Dr. NoSleep

Welcome to Radio Shack, how can I assist you today?

I ask from behind the counter.

The guy, the father, looks up from his shoe gazing and nearly pierces me to the wall with a look in his eyes.

I need help, he says.

Great, what can I help you with?

The muscles next to his left eye twitch and his whole body tenses for a moment.

Then he relaxes, but only slightly, and he walks all the way to the front counter.

He slips a backpack from his shoulder and unzips it as he sets it on the counter.

Slowly, like he's handling a bomb or something, he pulls out one of our speak-and-spell knockoffs, the Spellmaster.

Although it's not really a knockoff since Texas Microtech actually makes both.

You wanted to take it apart and teach your son about the chipboard and the synth vocalizer and how to... It killed my boy!

He plops the red and orange plastic electronic toy onto the counter and roughly shoves it at me, either no longer afraid of the thing or upset enough that he doesn't care.

I clear my throat, look about the store to see if any other customers have slipped in without my noticing, which would be impossible considering the annoyingly loud door buzzer we have.

Then I return my attention to the guy.

I'm sorry, but did you say this killed your son?

I ask, keeping my hands free of the toy.

Yeah, it's possessed, and it talked him into doing something bad.

Very bad.

It killed him, and you're going to make it right.

A lump forms in my throat.