Disclaimer: I don't own Arthur or The Twilight Zone.
Arthur Read, age 8. An average kid about to take a not-so-average plunge into…The Twilight Zone. Do-do-do-do, do-do-do-do…
'Twas the night after Christmas. Arthur and D.W. were gleefully playing with their new toys as their mother labored at cleaning up the scraps of wrapping paper and tinsel from the floor. While Arthur carefully guided his Bionic Bunny action figure through the airspace of the living room, D.W. repeatedly pushed the button in the belly of her stuffed, striped kittycat. "My name is Tina the Talking Tabby." "I love you very much." "Will you be my friend?" "I'm hungry. Feed me."
"Argh!" grimaced Arthur as he listened to his sister's cat toy say "I'm so glad to be your kitty" for the umpteen thousandth time. "D.W., shut that thing up!"
"But I love my new Talking Tabby," said D.W., holding the toy up to her cheek and smiling blissfully.
"Mooommm!" Arthur groused. "D.W.'s toy is driving me crazy. Tell her to cut it out."
"You're just jealous because your Bionic Dummy doll doesn't talk," said D.W. petulantly.
"That's Bionic Bunny," Arthur snapped.
"It's time for both of you to go to bed," said their mother.
"Aaawww," groaned Arthur and D.W.
After the two children had retired to their bedrooms, Arthur lay awake for several hours, formulating a plan for the elimination of his sister's annoying new plaything. Finally the digital clock on the nightstand read midnight, and he jumped out of bed.
Opening his door very quietly, he tiptoed along the upstairs hallway toward D.W.'s room. He felt terrible about what he intended to do, but the only alternative was a gradual loss of his sanity.
The door to D.W.'s room was open a crack, and he slipped through stealthily. There lay his younger sister, snoozing peacefully, with her Tina toy lying on its back next to her. Without making a sound, Arthur wrapped his hands around the offending kitty and pulled it to his chest.
Out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and through the front door he crept noiselessly. Half a block of cold, wet snow stood between him and the garbage dumpster, but he bravely made the trek. He could feel the water seeping through the feet of his pajamas as he tossed Tina into the dumpster. At last the enemy was vanquished; at last he could breathe easily again.
As he reentered the house and closed the front door after him, he was startled by the sudden ringing of the phone. Who would call at this hour? he wondered.
Curious, he picked up the receiver. An oddly familiar, high-pitched female voice spoke to him:
"My name is Tina the Talking Tabby, and I'm going to kill you."
Then the line went dead.
to be continued