When I was six, I brought a box of Crayons in the car with me. They were new and sharp and gorgeous, and I used them on our three hour drive to Maine. My parents brought a sketch book, but instead I used The Witches, scribbling inside the illustrations to make me less scared. And oh yes, I was fantasticaly, numbingly scared. They were coming for me, I was sure of it.
When we got to the beach; I decided there were no witches in the ocean, and forgot all about the crayons. By night they had melted all across the seat, a solid river of marigold, violet, and burnt sienna. I carved hearts in it with a pencil, and peeled off strips on the way home.
Last week at dinner, there were crayons on the table, and a candle. I had hit my over-it limit; there were more witches in the city than ever but I was still deciding how to take them. So I took four crayons and shoved them into the flame; they oozed and I felt a little better.
[CHIP & PEPPER - ARE THEY THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITES, OR DO THEY JUST MAKE CRAYONS?]