I.

Entry 1. Sid Phillips watches the demon toys get thrown out.

It was a typical day in the life of me. My current girlfriend was right at jailbait age if my old man ever needed bail money; my mom was off with her twenty-something-younger boyfriend and my little sister Hannah was at some hokey youth group thing. I swear; the kid's been holding crap against me ever since we were younger. Well, there I was in my awesome threads and rockin' music set. As I passed by this younger dude's house, I saw to my absolute amazement the cowboy doll who had caused me five years of therapy, two years of learning to say the word 'toy' again without fainting and a good fifteen years of having everyone think I was crazy – which is probably one of the reasons I dropped out.

The scene from my backyard is as clear to me even today.

"We toys…" I still shudder when I remember, "can see everything."

To this day I've never been able to think straight. After spending the vast majority of my time in the attic writing 'I will never harm my toys again' I eventually returned to normal life and tried to gather the remains of my sanity – after asking my mother to cleanse all of my room with holy water and having my old man cover our whole backyard with cement.

That's right, my demon toys were still there and I covered them with cement.

See, after the whole experience I went straight and started attending church regularly. Not now, of course, and the whole sitting through church and singing praises. Nah. I was only there for confession. And boy, when I unloaded on that guy did I ever unload on that guy.

"Young Sid, how many times did you attempt to commit arson to your toys this year?"

"Uh… I lost count at fifty-two. No wait. A hundred and ninety-six times."

"Son, you do realize you are an absolute abomination."

"Sir, you do realize I know what you do on your 'religious retreats'."

It's pretty obvious where that phase of my life went.

But there I was, in the present day of June the 18th 2010, seeing that same cowboy doll in the plastic flesh running after a garbage bag. My heart started pounding and my palms got to sweating. I waited until the garbage truck came to a complete stop, narrowed my really deep, handsome eyes and sailed across the street gracefully to exact my rightful revenge.

"Watch it, punk!" some yelled: blaring their horn.

That's when the toy looked up at me and the plastic threading of the garbage bag came undone and they – they all saw me. I didn't know most of them; except for that recalled Buzz Light-year who the science-like people had found contained a deadly, flammable chemical capable of blowing the entire Tri-state area up; but I knew from the completely creeped out looks on the other toys' faces that they knew me. And Reverend Stalks as my witness, if I didn't exact my revenge on those toys, then, well – who else was going to?

I gave them the 'I'm watching you' two-finger eye thing.

For when we saw each other again, I would be donning a new alter-ego.

Which I would dub… uh, let me think.

Oh, OK!

Sid the TOY SLAYER!

End entry 1.

A/N: Hey, if it 'aint your cup of tea, don't drink it. ;)