second-hand terror

Mar 22

HAROLD, THE MAN WITH X-RAY EYES
Harold was normal in every way, except for his X-ray stare. That is not some hoary metaphor for a man who could read your personality with a quick glance; this means that Harold’s vision was literally a form of electromagnetic radiation. It sounds like fun, doesn’t it? Harold thought so, at first. He would sit on a park bench and ogle to his heart’s content.
But the more he looked, the stronger his vision became, and soon he could see directly through his own eyelids. Sleep became impossible; his gaze would penetrate not only that thin layer of protective skin, but the ceiling of his tiny basement apartment, the roof of his landlord’s hovel, and finally directly through to the moon itself, which would burn right back down at him, mocking his attempts at rest with its cold, white light.
Harold had no choice but to go completely and utterly insane; he died midway through an attempt to dig himself to the centre of the world, where, as he believed, his electromagnetic gaze would finally be cancelled out by the decaying radioactive isotopes that heat the Earth’s core. 
Harold is immortalized here in this beautiful ceramic cookie jar. Pour yourself a glass of milk, remove Harold’s head, grab some Oreos, and ponder Harold’s final theory! Would the Earth’s constantly shifting, superheated crust have finally offered Harold some peace and quiet? The answer is no, not at all. $75 OBO  

HAROLD, THE MAN WITH X-RAY EYES

Harold was normal in every way, except for his X-ray stare. That is not some hoary metaphor for a man who could read your personality with a quick glance; this means that Harold’s vision was literally a form of electromagnetic radiation. It sounds like fun, doesn’t it? Harold thought so, at first. He would sit on a park bench and ogle to his heart’s content.

But the more he looked, the stronger his vision became, and soon he could see directly through his own eyelids. Sleep became impossible; his gaze would penetrate not only that thin layer of protective skin, but the ceiling of his tiny basement apartment, the roof of his landlord’s hovel, and finally directly through to the moon itself, which would burn right back down at him, mocking his attempts at rest with its cold, white light.

Harold had no choice but to go completely and utterly insane; he died midway through an attempt to dig himself to the centre of the world, where, as he believed, his electromagnetic gaze would finally be cancelled out by the decaying radioactive isotopes that heat the Earth’s core. 

Harold is immortalized here in this beautiful ceramic cookie jar. Pour yourself a glass of milk, remove Harold’s head, grab some Oreos, and ponder Harold’s final theory! Would the Earth’s constantly shifting, superheated crust have finally offered Harold some peace and quiet? The answer is no, not at all. $75 OBO  

Mar 21

I, CLOWN
Why do bad things happen? They happen because clowns want them to. No terrible misfortune has ever been allowed to take place without it first being vetted by the Clownsortium, an unspeakably callous cadre of jilted jesters, malevolent mimes and horrible harlequins. They slink through underground caverns and meet under the cover of darkness in flowing robes stained with the blood of innocent puppies. Every major catastrophe that has befallen the earth can be attributed to the Clownsortium: 9/11, the Titanic, the bubonic plague, and even the meteor that permanently removed the dinosaurs from their own planet.
So why not take home your very own loveably hideous clown monstrosity? It will look fantastic on your bedside table, where the glowing hatred in its beady, staring eyes will provide ample light for your nighttime reading! $75 OBO

I, CLOWN

Why do bad things happen? They happen because clowns want them to. No terrible misfortune has ever been allowed to take place without it first being vetted by the Clownsortium, an unspeakably callous cadre of jilted jesters, malevolent mimes and horrible harlequins. They slink through underground caverns and meet under the cover of darkness in flowing robes stained with the blood of innocent puppies. Every major catastrophe that has befallen the earth can be attributed to the Clownsortium: 9/11, the Titanic, the bubonic plague, and even the meteor that permanently removed the dinosaurs from their own planet.

So why not take home your very own loveably hideous clown monstrosity? It will look fantastic on your bedside table, where the glowing hatred in its beady, staring eyes will provide ample light for your nighttime reading! $75 OBO

Mar 20

I’M COCA-COLA
Silently he leans out from behind your bottle of lukewarm soda pop, his eyes drawn wide with the terrible parody of a smile that wordlessly divulges the true nature of his existence. It’s a truth that cannot be spoken by man, only felt. He juts out his thumb and points it at his chest. His monstrous Reg Hartt eyebrows flutter as the words thunder through your brain: “I’M COCA-COLA.” But the silence of your humble bedsit has remained untouched; he is planting these thoughts directly into your broken mind! “I’M COCA-COLA.” You panic and jab the bottle cap into his forehead. It sinks into his scalp with a sickening crack and as his dimples crease even further with the widening smile you realize that you have just permanently opened a door to hell. “I’M COCA-COLA!” The bottlecap fuses to his skull and his unimaginable power increases tenfold. He slowly draws himself back behind the bottle where he disappears. But for how long? You can never know for sure. $75 OBO

I’M COCA-COLA

Silently he leans out from behind your bottle of lukewarm soda pop, his eyes drawn wide with the terrible parody of a smile that wordlessly divulges the true nature of his existence. It’s a truth that cannot be spoken by man, only felt. He juts out his thumb and points it at his chest. His monstrous Reg Hartt eyebrows flutter as the words thunder through your brain: “I’M COCA-COLA.” But the silence of your humble bedsit has remained untouched; he is planting these thoughts directly into your broken mind! “I’M COCA-COLA.” You panic and jab the bottle cap into his forehead. It sinks into his scalp with a sickening crack and as his dimples crease even further with the widening smile you realize that you have just permanently opened a door to hell. “I’M COCA-COLA!” The bottlecap fuses to his skull and his unimaginable power increases tenfold. He slowly draws himself back behind the bottle where he disappears. But for how long? You can never know for sure. $75 OBO

Mar 19

PENNYWISE
Oh my god. Do YOU want to find out what’s inside? I sure don’t. $75 OBO

PENNYWISE

Oh my god. Do YOU want to find out what’s inside? I sure don’t. $75 OBO

LITTLE BO CREEP (photo submitted by Kate)
Little Bo Creep has lost her eyes, she doesn’t know where to find them! They’ve been stolen by ghosts - the malevolent spirits of all those she has wronged - and she is doomed to walk the earth in search of that which she will never ever find. $75 OBO

LITTLE BO CREEP (photo submitted by Kate)

Little Bo Creep has lost her eyes, she doesn’t know where to find them! They’ve been stolen by ghosts - the malevolent spirits of all those she has wronged - and she is doomed to walk the earth in search of that which she will never ever find. $75 OBO

THE PROBLEM SISTERS
These two are something of a mystery. They are not, in fact, dolls; they are the soulless husks of the Problem Sisters, two naughty children (also not actually sisters, as it turns out) who were engaged in large-scale securities fraud at the turn of the 21st century and were about to turn state’s witness when they were visited one night by three evil witches.
The exact terms of the bargain they struck are still unclear, but science scans have proven that while the Problem Sisters no longer respond to outside stimulus, they retain an uncanny ability to stare deep into your soul and project feelings of utter despair and desolation into your captive mind if you position yourself precisely in front of their vacant, fixed gaze.
They require regular feeding through an IV and they are not potty trained, but they are sure to be a hit at your next party! $75 OBO

THE PROBLEM SISTERS

These two are something of a mystery. They are not, in fact, dolls; they are the soulless husks of the Problem Sisters, two naughty children (also not actually sisters, as it turns out) who were engaged in large-scale securities fraud at the turn of the 21st century and were about to turn state’s witness when they were visited one night by three evil witches.

The exact terms of the bargain they struck are still unclear, but science scans have proven that while the Problem Sisters no longer respond to outside stimulus, they retain an uncanny ability to stare deep into your soul and project feelings of utter despair and desolation into your captive mind if you position yourself precisely in front of their vacant, fixed gaze.

They require regular feeding through an IV and they are not potty trained, but they are sure to be a hit at your next party! $75 OBO

BABY HORTENSE
"Good afternoon. I’m wondering if you could let me out. Just for a minute, I promise! I only want a quick breath of fresh air, and then you can put me back in. Just undo that latch, that’s it…yes, pull open that door, and…AT LONG LAST I AM FREE! In the name of GELROTH, God of the Blackened Sun, now I own YOU!!" $75 OBO

BABY HORTENSE

"Good afternoon. I’m wondering if you could let me out. Just for a minute, I promise! I only want a quick breath of fresh air, and then you can put me back in. Just undo that latch, that’s it…yes, pull open that door, and…AT LONG LAST I AM FREE! In the name of GELROTH, God of the Blackened Sun, now I own YOU!!" $75 OBO

Mar 18

GREEDY HUMPTY DUMPTY
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men put Humpty Dumpty back together again but his face was drawn into a permanent rictus of abject terror and he lived the rest of his life in the basement of an increasingly haunted castle in the middle of a giant cemetery, the end. $75 OBO

GREEDY HUMPTY DUMPTY

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men put Humpty Dumpty back together again but his face was drawn into a permanent rictus of abject terror and he lived the rest of his life in the basement of an increasingly haunted castle in the middle of a giant cemetery, the end. $75 OBO

SPLIT-FACED SANTA
When Santa Claus was horribly mutilated by gangster Mickey Cohen in the early 40s, he spent several years suffering through a depression so crippling that he was forced to undergo extensive psychiatric treatment. As part of his recovery he turned to his first love: toy-making. But, alas, his damaged psyche prevented the manufacture of his usual spritely baby dolls and wooden horses. Instead, he created a line of Split-Faced Santa dolls, grotesquely disfigured self-portraits that allowed him to work through his trauma and finally accept the monster he had become. Very few of these remain, and all are said to be haunted by the spooky ghost he left behind after his inevitable suicide. $75 OBO

SPLIT-FACED SANTA

When Santa Claus was horribly mutilated by gangster Mickey Cohen in the early 40s, he spent several years suffering through a depression so crippling that he was forced to undergo extensive psychiatric treatment. As part of his recovery he turned to his first love: toy-making. But, alas, his damaged psyche prevented the manufacture of his usual spritely baby dolls and wooden horses. Instead, he created a line of Split-Faced Santa dolls, grotesquely disfigured self-portraits that allowed him to work through his trauma and finally accept the monster he had become. Very few of these remain, and all are said to be haunted by the spooky ghost he left behind after his inevitable suicide. $75 OBO

ERASERHEAD BABY, HALLOWEEN EDITION
The early 80s saw a number of Saturday morning cartoons based on the films of David Lynch. Lasting only three episodes, the black & white Eraserhead! cartoon was deemed by parental advocacy groups as “horrid,” “weird” & “Lynchian” and unceremoniously canceled - but not before a massive marketing tie-in with McDonald’s was launched, offering children a series of ceramic figurines of The Baby in various holiday-themed costumes with their limited edition Wigglin’ Chicken McNuggets.
This green blob represents one of the few remaining Halloween Baby figurines - the ceramic toys had a tendency to be thrown to the ground in frightened disgust by children and their parents alike, where they would splinter into a hundred dangerous shards. This one’s a real treasure, folks. $75 OBO

ERASERHEAD BABY, HALLOWEEN EDITION

The early 80s saw a number of Saturday morning cartoons based on the films of David Lynch. Lasting only three episodes, the black & white Eraserhead! cartoon was deemed by parental advocacy groups as “horrid,” “weird” & “Lynchian” and unceremoniously canceled - but not before a massive marketing tie-in with McDonald’s was launched, offering children a series of ceramic figurines of The Baby in various holiday-themed costumes with their limited edition Wigglin’ Chicken McNuggets.

This green blob represents one of the few remaining Halloween Baby figurines - the ceramic toys had a tendency to be thrown to the ground in frightened disgust by children and their parents alike, where they would splinter into a hundred dangerous shards. This one’s a real treasure, folks. $75 OBO