Luan arrived home twenty-five minutes after leaving the store: Her cheeks were red and numb from the crisp autumn air, and her feet were starting to ache. When she came through the front door, Lori and Leni were watching a daytime soap opera. Both turned as she shut the door behind her. "The show must go on," Luan said, and held up her new doll. "Meet Chucky, he's going to be standing in for Mr. Coconuts."

"Hi, Chucky," Leni said, waving.

"Ooo, he's creepy," Lori said, wrinkling her nose.

Luan turned him around and looked at him. Red hair, freckled face, blue eyes. "Kind of, but he's not so bad when you get used to him." She pulled Chucky's string.

"I'm Chucky, and I want to play."

"He's cute," Leni said.

Lori shook her head and looked away. "Creepy."

Luan shrugged. Lori's opinion didn't matter because Lori didn't subscribe to her website. Her followers would love Chucky. He had such potential.

At the top of the stairs, Lincoln appeared. "Say hi to Chucky!" she said, shoving the doll into his face. He let out a tiny cry and jumped back, which made her laugh. "Don't go doll loopy on me, Linc; he's part of my act."

"T-That thing?" Lincoln asked.

"Yep. He's Mr. Coconut's replacement."

"He's kind of...I don't know...creepy?"

Luan sighed. "Lori said the same thing. He's not that bad. Sheesh."

In her room, she shut the door and sat on her bed. She held Chucky up. "I don't think you're creepy. At least not much." She sat him down and looked at him. "I think you'd look good as a mime."

She got up, crossed the room, and opened her top drawer, where she kept her socks, underwear, and puppet clothes. She selected a black pair of pants and a black and white striped shirt. She sat on the bed, picked Chucky up, and undressed him, taking his shoes off then his overalls. He was wearing a little pair of whitey tighties. His crotch bulged. She pulled them down, and gasped.

"Oh, boy."

Chucky's genitalia was rendered in painstaking realism: Little penis, little testicles, red pubic hair. Luan blushed, then pulled his underwear back up. "I'm sorry, Chucky. I didn't think you'd be so, uh...yeah."

She put the pants on him, then the shirt. They fit perfectly. "There you go," she said, "and in no mime at all." She chuckled. "Now, let's rehearse."

They went through the act three times. At one point, Luna came in to grab her radio, and noticed Luan's new friend. "Righteous little dude," she said, "where'd you get him?"

"The junk shop," Luan said.

"Cool."

She came over and knelt down. "What's your name, dude?"

Luan pulled the cord. "I'm Chucky and I want to play."

"Guitar or drums?"

"I don't think he means that kind of play."

Luna shrugged. "You never know. He might be a killer bassist."

"Well, when we're done you can try him out, okay?"

"Sounds good."

After Luna left, Luan locked the door, opened up her laptop, and recorded her skit. When it was over, she went back and watched it to make sure it was ready for primetime.

It was.

She uploaded it to her site, and was just finishing up when Lucy popped her head in the door. "It's dinnerti..." she trailed off. "What's that?"

"What's what?" Luan asked.

"That doll."

"Oh, that's Chucky. He's new."

Lucy opened her mouth again, but closed it. There was something familiar about that doll, like she had seen it somewhere before. And that name...Chucky...she couldn't place it, but her stomach was suddenly heavy with dread.

"Dinner's ready," she said, and got out of there as fast as she could. Scratching her head at her sister's strange behavior (stranger than usual, at least), Luan got up and followed, closing the door behind her. Boy, was she hungry.

Alone in her room, Chucky sat in the middle of her bed, a smile fixed to his face, his eyes wide and staring. After a moment, he blinked, then shook his head, his expression going from manically happy to dark. He looked down at what he was wearing. "What is this shit?" he asked, his voice deep and gravelly. He got up, jumped off the bed, and crossed to the dresser, which he climbed. Standing in front of the mirror, he gasped. "That fucking bitch," he growled. He didn't like his normal attire, but this was crazy.

Sighing, Chucky jumped down and went to the door, which hadn't closed all the way. He pulled it open a crack and stuck his head out. The hall was empty. The sounds of talking and laughter drifted up the stairs.

He stayed where he was for a moment, listening.

Once, long ago, he had been a man. Charles Lee Ray. He was famous in Chicago as The Lakeshore Strangler; that was before he was shot and transferred his body into the doll with voodoo. His plan was to transfer back into a human body as soon as he could, but his previous attempts had been foiled; admittedly due to his temper. It was hard sitting still and smiling when everyone around you was a fucking asshole just begging for it. This time, though, he would play nice. And he had the perfect residence in mind.

That little white haired faggot.

Chucky could theoretically possess one of the girls (how goddamn many were there, anyway? He'd counted at least four aside from that skank Luan), but fuck that. He wanted some meat on his bone.

He had to play it cool. He went back over to the bed, climbed on, and sat down. It was hard being a good guy, though. He wanted to kill. He needed to kill. When he was a man, he never went more than three days between murders. After a while, he got used to it, he got to the point where anything less made him antsy.

In the end, though, it would be worth it.

He could do this.

From blow, Luan's voice drifted to him. "Why don't cannibals eat clowns? Because they taste funny!"

He sighed.

Maybe.