
tap-shoes. Alice, the ‘petite phantom,’ was sound asleep by her side.
‘I remember now,’ she recalled as she shut off her cell
phone’s alarm. ‘Our traditional Friday the 13th sleepover! Only,
this is the first time we have celebrated in my dorm room, now that I am a
college freshman.’ Giselle smiled despite herself. ‘And based on the nightmare I just had, next
time we’ll invite Madame Le Tron and the recyle-trons. After all, Friday the 13th only
comes round, on average, every 7 months!’
Giselle picked up her cell and texted Madame:,
Missing
You! Call when you can. Got a Great sales Idea J
Love,
Giselle
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| Ghost Doll Mounted On Oil By Le Tron ~ "Toys With A Twist" |
Join us next Friday at 3 pm Central for an all
new episode from the “Wonderful World of Le Tron!”
Au Revoir!
Our
overall goal to -
BECOME A CHILDREN'S TV SHOW that
teaches sound moral values WITH A PRODUCT SPIN-OFF LINE that will remind all of
us of the same.
So, grab your favorite ghoul and snuggle up with
your favorite zombie while settling in for a wild ride.
You can also live our tale virtually by visiting
our ETSY shop where our SPRING CLEANING SALE IS ON http://www.etsy.com/shop/letron!
NOTE OF INTEREST...WE ARE SPRING CLEANING OUR ETSY STORE! GET FREE SHIPPING ON ALL ITEMS NOW - APRIL 1 ST, 2014 WITH COUPON CODE CLEAN/SWEEP! NO FOOLIN!
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