Oh, Star Wars bobbleheads. I couldn’t have made it through all the difficulties of the last year without you.

First, it was losing Jenna in the accident. I’ll always regret that our last conversation was an argument. She told me to get rid of my Star Wars bobblehead collection. She said you guys creeped her out and I should sell you on eBay. Don’t hold it against her, but she never wanted me to buy you in the first place – especially both sets of six, so I’d have all 12 of you. Of course, I stuck up for you. We both said things we didn’t mean. Jenna stormed out and drove away. That’s when it happened. She didn’t get half a mile before her brakes went out. Your cheerful bobbling alien heads were my only consolation during those dark, dark days.

Then I lost my job. You remember: I’d been working all those hours getting that presentation ready. If I’d aced it and landed that account, I probably would’ve been promoted to head of marketing for the Midwestern division. That job would have left me even less free time to spend with my bobbleheads, but how could I pass up an opportunity like that? Well, you know how. By oversleeping that morning and missing the presentation completely. I still don’t get it. It’s almost as if someone had slipped me some kind of sedative the night before. And I’ve never seen an electrical cord spontaneously cut itself in half like the one on my alarm clock. Talk about bad luck. Of course, I got fired and had to move in with my Mom.

Things got even weirder after that. I’ll admit, it annoyed me that Mom was always on my case about how I needed to grow up and get rid of my “toys” (that’s what she called my Star Wars collectibles). But I never wanted anything so terrible to happen to her. I’ll never forget coming home and finding her on the floor of my room. That faraway stare in her eyes. That look of sheer horror on her face. That froth coming from her nose and mouth. Her hair had turned completely white and she couldn’t stop shaking. She hasn’t spoken since. The doctors still don’t know what happened. Once again, I sought comfort in you, my plastic soul mates.

And now, this latest incident. I just can’t fathom what kind of sick mind would break into the house and destroy my Star Trek collection in such disturbing ways. Bad enough that they defaced my Enterprise model with those swastikas and cartoon penises. But the action-figure dismemberment was even worse. And the smell coming from the lunchbox – I couldn’t bring myself to open it. Whoever it was, at least that psycho had the mercy not to mess with my Star Wars bobbleheads. I’m just thankful that I have you guys to help me through this scary world. There are some real monsters out there, you know?

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