Grandma's Murder Clown(80 Posts)
More of a WWYD than AIBU...
My fantastic Grandmother knitted me this toy, around 10 years ago.
She was a very skilled knitter and it is extremely well made and clearly an enormous amount of time, love and skill went into making it.
My Grandmother has since passed away.
I loved her very very much and have several treasures that she made that I keep on display to remember her by.
"Chucky", sadly, lives in an airtight box in the loft, in case he decides to kill us in our sleep.
It seems offensive and a waste of such talent to keep him hidden away, but, frankly, he's terrifying.
I'd also feel bad giving him away, as he was made especially for me and customised to me etc and, like I say, Grandma dedicated a lot of time in him.
WWYD about the scary sentimental clown living in the attic?
I think if it wasn’t huge it wouldn’t be so sinister looking. But the size of a toddler - that sounds fearsome. I’m with the charity shop donation. He’s definitely plotting something and you don’t want to be around when he’s ready to put whatever it is into action.
When I was small one of my aunts gave us a porcelain clown (like those horrible dolls), I hated it and still hate clowns but your one is quite sweet looking! The same aunt is still terrible at presents.
That’s nothing compared to the sinister china clown collection my MIL has promised to leave us. Their beady eyes follow you everywhere and you can feel their evil presence from every room. There are 5 of them and I hate the smallest one the most.
I’d take your nice knitted one over those five freaky bastards any time
She also has a crazy doll collection she is threatening on leaving to my poor dd. I’ve suggested they are far too “nice” for a little girl and that SIL will appreciate them more
I think if it wasn’t huge it wouldn’t be so sinister looking
Oh it's big. I reckon it could take me if I was caught off guard
HeyNanny toddlers are bigger than they used to be too I reckon. That clown has to go. Any moment of vulnerability could well be the moment he makes his first strike.
Yeh he’s definitely going to kill you all! Keep it under lock and key.
Reminds me of my ‘dolly death’. My out of touch auntie bought me a doll for my 13th birthday. It was utterly terrifying. It used to move every time I closed my eyes (ok that might have been my over active imagination). My mum found it one day, safely hidden in the airing cupboard wrapped in a pillow case and stuffed under a mountain of bedding and towels. She disposed of it for me when I told her it was plotting murder 😱
Ahh my nan knit the whole range of these. I actually wish I had one 😓
Never mind the clown, kismet sleeps in a room full of porcelain dolls. Someone call the authorities, that is some crazy shit right there.
Jinxed I know someone who might be able to make your dream come true 😀
I'd need to keep this in sight at all times so you know exactly where it is and what it's doing. Kind of like a spider in the house - NOT out of sight, out of mind!
My Nana knitted these! They're horrendous aren't they?! Mine went off to live with a sentimental cousin
who is actually mad
My late Nana knitted me a rabbit one like this when i was little but it was green with pink (!) button eyes. I loved it.
Then I watched Watership Down and couldn't look at it again. My mum 'recycled' it locally and it somehow ended up about 3 miles away (small village). I next saw it during a sleep over with my BF - awful
But she liked it
You think your knitted Murder Clown is scary?
When I was 20, I started dating a
dim, but, oh, so fucking pretty lad who invited me to stay with him at his Nan and Granddad's 3 bedroom ex council house on an estate whilst they were away (with their permission).
We went in at about midnight after going to the pub. The house was in darkness, but downstairs looked alright, in that Old People Who Love Velvet, Shagpile Carpet and Textured Wallpaper way.
We went up the narrow stairs, minding the stairlift, all in darkness. He said 'Nan's made the spare room up for us' and I followed him into the darkened room. I sat on the ten foot high, two mattressed bed that had been raised specially for Old People and, just as my eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness of inch thick velvet and thought 'Oh, there are a lot of wardrobes or bookcases', he flicked the switch for the chandelier fitted with what felt like a ten thousand Watt bulb in each branch.
Without a word of a lie, the entire room was lined with double width shelving. On every shelf, put onto custom built raised bits for the rear half to make a double row, there was at least twenty porcelain dolls per shelf, all on stands. The room was floor to ceiling porcelain dolls, staring at me with a thousand eyes, darker and deader than a Great White in their ocean of plush dusky pink textured shagpile, velvet curtains, bedlinen, headboard, wallpaper and woodwork.
He noticed my surprise
horror and suggested we looked in another bedroom. A tiny boxroom, just big enough for normal people to have a single bed. This one was mauve. And filled with display cabinets.
Of China Fucking Clowns. Teeny ones that would crawl up your nose and eat your brain, medium sized ones that would eat the cat, three foot high ones that would stab you. And a fucking four foot high Clown Head in the centre of the room at face height. Just the head.
The entire upstairs was like I'd fallen inside Stephen King's head.
I was too scared to go into the bathroom in case there was a scary fisherman with glowing eyes, a yellow Sou'wester and a hook, waiting to disembowel me for the sins of my grandfathers. Turned out that there was only a risk of drowning in the sea blue textured shagpile underneath the sea green textured pedestal mat, seat cover and bath mat. And a painting of a fucking fisherman clown on the back of the door for you to look at whilst you took a piss. Which, as it turned out when I had to go in there, carefully leaving the light off, had details picked out in cunting glow in the dark paint.
I should have suspected something by the way the front garden full of gnomes, gently lid by solar lighting sticks had been untouched by the local yobs. But nothing had prepared me for that.
It traumatised me so much that, when I went home with somebody I had started dating a few years later and spotted a replica Star Trek: The Next Generation costume hanging behind his bedroom door, that seemed almost normal in comparison.
although I called a taxi to go home when that one suggested he put it on if I wanted.
Still not as scary as Nan Peel's Shagpile House of the Ten Thousand Evil Eyes.
I think he looks more like a killer snowman
Size of a toddler.
Cheers for the nightmares tonight op ffs
Well one of our family members has an actual chucky doll complete with knife. My ds 3 at the time was obsessed with it, loved playing with the bloody thing. It was the same size as him.
@MitziK, just logging in to say I've just had to wipe saliva off the laptop after reading your post and spluttering with laughter.
To the OP, Murder Clown is kinda cute looking, but it clearly isn't 'sparking joy' in your heart there.
Remember your Gran with a framed photo on a wall somewhere or keep a gift she gave you that you do like.
Murder Clown can go to a charity shop or car boot sale.
Ah, @WTFIsAGleepglorp, there's a further chapter in my sorry tale.
Things still went OK with the lad
because, as long as I didn't try and have an intelligent conversation with him beforehand, the sex was amazing and I got to know his family pretty well.
Sadly, his Nan passed away a few months later, just before my 21st birthday. On the day, his Mum laid on a special tea for me (I lived alone in my flat and didn't have any family to speak of, so I thought that was really kind of her). She put a lot of effort into baking a cake, decorating it, made little sandwiches and bought some Lambrusco to show how special she thought the day was.
She liked to light her rooms with lots of 'Tiffany Style' lamps - you know, the kind that are in Mutant Teddy Bear shapes and the like. In the half light of these, I was handed a carefully wrapped present, covered in foil wrap and plastic pink bows and shit by his mother.
As I'm working my way through the layers of foil and plastic curled ribbon, his mother beamed and said 'Nan wanted to get you something really special, so we went shopping and found you the perfect present just before she went into hospital'. My heart simultaneously sunk and flipped into the back of my throat.
I peeled the last layer back and lifted the lid.
They'd picked a porcelain doll with dark red hair, big green glass eyes, freckles and a psychotic, slightly pointed, toothy smile behind rosebud pink lips
'See, isn't she wonderful? We found one that looks Just Like You'.
I can't believe nobody has suggested unravelling him and turning the wool into something else!
Oh god no! Ds2 (now 16) has Mr Gardener that is definitely related to your woolly horrorshow. Everyone apart from ds2 calls it The Knitted Horror and I often threaten to unravel it and reknit it into a scarf, complete with face and bloody watering can.
GMIL gave one to ds1 when he was a baby, 18 years agi. She won it at bingo but ds1 was terrified of it. After a couple of years of it being stuffed under his bed I quietly got rid of it via charity shop. The next weekend we went to visit in-laws and were presented with Mr bloody Gardener, another bingo win. I gave up when ds2 clasped him to his toddler-sized bosom and he's loved him ever since.
I fucking hate Mr Gardener and all his knitted brothers.
Why is your boyfriend plotting with murder clown to kill you? He is providing the weapon to that evil wooden fiend. Be afraid. Very afraid, muahahahaha!
'See, isn't she wonderful? We found one that looksJust Like You'.
@MitziK! What did you do??
Oh, that things going to kill you, no question. Hope your will is up to date.
Going to the Isle of Wight in September so just googled the museum and nearly pooped myself over the doll that randomly pops up on the website when it first loads.
Maybe a sign I should avoid haha
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