So, last night, in my tireless search to find the very best in Victorian memorial photography, I stumbled across THE SCARIEST THING EVER. Real Talk: it was even scarier than the little girl with her eyes open. Yep, believe it! Now, I'm not entirely sure which of the latter three websites I had posted links for held this object of extreme horror, because every time I accidentally laid eyes on it I screamed "Oh--my--DEAR GOD!" and frantically clicked back to my homepage. But I bet you can find him with only a cursory scanning of each page.
You may have noticed that I referred to The Scariest Thing Ever as a "him." I think it's a him, but I'm not really sure. Maybe you will be better at ascertaining its gender. Just take a look for what appears to be an old man/flour sack hybrid with a dash of Nosferatu and a healthy dollop of "WTF?" Ok, sounds kinda funny, right? WRONG. Because beyond scary dude's super bizarre, eerily blank visage is the fact that he appears to have some sort of large, soulless coinage for eyes (see artist's rendering).
The thing about Old Pennyeyes is that he so totally seems like a folklore character whose story could've been passed down through generations of families on London's East End. (Where I live! Luuuuucky me!!!) I can envision little cockney urchins all tucked tight into their bed, saying their prayers as they drift off to sleep, the fire casting weird, tall shadows across the walls. Little Ollie has almost outgrown the threadbare blanket he sleeps under each night, and his toes are sticking out, cold and unprotected. Just as he is about to drift off to sleep, his mum peaks into the room and says, "Sleep tight me little Ollie. And be good, else Old Pennyeyes'll be in to harvest some tasty eye membranes!"
OMG!!!! Chilling stuff, right? So, just as I was finishing yesterday's fateful post, my friend called me and asked me to go to the bar. I was locking the door to my place when I noticed that, at the end of the hallway, the light was flickering dimly on and off. It gave me pause and I thought, "Oh man, what would I do if Old Pennyeyes came barreling out that door?" And that's when I realized, "Shit, dude, I'd be HELLA pissed. Fuck that guy, I don't need him being all scary and gross and misshapen in MY APARTMENT BUILDING."
So yeah, seriously, fuck that guy. I'm done looking up scary shit on the internet for this week. Here's a pumpkin martini recipe.
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