The Pillow People reside in my living room. They're always there, but they don't move. They awaken from hibernation three or four times a year, and even then only when two conditions are met.
The first occurs when blue moonlight shines through the front window and hits them at just the right angle. It provides these unholy monstrosities with the lunar sustenance they require to animate their mouths.
The second condition occurs when my wife serves as their Dr. Frankenstein by straightening the room, and setting each face pillow atop the couch with a pair of larger torso pillows below them.
These soft beings with their quilted patterns bear the faces of my son and daughter from their younger years. Boy Pillow Person's head is a photo of my eight-year-old son's face, and Girl Pillow Person's head is my daughter in kindergarten. I'm not tricked by their pleasant smiles.
They sit there, side by side, waiting patiently for me to trudge downstairs in the wee hours. I prefer not to engage them because, upon getting my attention, they speak in voices that sound, respectively, like Peter Dinklage talking in an Australian accent and Robin Williams doing Mrs. Doubtfire. It's disturbing.
"Call us Boy Pee-Pee and Girl Pee-Pee when you write about us," says Boy Pillow Person.
"If you don't, you're a wicked monkey."
"Leave me alone," I tell them, and hurry down the hallway.
They can't follow because they have no limbs. But until I get my headphones on and start writing, I hear their taunts from the other room.
"Be nice to us, by crikey, or we won't throw ourselves underneath you when you inevitably trip down the stairs."
"We shan't protect your head, poppet."
"Neither of you can move on your own," I call back. "So I know you're lying. If I fall down the stairs there's nothing you can do but watch. The joke's on you."
"We love you," they chorus. "Come in here and let us hug you."
"You have no arms," I say. "I'm putting on my headphones now. La-la-la-la, I can't hear you…"
Sooner or later my dogs jump onto the couch and scatter their parts, and I don't have to listen to their lies for another few months.