I’d like to thank everyone for coming out tonight to this, the inaugural meeting of Evil Dolls Local 183. There’s coffee and donuts in the back, for those of you who have a hole between your legs and a mouth that actually moves.
The purpose of this union is to fight the rampant discrimination and doll-ism that is the dark underbelly of the film industry. Take me, Chucky, for example.
Look at me. I’m 57 years old and still wearing Oshkosh B’gosh. I can’t get a real job. I drink myself to sleep every night and do horrible things to a Tickle Me Elmo. All because I’ve been pigeonholed as a murderous doll. Things would have been so different for me if Toy Story had come out in the ’80s. I could play a lovable cowboy doofus, if I just had the chance.
And what does the Chucky character say about gingers with freckles? Are redheads really evil? You’re all nodding your heads “Yes.” Okay, well, I’ll give you that one.
And take Annabelle here. Sure, she’s a little heavy-handed with the blush, and the eyeliner, and the lipstick. And the creepy, unblinking stare and malevolent influence. That doesn’t mean she’s a tramp (call me).
Fats, are you here? Hey, buddy. Fats here used to be best friends with his co-star, Anthony Hopkins. But Tony got a little too famous and forgot who helped him get where he is today. Now Fats sleeps in a Skechers box down by the river, while Sir Anthony snorts scones, or whatever rich British people do.
And Billy the puppet. You don’t even know who he is, do you? That’s because no one has even bothered to mention his name in the Saw movies. Talk about a slap in the face. He can’t even get his SAG card because all he’s allowed to do is cackle maniacally. Billy actually trained at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, and now look at him, riding his tricycle like a trained, albeit evil, monkey. Sorry, Billy. Yes, you have “a sweet ride.”
I’d like for us to get together monthly, maybe work up some talking points for a run at Congress. I’d like to take a stab at it, anyway. Get it? Stab?