It is perhaps the biggest mistake humanity can make to think that these things are our friends.
These unholy entities are not interested in bettering our lives. Oh no, friends and neighbors, their thoughts are not consumed with goodwill. It is our own corruptible nature that sustains them.
Of course they make themselves look lovable. Why wouldn’t they? They want our love. They want our children’s love. They want our affection. They crave it. They feed off of it in the same way we feed off of the products they push us towards.
If they’re supposed to be our friends, then ask yourself why the 6 foot tall, blood-red liquid dispensary would come crashing through our walls at the most inopportune times, invading our homes, forcing us to drink…drink….DRINK. What dark thoughts are contained in that sacrificial fluid that sloshes in his gargantuan inhuman body? What is the secret behind the sloshing?
Why would these other iconic creatures ply us with sugary cereals in the morning, begging us to eat them. Sure, the bunny makes a play at wanting the cereal for himself, but it’s just a trick. Don’t listen to his cries. We only eat because he wants it so bad. Our hunger is inflamed by his lamentations. Silly rabbit…
Silly…or devious.
The monster, the vampire, the ghost…even the sea captain. Crunch is his name. “Crunch?” How do you get the name “Crunch?” There is no benevolence behind his name, no simple, simpering kindness. Captain Crunch smiles while your bones break. His ship is a dread shadow at every port in the world. It’s made all the more terrible by the fact that he never stops smiling. Even when your bones break, that smile remains, leering.
Do you know what happens when you steal a Leprechaun’s gold? Try, then, to steal his only nourishment. Grow fat on the stolen sigils and weep when he visits you at night to take back the half-digested pulp that was his and his alone. He will pluck your wicked tongue from your face that you may never taste his charms again.
Over and over, we are told one thing: ingest until we hemorrhage.
Dig ’em.
Can’t get enough.
They’re grrrrrrrrrrrrrreat.
I’m cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.
Eat…eat….EAT….EAT IT ALLLLLL UPPPPPPPPP
And its not just the sugary treats that we should lay awake at night and fear. Who among us should not be terrified of the clown, the thief and the demented purple shape? What of the King, who demands of his subjects only heart attacks and high cholesterol. What of the rest of them: redheaded girls with erotic smiles, southern gentlemen in white suits with evil in their eyes, oversized kids in checkered overalls…even Noids. Avoid them. Avoid them, or else.
They’re all terrifying. As terrifying as the large white demon made entirely of tires, or the giant green thing that wants us to eat our vegetables. Does nobody else have nightmares about a peanut in a monocle?
The only way to dilute the power these eldritch horrors have over us would be to capture their forms in highly articulated action figures, so we can play out their sinister battles on a scale we’re more comfortable with. Because a 6 foot tall talking pitcher of blood is terrifying, but at six inches?
I can deal with that.