Remember Ecto Cooler? IT remembers you.
IT remembers every dark day you spent hiding in your room. All the hours listening to NSYNC while you carved the names of dead gods into your Trapper Keeper. IT knows your flesh, your sins, your AOL user ID. No, not that one. The one you used to spy on your crush. IT remembers StoneColdTeenAustin89.
Your shirt said NO FEAR. But now there’s a dread deep in your bones. Those bones you made firm for IT with whole milk every day in the cafeteria. The spell you and your best friend read off that GeoCities website? That was real. Those clip art skulls bled into your reality. Gnawed at the edges of your consciousness. Crept behind the static of channel three. Your Furby going off in the middle of the night, even after your dad took the batteries out, that was IT.
Like a classic Tiffany-style lamp from a Pizza Hut buffet, IT has hung over you for decades. Pleading won’t save you. IT has watched as time slipped through you, seen the things you’ve done, the things you’ve become. Your dead Tamagothi. Stealing your sister’s lighter. How deeply you embraced Ska. That time you told Jeremy you weren’t screen-peeking in Goldeneye, you were just really good from playing with your cousin every weekend.
IT knows you sucked at Goldeneye.
You thought your new gods would save you? You are old blood. Your crypto is as worthless as your Beanie Babies collection. All of your old hobbies have been consumed by the beast. You’ve been priced out of a home and your Pokémon cards. IT has tallied each of your misdeeds. And now IT has come to you, in this Taco Bell bathroom, to collect. Nothing will save you.
IT will puncture you like a Capri Sun.
IT will drink you whole.
IT will Live Más.
