This weekend I was helping my friends pack up their house, and I came across their old Furby collection. As a passionate nineties historian, I was fascinated by those furry little pop culture relics, and my friend practically begged me to take them. So I did. Little did I know...
I had forgotten that they talk to each other. This is only a mild annoyance, until you're driving with three of them in the car. Then it's a form of torture that rivals waterboarding. As soon as I made the first turn, the Furbies were jostled by the movement of the car, and one woke up, the others following suit. The first one (their leader) started it off, just emitting a constant, unwavering beeping noise, like the world's creepiest, furriest alarm clock. Then the others chimed in, chirping random phrases and singing "Ring Around the Rosie." (By the way, have you ever heard that song? It's already just about the creepiest song in the history of the world. Add to that the fact that it's being sung by a furry little robot, and it's enough to give you nightmares for weeks.) Did I mention that their eyes blink? CREEP CITY. It's like if Chucky and Big Bird had a baby. And that baby was then possessed by the Devil.
Anyway, so I'm driving along, turning up the radio to try and drown out the loud beeping/chirping/singing of the choir of malicious Furbies in my passenger seat. Finally, I pull into the parking lot of the Harris Teeter and fumble around with the Chief Furby, desperately searching for its "off" switch...
Oh, wait. THEY DON'T HAVE ONE. THERE IS NO "OFF" BUTTON. What kind of sadist invented these creatures and didn't give them an "off" switch?!
I panic. And I'm pretty sure the people walking past my car into the Harris Teeter can hear the wailing Furbies, not to mention my frantic pounding of those fur-covered demons on my dashboard. It occurs to me that my only option is to remove the batteries, but that, of course, requires a screw driver. Thinking on my feet, I take off my ring and use it to unscrew the battery compartment. (Just call me Ms. MacGyver.) After struggling for another two minutes, I realize that the battery compartment opens from the other end. I finally rip open the electronic guts of that creepy little alien pet, silencing its piercing shriek of death. It was basically like a Terminator movie, but with fewer guns. You're welcome, Earth, for saving you from the resurgence of the Furby invasion.