BUNNY LAKE IS MISSING, with SIR LAURENCE OLIVIER.

That movie still haunts me. Disappearing little girl. That creepy antique doll shop owner. Burning the dolls. And when they finally find him with the little girl in the playground at dark.

I have to go before I throw up.

UNK SEZ: Artic1111, thanks for bringing up a film that's not talked about nearly enough! What a great, ahead of it's time thriller, and who can beat that cast? Besides SIR LAURENCE OLIVIER, you've got CAROL LYNLEY (THE SHUTTERED ROOM) and KEIR DULLEA (BLACK CHRISTMAS) on board as well. I threw up some shots of that creeped-out doll shop, but as for the ending, it's best we keep those who have not seen it yet in the dark…

Well, I guess it's time I get this out and over with.

I was raised to whisper these kinds of things to a priest behind a one-way wicker viewer, but since I dropped my faith, I now seek penance at the knees of Uncle Lancifer and Aunt John.

I have been a mama's boy my whole life, but I think that was set in stone the day my parents took me to see PETE'S DRAGON. Others may trace their fear of backwoods people back to THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE, DELIVERANCE, GOD'S LITTLE ACRE, etc., but mine began with the appearance of the Gogans in PETE'S DRAGON.

Forgive me for not remembering the scene so accurately (after all, it was traumatic… I've tried to block it), but there is a moment in the film where the hillbilly Gogans are hunting for the runaway Pete with their clubs and sticks. It made me beg my mother to take me out to the lobby. I refused to go back in, so I'm sure we just sat on a bench and she held my head to her while I waited for my sisters and father to finish watching the movie.

It was the Gogans' dirty faces, nasty teeth, filthy hats, and redneck noses that scared me so. Oh, and their voices. These were people that sounded like animals. I'd never seen such scummy looking humans before in my life.

UNK SEZ: Fox, I just reacquainted myself with those hillbilly Gogans and their non-smash hit "The Happiest Home in These Hills." All I can say is, you are correct, those folks are grade "A" trash. For a moment I thought I was watching a documentary on my pre-Aunt John dating history (which, full disclosure, does include SHELLEY WINTERS!). In the life imitates sub-art category: one of those flea-bitten, urine-stained, good-for-nothing foaming at the mouth louses one day grew up to be T.V.'s JEFF CONWAY!

P.S. : The ALWAYS sly "Fox" has got a swinging pad of his own a couple doors down that ya'll should swing by called TRACTOR FACTS!!!!

DISCLAIMER: Before I start, I really feel the need to ask that you don't include any pictures if you choose to put this traumafession on your website. Unlike my previous entries, this particular trauma was, in fact, so traumatizing that any picture from the trauma inducer in question leads me into a mild panic attack. I've got no problem if you post a link to the youtube video at the bottom of the page, but please keep this entry free of visuals. Again, please do not post any pictures/videos of the front page from this, I really, honestly have a mild panic attack from anything associated with the whole ordeal. Thank you for understanding.

I was no more than nine years old when my life was forever changed (O.K., a bit dramatic, but it had a lasting effect on me none the less). I was at a sleepover at my dear friend Anna's house and she had recently discovered "This really funny cartoon!" The cartoon in question was none other than HAPPY TREE FRIENDS. Now, I'm sure that most of you have heard of this little gem. Those of you calling me a sissy probably saw this later on in life than those of you who are now curled up in a ball under your desk. Either way, the whole thing screams TRAUMA!

Well, the particular episode that I viewed at the tender age of nine was entitled "Flippin' Burgers." The site was colorful, and filled with pics of cute little cartoon animals. Now, my friends and I often got our kicks from laughing at stupid little kid shows (usually the ones found on Nick JR that were so happy and pointless that it amused our nine-year-old minds). I assumed that this was a similar case, but damn was I wrong.

Before the episode, there was a loading screen. There was a claw machine full of cute little cartoon animals. The claw picked up one and slammed it against the side, causing it to become bruised and bloody. That made me a bit nervous, but I laughed it off.

The episode opened with a little pink rodent like critter and a yellow bunny eating at a McDonald's style joint. The rabbit accidentally squirts ketchup on the pink rodent, and both of them giggle in a stupid/sickeningly cute way. And then the whole thing takes a hard left turn. A little green rodent dressed like a War Vet sees the ketchup and has a flashback of little dieing rodent children from the war. He goes apeshit and starts killing everybody.

First he runs up to the bunny and stabs it through the jugular with a straw. In an attempt to get the blood back into his body, the bunny starts drinking the blood, which is coming out of the straw, passing out/dieing. At this point I was pretending to laugh, but feeling a bit ill. The green rodent then moves on to the little pink one, coming up behind it and jamming a ketchup bottle in one ear and a mustard bottle in the other, squeezing them until they come out her nose (I may be mistaken, but I believe that her eyes popped out and the condiments came from them too).

Then came the grand kill. A cute little skunk was in the kitchen flipping burgers over a Sponge Bob style grill. The green rodent slammed the skunkie's face onto the grill. I assumed that the worst was over, and so laughed at that kill to please my friend. But oh no, the initial face slamming was just the start. The green dude pulls the skunk's face back up at the camera. The skunk is screaming in pain, one of its eyes is squinted shut and the other is left behind on the stove with a bunch of her burning facial flesh. Its face is burnt up and disgusting.

I started sobbing at that point, and my friend turned to comfort me. However, she forgot to turn off the cartoon. A father bear and a baby bear are entering a car. The fast food place explodes behind them, and they go up in flames/are crushed by falling debris. Another critter is killed by a falling sign, and more are burned alive, screaming in pain, pure terror on their cute little cartoon faces.

At the end, the green rodent takes a French fry, dips it in the bunny's blood, and eats it contently.

Later that night, I had my Mom pick me up, too upset/in shock from the cartoon to want to play Barbies as was the plan. Before I left, my friend begged me not to tell about the cartoon, afraid that my Mom would tell her Mom and put the squash on it. And so, true to my word, I didn't tell my Mom until a full month later, after a month of sulking around feeling sick and bursting into tears whenever I saw a squirrel/a cartoon/a person eating a burger. I refused to go to fast food places, and wouldn't eat French fries.

About six months later, I saw it in a Hollywood Video (I believe it was a boxed set). From then on, I refused to walk into that store, knowing that the dreaded box with the smiling green rodent would be ready to stare me down as soon as I walked through the door. It wasn't until last year, at fourteen years old, that I managed to walk in (eyes shut), rent saw 3 (ironic, right?), and walk back out of the store. HAPPY TREE FRIENDS will forever be burned in my mind as one of the most traumatizing things I've ever watched (Coming from a girl who watched MEET THE FEEBLES at age 6.)

AUNT JOHN METHUSELAH SEZ: Carolyanne, not only is yours the first TRAUMAFESSION to come with a non-graphic clause, it also the first to make your Aunt John feel ancient. You're 14? Really? Is it hot in here or did you just send me into pre-mature menopause? I was well into my (cough) thirties when I first encountered the HAPPY TREE FRIENDS via a creepy janitor that worked in my office. He was really into the psychotic critters and forced me to watch them while he stood a little too close to me mouthing all of the words. I was more traumatized by the personal space violation than the candy-colored ultra-violence unfolding on the screen. Anywhoozles, please excuse your dear old Aunt John while I bum a handful of Geritols and a cup of Activia off of JAMIE LEE CURTIS… in the meantime, everyone (except for you, Carolyanne) should check-out FLIPPIN' BURGERS.

I grew up in Pennsylvania German country just outside the influence of the Amish. We visited my grandparents, a stoic, Dutch farming couple with heavy Pennsylvania Dutch accents, weekly on a Sunday, along with other cousins, just enough to get a taste of the quiet farming life. We were mesmerized, yet horrified by a short book called "Struwwelpeter" that was stuffed into the bookcase, next to dusty Farmer's Almanacs, and antiquated encyclopedias. It was pronounced by my Grandmother as "Schtribblepater", and I remember her saying to "Pay mind" to it, which meant to read and learn from it.

The book rattled off a dozen or so short, illustrated poems that were meant to scare children into obedience, and to stay on the path of good hygiene. Don't play with matches lest you incinerate; don't go outside during a storm or you'll blow away…those were the moral lessons taught at the expense of children's lives.

The one tale that I can remember to this day, was little Suck-a-Thumb.

Little SAT was told by his mother not to pop that delicious thumb of his into his mouth while she went out shopping, because there was a tailor in the neighborhood that was rumored to get a little scissor-happy at the sight of such a disobedient youngster. No sooner does she leave, than the thumb goes in. The next picture and prose feature the long-legged scissor-man, who bounds into the room rather mechanically, like a cuckoo clock bird the second the hour changes, with a large pair of hedge-clippers, and cuts little SAT's thumbs off, blood and all, before making a hasty egress.

Gads!

But what I think drew us back again and again to marvel at the horror, was the Mother's response upon her return to a bleeding, thumb-less child. "Well", she says," I knew it would happen". And the last frame shows little SAT, in a thumb-less pose of regret and useless penitence.

That story would haunt me come bedtime, not only for the sheer violence of it all, coupled by the parental indifference, but also for the fact that to a child of the ‘70s, weaned on H.R Puffinstuff and the McDonaldland characters, a trip to our television-less grandparents was culture shock enough.

The book, which I thought even then to be 100 years old, was thick with stylization and verbiage fitting the 1800's, and when placed next to genuine authentic reference materials used by my farming grandparents to predict planting seasons and crop rotation in a rather other-worldly fashion, gave room for just a modicum of doubt in my young mind as to if such atrocities could have been commonplace back then.

The trauma was not so much for the story, but for my strict Pennsylvania Dutch heritage in general.

UNK SEZ: Bigwig, what an amazing book! I have gathered from the remarkable resemblance between myself and the tailor in the illustration that your own Unkle Lancifer has lived previous lives! It seems my earlier incarnation was a stickler for manners too! Mindful kiddies should take heed and learn from the mistakes of those who fell before them. Read and learn from Struwwelpeter HERE!

Open scene, mid ninety-nineties. I was still in college, working at a local PC store and I got my hands on one of the first CD-ROMs on the block. The little 486 PC spun the disc with glee as my friends and family were awestruck to see a little 1-inch by 1-inch blurry, grainy, pixilated video of a woman in an Australian zoo talk about an all-too-cute koala bear. Technology wonder of wonders, what will they think of next!

Fast forward to 1996 and I not only graduate college, but to a faster PC, and an assistant manager job at a chain video game store, Software ETC, in one of the many glorious malls that pockmark the New Jersey landscape like craters on the moon. In the age of the Sony Playstation and Sega Saturn consoles and faster CD-ROM enabled PCs, game developers took proliferation of CD-based gaming to the horror genre, some making legends (Resident Evil) and some making the next great B-movie (Ripper) with a host of washed up actors doing hammy roles in front of green screens.

I can't say that I ever remember playing Ripper, but it has stayed with me to this day. Why you ask? Was it the great performances by B-role actors like CHRISTOPHER WALKEN, BURGESS MEREDITH, KAREN ALLEN, DAVID PATRICK KELLY, JOHN RHYS-DAVIES, and JIMMIE WALKER? The awesome gameplay? The engaging storyline? No, it was the game trailer.

See, in the front window of our store were three TVs: two faced out to the mall and one faced into the store. They were hooked up to various game consoles and a VCR. One day the Take 2 Interactive representative came to the store (she was an aging hippie woman, kinda reminded me of a taller, fatter ZELDA RUBINSTEIN – I should have taken that as an omen) and handed me a VCR tape for their new "blockbuster" game called "Ripper." "CHRISTOPHER WALKEN is in it you know." Oh, I'll know. I'll know all too well.

So I grab the tape, slide it in the VCR and hit play. I hear one of my favorite Blue Oyster Cult songs, and what was one of my favorite songs of all time, "Don't Fear the Reaper." "Great," I thought to myself, "I love this song!" It was recently in my head as the great opening to THE STAND as the Captain Trips virus escapes. After sitting through the 3-4 minute trailer, I was more than happy to push this game to any unsuspecting shopper. Until…

You have to realize that these game trailer tapes would loop the same trailer over and over again. And over again. "Don't Fear the Reaper" became ingrained in my head, the trailer memorized. Even to this day, I remember some of the (crappy) dialog from the trailer. And thanks to YouTube, I and everyone else can relive this horror from 1996. (Enjoy "Ripping" this to shreds in the comments.)

A mix of a bad movie and LAWNMOWER MAN (wait, those are the same thing), this is a 6 CD-ROM opus that even CHRISTOPHER WALKEN couldn't make engaging. A review from 1996 called Ripper, "(T)he most disappointing game of 1996, " and said "(T)he script itself is full of predictably awful dialog that includes new and exciting uses of the F-word in any pivotal scene." Sounds like real B-movie fodder to me.

So I was 22 when this game trailer traumatized me, doesn't mean it was any less damaging than Mister Rogers. I can't enjoy "Don't Fear the Reaper" anymore. All I see is CHRISTOPHER WALKEN in a dickie hat and BURGESS MEREDITH blathering about something. (I just remembered that CHRISTOPHER WALKEN is reunited with this song on SNL with the iconic "More Cowbell!" Funny how life is cyclical.)

"All our times have come. Here but now they're gone…" The reaper can't come soon enough.

UNK SEZ: Walt, thanks for bringing this abomination to our attention. Since you were confronted with this nightmare while you were in college, it's not really technically Kindertraumatic material, but due to the presence of Kindertrauma legend DAVID PATRICK KELLY (Snakeman in DREAMSCAPE), it's certainly of high Kindertrauma interest. Besides, we know that somewhere out there there must have been a kid who played this and we're confident that their only reaction would be horror, confusion and debilitating ennui. Let's face it, whoever cast this thing knew that they were doing the Devil's bidding and any creation that can permanently sour a person to BLUE OYSTER CULT's "Don't Fear the Reaper" should be feared.