Furbies are scary as fuck, here’s why
There are things in this world that tap into one’s innate fears. Beans in places that beans shouldn’t be, the demon that appears in your tub only when you close your eyes, that thing that crawls down your stairs at 3am and eats all the bruised apples in your fridge – all are things that make you scared.
And yet, not a single one of them comes even an inch close to the hair-clad nightmare-fuel abomination that is the Furby.
Introduced sometime in the early 2000s, the Furby was an animatronic toy that would do whatever you told it to do, so long as you included “Hey, Furby!” at the start of the command. If you didn’t say “Hey Furby!” then the little furry shit would retort to your request with venomous sassiness by saying “Me no listen.”
You think that’s bad? Complete insubordination from a non-A.I. source is pretty intimidating in of itself, but things go from 0 to 100 real quick when you discover how resilient a Furby is. One time my brother was commanding a Furby at our friend’s house. Time and time again, my brother shouted “Hey Furby!” with each repetition getting louder and louder. Finally, the yelling climaxed in my brother’s fist shooting forward with terrifying momentum and slammed the Furby in the stomach, knocking it backward. The Furby’s response to this? “Furby ouchie!”
I haven’t even mentioned the cult surrounding these things. I did a bit of undercover investigative journalism beforehand, and signed myself up for the cult known as “Transformative Hub of our Lord and Savior Furby.”
On the outside, it looks like any other silly toy-obsessed group. They all gather up in a group in a dark forest somewhere, each member possessing an individual Furby. They form a circle and set the Furby in front of them before a round platform. One participant enters the circle and places their Furby onto the platform.
The chosen individual ushers a command: “Hey Furby: approach the center!” The Furby does as it’s told, and the rest of the crowd speaks in a forbidden tongue I cannot describe. The chanting gets louder and the Furby does some sort of waddling dance. It’s eyes glow a bright green. The Furby’s body starts to extend, and it raises to the sky. A hole appears, and the Furby disappears into it, slithering like a haired snake.
As of this publication, “Transformative Hub of our Lord and Savior Furby” has had no recent activity. Something tells me they are waiting for the end times. That sacred moment of ascension when every Furby on planet Earth reveals their true forms and turns our planet into a Furby haven. Only time will tell.
