A Ridiculous Obsession with the Thriller Video and a Hateful Brother

When I was a kid, I loved Michael Jackson. I LOOOOOOOOVED Michael Jackson and every song I ever heard that was sung by him. I also loved Rockwell's "Somebody's Watchin Me" because it sounded like Michael Jackson. To be clear, I still love Michael Jackson, but he's not putting out as much new stuff anymore so there's not as much to get excited about. Anyway, the Thriller record was my best friend. I loved folding out the cover to see Michael with that tiger. How bad ass Michael Jackson was! I played that record all the time.

Side Note: When we were little, my cousin Amber and I used to put records on my record player and play with the speeds. Thriller and the Rescuers stories were often subjected to lightning-fast and tortoise-slow changes to their rotation speeds, all at the expense of our riotous laughter. However, this was also the one time when Thriller was a second choice to anything. What we really loved was putting Olivia Newton-John's (who is NOT related to Elton John, as I assumed as a child) "Physical." Oh man you've never seen little girls laugh harder in your life then when Olivia Newton-John sang "Physical" like a chipmunk or like a very slow deep-voiced man. If I came across the opportunity to do that again, I would laugh just as hard.

Back to the original topic.

Thriller. I loved it. One day MTV aired the full-length 14-minute version of the Thriller video, followed by "The Making of Thriller" and my parents taped it. We couldn't tape over my episode of Rainbow Brite, however, (which just so happened to be "The Mighty Monstromurk Menace" if you're interested) so somewhere there's an 80s pot of gold existing in the form of Rainbow Brite episodes immediately followed by the entire Thriller video and The Making of Thriller featurette...on BETA.

I watched that tape constantly. I learned every move of that dance, every word spoken in both the video and the "Making of" and I'm surprised I didn't wear that thing out. I watched it literally all the time. When the video ended, I would rewind it and watch it again.

Problem is, I was 2 years old when that video was released. Which means, I was watching this video relentlessly beginning at about 3-4 years old. My dreams did not hold the same admiration for the video as my awake-self did. The only nightmares I can remember having as a child were werewolf nightmares. They would chase me through the moonlit, foggy forest and I would inevitably fall on my back in a pile of leaves, just as poor Ola Ray did in the video before werewolves moved in to rip me apart. They also chased me around a warehouse one night, and I have no idea where that came from.

I would wake up from these nightmares and have to use the restroom, which was located an easy 14 miles from my bedroom in hallways that could not be lit, lest their bright lights wake the family who all slept with their doors open. I was certain, absolutely certain, that there was a werewolf waiting for me when I left the restroom and I would haul ass back to my room and jump from the doorway to my bed, trying to keep myself a fast-moving target until I got to the safety of my bed, where werewolves don't go.

One night I was lying in my room, fearful of falling asleep because I had watched Thriller that day (again) and I was just sure that werewolves were coming. As my head rested anxiously on the pillow, I heard scratching noises.

Everything on me tenses.

I'm on alert.

Then my bed moves. I move! A very small movement that lifts me up just a hair. I realize that I have heard scratching and my bed has just raised a bit. Then it raises a bit higher. Holy God there's something under my bed. I've suddenly realized that my bed is not safe after all.

If I can clench it, it's clenched.

I just know that under my bed is a werewolf who has waited. Waited for his prey to become separated from the protection of her family and be alone in the dark where no one would ever believe her should she scream that something is under her bed. This werewolf was intelligent. A mastermind of hunting, if you will. It was also a spiteful werewolf, taunting its dinner for reasons I could only assume include an increased flow of blood so that the meat would be that much more tender and juicy when it ripped me apart.

I lift again.

I feel like crying out, but don't want to let the werewolf know that he's been discovered. Maybe my parents will come save me accidentally, the werewolf's position never having to be revealed while I leap to the safety of their arms.

That's not going to happen. My parents are watching TV that they don't get to watch while the kids are up, so they're not coming upstairs. I have to see what's under there and face my death like a lady. In a Care Bears nightgown. I lean over and lift the bedskirt, intent on looking my attacker in his yellow eyes.

I am shocked to see my brother lying on his back under my bed, with his finger to his lips going "SHHHHH!" I'm shocked not because it's more surprising to see my brother than a werewolf--but, actually, yeah, that IS more surprising. My brother hates me. He doesn't like playing with me and is quite mean to me most of the time. I would fully expect to see a werewolf before I saw my brother under my bed, engaged in what could only be called "play" with his little sister.

He tells me to be quiet, because mom and dad would probably yell at him for being in my room when we're supposed to be in bed. Then he tells me that I can have some of his rock candy he got that day for not saying anything.

Hooray! I wanted the rock candy so badly! It looked like diamonds but I could eat it and it was just pure sugar. Definitely worth the increased adrenaline I was experiencing. I tell my brother I will not tell on him and thank him for the rock candy. He leaves and I lay the rock candy on my pillow while I went to the bathroom. See, I had been roused awake which means I HAD to go to the bathroom again because that has to be the very last thing I do before going to bed and I need to not do ANYTHING after getting in bed or I'll have to go again. That's still true today.

I need to leave the restroom now and dart back to my bed. I'll be fine though, because there's rock candy waiting for me and I need to hide it before Brother takes it back. I run as fast as I can back to my room and look under the bed to make sure neither werewolf nor Brother is under there. Then I go to put my rock candy away.

The dick had already stolen it back. I went to ask for it, to no avail. I still have to be quiet, though, because I'm supposed to be in bed so I can't even tell on him.

All I got out of that experience was a fleeting glimpse of stolen rock candy and having to go to the bathroom twice in a span of 20 minutes.

And more werewolf nightmares.