The purple pacifier, where is it?? Dear God in heaven, who’s got the purple paci?! I can’t find it, holy hell I can’t find it.
I’ve looked everywhere and it’s gone, it’s gone I tell you! They need it, I need it. My sanity depends on the purple paci!
Did one of you sons of bitches take it? I swear to all that is holy that I will come to your house and end you. I know that’s harsh, man, but you just can’t imagine what it’s like.
I’ve tried taking away all pacifiers once before. Oh yes, I ventured bravely into that battle. I didn’t want this fight anymore. I didn’t want the screaming, the yelling, the refusal to go to bed unless they had a pacifier.
So I got rid of them. All of them. I cut the tips off of them, buried them in holy ground and then spit upon the grave.
But they came back. They always come back.
I would put my three-year-old daughter down for the night. She would wake up in the morning and come into my room. And there, right in her pie hole, would be a pacifier. Staring at me, mocking me, daring me to actually do something about it.
I would rip it from her mouth and by the power of Christ that compels me, banish it to the depths of hell from whence it came. There would be screaming and there would be shouting, beds would be levitating and pea soup would be vomited. But I fought the righteous fight.
My two-year-old son would then come in, also suckling on the sweet teat of a pacifier. I have no idea where he got it from. Each time I would get rid of them and each time they would come back. Within an hour they would reappear. There was no ridding myself of these vile things.
Like little nifflers, the kids would search them out as if called. I began to wonder if they had little caches of these damnable things around the house or had they opened some portal to the pacifier underworld of evil?
Eventually, one particular paci came and exerted its dominance over the others: The Purple Pacifier.
Although in appearance quite ordinary, it was obviously something special. Within days it had turned my innocent children into its devilish followers. Worshiping and chanting “the Purple Paci, the Purple Paci”
It wasn’t long before I to succumbed to its will. The children turned on me. They pulled my shirt, ripped at my pants legs, uttered curse after curse in the name of their false idol, the Purple Paci.
And as there is only one Purple Paci, they quickly turned on each other to curry more favor with the anointed pacifier. No single one could possess it yet no single one could resist it.
So when you are near me, close to my bed so that you can hear my mad ravings, lean in close and pay attention to what I whisper. Concentrate on my mumblings and you will hear my message:
Where is the Purple Paci?
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Originally Published on Hossman at Home