"Jane, when I was young I'd cover my whole body with my blanket before going to sleep. I was afraid that animated mannequins with no faces were coming to kidnap me. The only way to avoid them was to hide."
"Hmm. You know, there was a hall that seperated my bedroom from the bathroom. I remember being afraid of a giant monster-hand that lived in the hall. When I had to pee at night, I would leap over the hall floorboards onto the bathroom tiles so the monster-hand wouldn't wake up and grab and crush me."
"Despite our boogeymen, we conquered all obstacles. Back in the day I could eat sugar-coated cornflakes for breakfast, a rainbow-pop for lunch, and cuban meat patties for dinner. I could climb trees and slide down hills with nothing but a few scrapes to show for it."
"Eventually you realize that the fear is all in your mind. As an adult you learn to sleep without the safety of your blanket and walk non-challantly across those once dreaded hall floorboards."
"And that's when your knees start to ache. Your stomach can't digest what it used to. Mommy and daddy go away. Your friends get flesh eating diseases. You don't even have a buck to buy a comic book."