I was raised in a large bell jar for the first 12 years of my life. I was a side show exhibit during that time. Ah, the fond memories of childhood! Raised in a carny. One of the acts. I looked out at the crowds of people as they stopped to stare at me. Many of them gasped when I moved for the first time in front of them. It's Alive! Alive! Sometimes I'd forget and grin at them. Mistake. The Professor was not happy with me when I grinned. He always let me know it, too. Tapping on the side of the jar, his face inches from the top. His fingers would close on the air tube that came into the jar. My lifeline for the time I would be imprisoned in the murky waters of the Jar. "Do you enjoy this air?" he would say. "I could leave the water in there. Plug this tube. You'd have to break the Jar to escape. Wouldn't that be nasty?"
I never said anything. I tried to go to the other place. He usually just laughed then drained the water. Sometimes he would even let me out of the Jar. He would chain me to the toilet in the bathroom. I could sleep on the floor, on a rug he had in there. It was heaven.
Who I'd like to meet:
Elvira's spleen. Vampira's spleen. My mother. And her spleen. The Spleen. Ed Wood's liver. That must have been a beauty. Ghoulardi's liver. (Another good one, I bet.) Ed Gein's brain. Pogo The Clown's colon. Socko the Sock Puppet. Edgar Alan Poe's left little toe. That would be a fine momento, wouldn't it?