Consider Yourself Warned

Scary movies have never appealed to me. As a pre-teen I tried to prove my courage by watching horror films with my friends, but I hated the feeling of being afraid, and by the time I was a teenager, I’d built up enough courage to tell my friends I’d really rather play with bugs than watch a scary movie. And since then, I just don’t watch them.

Being afraid is not a feeling I covet. I don’t seek out adrenaline rushes, either. You won’t catch me willingly riding a roller coaster, skydiving, or doing any other risky activity associated with making your heart pound faster. I prefer cheap thrills and not risking my life. There is nothing appealing about doing anything that could easily cause me to scream, cry, or pee my pants. Why people seek this out and pay good money for it, I don’t know.

Recently I watched a program on television that frightened me beyond any kind of terror I felt watching The Exorcist as a child, or any paranormal story that I only half-believed, yet it scared the pants off me anyway. This show gave me nightmares the first time I watched it, and though I’ve tried to avoid it at all costs, occasionally I’m awake into the later hours of the day and I catch a glimpse of it as I’m flipping through the channels. No matter how strong I think I am or how much loving support I have with people around me, I cannot watch this show without having anxiety attacks. If you’ve watched this show, too, you probably know exactly what I’m talking about.

I would hereby like to declare that the TLC TV show “Jon and Kate Plus 8” is the scariest thing I’ve ever seen.

One child gives me the willies. Two children make my skin crawl and I will run if they get worked up in any way, happy or upset. But eight? Eight kids, which include one set of twins and one set of sextuplets, could possibly be worse than anything I’ve ever seen before.

Boyfriend Extraordinaire is the oldest of nine kids, and though the concept of nine kids is petrifying as well, at least they weren’t all the same general age. He was already away at college when the youngest was born, so it isn’t like there were eight preschoolers in the house at one time.

Dear Flying Spaghetti Monster! EIGHT! PRESCHOOLERS! In the house! At one time!

I think I’m going to pass out.

They make so much noise! And they’re always talking, and someone’s always crying, and I don’t understand a word they say in their subhuman babytalk. It’s not just these particular kids. It’s kids in general. But there are so many of them! They’re everywhere! Two go to school and six are too young for school, but it’s the youngest ones who drive me the craziest. No matter how orderly their home might be, to me it’s complete chaos. Everyone wants attention, and the elaborate games they have to play to keep everyone entertained exhausts me just watching. I just…just can’t watch it. There are so many of them!

Kids are like spiders. One spider can be kinda cool for about five minutes, watching it crawl around, and talking to it, knowing it doesn’t understand you. Two spiders are a little creepier. I think they’re going to gang up on me, and they will if you let your guard down. But eight spiders?! Eight spiders mean that at any moment, you can become spider food. Kids and spiders are the same to me.

Jon and Kate are brave, but after about three minutes of watching the show, I start thinking they’re lunatics. I recognize that they didn’t intend to have eight kids in two pregnancies, but there should be some kind of trade-in system for when you have too many kids. We should be able to exchange them somewhere for other goods. In the warped world of my imagination, Jon and Kate should’ve been able to trade two of the sextuplets for a home addition, one for a new car, and another one for better appliances. There are a lot of people out there who want children, and I think if you have too many, you should be able to trade them. That would make me happy. Not that Jon and Kate would have done this, because they seem to actually enjoy the chaos, but maybe, if I ran the universe, people would have this option, so that TV networks wouldn’t see this family as being so special and inflict the horror that is this zoo of children upon those of us in society who have a child phobia.

I suppose the bottom line is that my morbid curiosity has forced me to watch this show twice, and each time I found myself more upset, more horrified than I thought possible, and it’s my fault for watching. I shouldn’t watch. My blood pressure shoots up, I cover my eyes, I mute the television, and sometimes I have to leave the room and then come back to watch the end. This is not the kind of stress that should be on a television show. This should have an X-rating. It shouldn’t just be on any time of day for channel flippers to innocently find. This show should be available only if you punch in a complex code and sign a waiver, it’s that scary.

So, if you haven’t seen the program, consider yourself warned. You can skip all the horror films they release from now on and watch this show to get that sense of terror and helplessness that so many people seem to crave. For me, I am done. No more. I’d much rather play with spiders.