When I was a little kid, maybe only five or six, my parents signed me and my sister up for music lessons during the summer. It turned out that we were the only students. Everyday they’d drop us off at this old lady’s house and she’d take us down to her basement that was dimly lit and had tons of mirrors all over the place. Then she would make us put on these dusty old hand puppets and sing that weird song from Pocahontas. The same thing. Everyday. Down there in that creepy basement. And it had to be with those hand puppets.

I never realized until I started to explaining it to my friends as an adult just how fucking weird and creepy that sounds. So now whenever I see someone with a puppet I hear that song in my head, echoing off the walls in that dark sketchy basement.