recursal/Fanatic-Fandom huggingface dataset:
Phantom Of The Clown

You have caught me fishing kiddies.  Your REVOLTING-READER, CREEPS, is a real HUCKLESCARY FINN Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha!  I have already caught a FISHY TALE, about a clown, who's really IN THE SPIRIT for JOLTING-JOKES...

Up, in Vermont, the moon came out over a small town, on a night back in the late Winter of 1935.  A little boy and girl wandered up the sidewalk downtown, together.  "Is that store haunted Christopher?" the girl asked the boy, pointing at an abandoned building.  "Yes, Sister" Christopher replied.  "By who or what?" Christopher's sister asked.  "By a clown.  He owned that store and was killed in there, when it caught on fire Anna!" Christopher explained to her.  "Wow!" Anna proclaimed.  She looked inside the store, as they passed it.  Suddenly, two older bullies showed up before Christopher and his sister.  "Got any cigarettes, kids?" they asked Christopher and Anna, pulling them both over to a brick wall.  "No" Christopher replied.  "Too bad!" the bullies said and shoved him and his sister down.  Anna began to cry and the bullies clenched their fists, ready to beat them up.

An apparition appeared in front of the children and the two bullies gasped.  It looked like a clown, wearing a bright-yellow suit, three purple pom-poms down its front and purple sleeves and a purple-collar.  The ghost's face had brown-paint on it, with a yellow-nose, yellow, painted-on smile and eerie, glowing-yellow eyes.  The clown shook his ghostly-head of purple hair back and forth, his ghostly-head being bald on top.  "We murdered you, when we both set your store on fire over there sir!!!" the bullies said to the phantom, with widened-eyes.  The phantom of the clown walked towards them, in big, green-shoes and giggled lowly.  "Yes, I am rather dead boys!" the ghost said.  He held a big thing of cotton-candy, with purple spots of color in his right-ghostly-yellow-gloved-hand.  "HOW ABOUT SOME FUN BOYS!" the phantom shouted at the bullies, as they smoked cigarettes.  The ghost of the clown put out their cigarettes with his ghostly-fingers.

The spirit then pulled an axe out of his collar and in the darkness, Christopher and Anna heard the ax slice through flesh twice.  The ghost of the clown stuck the axe back in his collar, turned around and handed the cotton-candy to Anna.  He helped her and Christopher to their feet.  "There you kids go!" the clown said.  "Thank you sir!" they mumbled.  Then, they saw the ghost start to juggle the shadowy-figures of two heads in the dark over and over chuckling away.  As Christopher and Anna ran passed him, they looked back and stopped, discovering that the phantom had disappeared.

Hee-Hee, looks like the ghost of that clown sure got AHEAD...OR TWO!  Well, those bullies found out the hard way that that phantom wasn't CLOWNING AROUND with them ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
Starfish Seahorse

**Release:** Fall 2014 - R3: Travel By Sea

**Print Theme:** Nautical, Animals, Fish

**Colors:**

\*NOTE: Complimentary Colors include colors used to accent the original print in certain items such as Swing Dresses, Stroller Blankets, etc.

**Styles:**

Bibs

Print Coverall

Print Long Sleeve Pajama Set

Ruffle Kimono Newborn Gift Set

Print Ruffle Knot Hat

Swaddling Blanket

Training Pant
Dance Pantsed (Powerpuff Girls 2014 Special)

### Story Summary

Wiiteen reviews a horrible Powerpuff Girls special. He criticizes it harshly until the Powerpuff Girls appear and beat him up. Wiiteen starts questioning if he should do reviews anymore until a void opens up and puts him inside of it.

### Thoughts on the Episode

The special is yet another terrible portrayal of the Powerpuff Girls. In this adaptation, it treats the three main characters as idiotic, cranky children with super powers. The plot and ending along with everything else is also very weak. Dance Pantsed was placed 11th in the Top 11 Worst W.H.A Episodes list.

### My Personal Thoughts

This is the first episode is the series to have a canonical plot line, other than the first two episodes.
A Letter From The Grave

Oh, it's you kiddies again!  Well, come on into my CASTLE and welcome hee-hee.  I was just CLEANING UP MY CREEPY-CRYPT down here in my DERANGED-DUNGEON.  Here, I have made you all some TASTY STEW out of someone named STEWART aha-ha-ha-ha-ha!  Now tonight's tale is lcontains a letter that is literally WRITTEN-ROTTENLY I entitle...

A woman walked into a tiny cemetery at night in November of 1909, over near Baltimore, Maryland.  She made it to a tombstone, and said looking at it, "good evening, Great Aunt Maude.  It is I, Muffy!  Eight years ago on this November night, my charming Husband Williard and I planned your murder.  We have made plenty of money from renting your home from then on.  Rest in peace now!!".  Muffy walked off, and the hot-wind blew across her Great Aunt Maude's tombstone.

Muffy went into a nice big cottage by the graveyard in the countryside.  On Great Aunt Maude's grave, appeared a letter.  An hour later, a man came into the kitchen of the cottage, seeing Muffy.  "Sweetheart, I just found this letter out, in the cemetery on your Great Aunt's grave" he explained to her.  The letter read as they both took a look at it: "I am coming this evening, Muffy my dear.  ~Great Aunt Maude".  "Why, now who would play a nasty trick of a joke like that Willard??" Muffy asked the man.  "Oh, probably just some kids Muffy" Willard replied, kissing her on the cheek.  As Willard sat down in a chair in front of a fireplace, he tossed the letter in the fire, opening a book and reading in the parlor.  He drank a bottle of wine.  In the glow of the fire, the shadows of skeletal-hands reached out from behind the shadow of Willard in the chair, grabbing the shadow of his neck, and choking him to death.

Muffy finished making pie crust in the kitchen at the counter, and heard a slight-shuffle into the kitchen.  "Willard is that you dear?" she asked and turned around.  A skeleton in a black shawl and dress stood there, with maggots seeping out of its rotting-eye sockets.  "I wrote that I was coming this evening dear" the zombie cackled in an old lady's voice.  "GREAT AUNT MAUDE?????" Muffy screamed, as worms squeezed in between the zombie's decayed-teeth and into her mouth, which oozed black bile.

The zombie of Great Aunt Maude cackled wildly, jamming her boney-digits into Muffy's eyes, squeezing the bones deep, into Muffy's eye-sockets, killing her.

Well, Willard didn't seem to NOTE-TICE the zombie of Great Aunt Maude even though he read her NASTY NOTE ha-ha-ha-ha.  He just got ALL CHOKED UP when she arrived.  At least Great Aunt Maude didn't need a GHOST WRITER to her letter for her.  Why, she DECOMPOSED IT ON HER OWN aha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
A Call From Japan

Hello BOILS AND GHOULS!  HEH-HEH.  Our TALE OF TATTERED-TERROR GORE THIS EVENING, is rather GORE-EIGN I mean FOREIGN ha-ha.  So let's all wait by the TELE-MOAN and wait for...

It rained lightly against the teenage girl's bedroom-window, as she laid in her bed in September, 1970.  It was the twilight-hour there in Pennsylvania, and "Crimson And Clover" By Tommy James & The Shondells was playing on a record on a record-player in her room.  She was a hippie and laid in bed, observing her lava lamp.  Then, the sound of the telephone rang from downstairs.

It rang twelve times and the young hippie went to the phone.  "Hello" she answered and the noises of a child gasping were heard on the phone.  "Hello?  Hey, man, if this is some far-out prank, it's not groovy!" the hippie spoke and hung up.  Immediately, the phone rang for the second time.  She answered it again.  "Hello" she said a second time and the gasping of the kid on the phone was more louder than before.  "I am not digging this man!" the hippie stated clearly and hung up.  She heard the gasping of the child within her house, somewhere then.

The teenage hippie went to her dark-kitchen and there, the noise grew more intense.  A dead-shape of a child stood in the light that shone through the kitchen-window.  It was a ghostly and sickening-color of paleblue, having eyes that were solid-black.  It was a ghostly-Japanese boy, dressed in a red-slimy-robe.  He stared blankly at the girl, gasping.  Then the phantom held up a red, slimy, human skull and spoke in English to her: "this what happen to your Ex-Boyfriend for cheating on you.  I made telephone call here from Japan, when you answer, old Japanese Ghost Curse came on Ex-Boyfriend!".  Then the ghost was suddenly enveloped in the darkness and was gone.

   Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha, it looks like the hippie's Cheating AX-BOYFRIEND really ran outta SLIME when that FOREIGN-PHANTOM got him.  The hippie used such FOUL LANGUAGE on him when she CURSED HIM aha-ha-ha-ha!
The Banjo-Player

Hee-Hee, hello kiddies.  Well, It's another one of those days of SLAYING music!  Heh-Heh, yes, one of those heartwarming SCARE-A-NADE'S on the old BILELIN!  So, while I FIDDLE AROUND with my violin lesson, enjoy this MAGGOT-COVERED MASTERPIECE...

In the summer of 1891, a little girl was singing, "Jimmy Crack Corn", in the backwoods of southern-Georgia, one day.  She walked down to a river, seeing a young boy sitting on the riverbank.  The boy wore a pair of red-suspenders, with a white shirt underneath, along with a straw-hat on.  "Howdy!!" the girl said to him, getting close to him.  The boy looked over and up, replying, "howdy!!" to her.  He smiled up, at her, with silver-fangs of razor-sharpness.  He played: "Jimmy Crack Corn" on a banjo, as he stared up, at the girl, with his glowing-white eyes.  The banjo-player growled in a low-tone and the girl saw he was some sort of monster.

She screamed in fear and ran off.  That evening, the little girl was in a cabin, brushing the hair of her female doll, as she sat on her bed.  Suddenly, she heard a slight sound of a banjo playing to the tune of, "Jimmy Crack Corn" outside her open, bedroom-window.  She ran downstairs and out the cabin-door, quickly.  The girl followed the melody down to the river.  She found the banjo-player, strumming his banjo again, on the same riverbank in the moonlight.  She stopped a few feet away from the creature and shivered in fear a bit.  As the banjo-player played, the monster looked over at her, as a sound of a loud-crack was heard, as he turned his head.  The monster grinned at the girl, with a grinning-face and a  mouth full of the same, razor-sharp, silver-fangs.  "Howdy!!" the banjo-player called to her, gazing at her with his glowing-white eyes and then growled deeply.  Long, darkened-claws shone in the moonlight on the banjo-player's hands.  The girl screamed and ran back to the cabin.  A young man was outside the cabin and hugged her, tightly.  "Maggie, are y'all alright Daghter???" he asked the girl.  "Yes, Papa, I saw a monster down, on the riverbank!!!" Maggie replied.  "Be careful, there be an old, old legend of a monster in the form of a banjo-player down around there.  My Grandpa told me it first appeared, when he was a boy and sir it" Maggie's father explained to her, drinking a bottle of Bourbon.

Hee-Hee, looks like little Maggie didn't FIDDLE around with that banjo-player for very long.  I wonder if that old monster knows how to play the old song, MOON SHIVER hee-hee-hee!
Fire Phantom

My SICKENING-STEW is almost done.  It contains a combination and mixture of EYEBALLS, EARS and NOSES heh-heh-heh-heh-heh!  But our MAIN CORPSE, Kiddies, is a little FEAR-FABLE, entitled...

One night back in 1934, there was a small girl, who sang, "Mary Had A Little Lamb" in a carbin in the wilderness of southern-Minnesota.  She was carrying a female doll and walked down the steps, looking over at the fireplace.  She stared at it, magically-making a fire appear in it.  The girl smiled.  Outside, a couple of kids, two girls and two boys, ran up to one of the cabin-windows.  "There's the ghost of the girl, everyone!!" one told the other ones.  They all looked in on the girl, with her bright-red skin, her red, short, curly-hair,  green-dress, tap-dance shoes and socks up her legs.  She finished singing and stared into the fire with glowing-yellow pupils.  "Some bigger kid set this cabin on fire three years ago.  The girl's folks got out with their dog, but the girl got trapped and died unfortunately.  She had a power called telekinesis my Pa said" the same boy explained to the other kids.  "That is quite a story Adam" the other boy said to him.  "Yep it is, Glenn" Adam agreed with him.

The ghost of the small girl in the cabin vanished, fading out.  Adam, Glenn and the girls gasped in fright and Adam led them all inside the abandoned-place.  "The fire's still going!" one of the girls said.  "Yeah, Lucile" Glenn said to her.  A teenager boy entered the cabin.  "Who are you? the other girl asked the teenager.  "Name's Rod, shrimp!" the teenage bully replied.  "Hey, don't call my Friend, Cathy a shrimp" Lucile said to the bully.  "Shut the heck up kid or I'll burn you to death like I did to that other girl here" the teenager replied.  "We're going to the cops you!" Adam said to him.  "Oh, really?" the bully laughed, lighting a match and put it to near an old, burned-curtain.  Suddenly, the sound of giggling was heard, and the phantom of the small girl materialized with her doll on the steps.  The bully spied the spirit and gasped in surprise.  "Hello.  You retuned.  Well, bad thing for you, I shall use my telekinesis on you now" the phantom said to him.  It magically and powerfully-made the lit-match fly out of the bully's hand and catch his shirt on fire.  The bully screamed, dropping to the floor, but the fire phantom made the fire in the fireplace soar out of it and fall on top of him.  The kids watched gasping, as the bully screamed and screamed, being burned to death.  The fire phantom looked at the flaming-body and magically-made the fire go out.  As she stared at the charred-corpse on the floor with her glowing-yellow pupils, she smiled and giggled some more.  Adam, Glenn, Lucile and Cathy turned and looked up, at the ghost, seeing her disappear, as she eerily-laughed.

Well, Kiddies, it looks like the little fire phantom really was all FIRED UP about things heh-heh.  At least she reunited her murderer with AN OLD FLAME, even though he ended up GETTING BURNED ON THAT DEAL hee-hee.
THE GLOB

Hello again kiddies.  Would you like some jelly on a SLICE OF GHOST?  It's good with some COUNTRY CROAK BUTTER on it too heh-heh-heh-heh-heh.  Speaking of jelly, here's a STICKY-STORY about a teenager who gets into quite a JAM called...

There was a farm out in the country of southwestern-Illinois one evening back in 1962.  A little boy was out feeding the chickens in the barnyard, when something big and light-blue came flying down, from up, in the starry-sky.  It landed in the grass at the edge of the cornfield and the boy ran to it.  He saw it was a huge light-blue glob wiggling and writhing in the grass.  "Hey, Pa!" the boy called out, loudly.  The glob crawled off, into the cornfield and the kid ran into his farmhouse.  The following day, the boy saw a teenage bully come over from the other farmhouse next door.  "Howdy, Douglas you jerk!" the teenage bully said to the boy.  "Oh, hello Andrew" Douglas replied, glumly.  "How would you like to drink some milk?!" Andrew asked Douglas, yanking the pail of milk out of his hand and pouring it on his head.  As Andrew laughed, he pushed Douglas down and ran back to his farmhouse.  That evening, Douglas walked outside to the cornfield and looked around in it.  He saw the light-blue glob and saw that it had grown sharp-white teeth, along with a huge, black-mouth in the center of it.  The thing made low-pitched gurgling noises being an alien monster.  Little Douglas screamed and ran.  The following morning, he walked out onto his front porch.  "Mornin' Pa" Douglas said to a young man sitting in a rocking-chair, gulping a bottle of Jim Beam Whiskey down.  "Mornin' Douglas Son!" Douglas's father replied with a smile and hugged him.  When Douglas went over onto Andrew's farm then, the bully saw him from inside the barn and raced after him.  "You are dead for coming over here on my Pa's farm you little freak!" Andrew shouted, swinging a switch-blade knife.  They made it into the cornfield and as Andrew pursued Douglas, the glob caught his foot in its pointed-teeth.  Douglas watched from a distance, as the alien monster devoured Andrew whole, as Andrew screamed.  The glob gnawed and sucked on Andrew's flesh, dissolving it in its gelatinous-body.  Andrew's screams grew quiet, as he grew dead within the life-sucking monster.  Douglas could see Andrew's skeleton being slowly dissolved within the monster, and the glob gurgled wildly, digesting Andrew's bones in its jelly-like membrane of a body.  Then, Douglas watched the glob crawl and slither into the grass and disappear.

Hee-Hee, well, wasn't that quite a FIELD OF SCREAMS boys and girls?  Little Douglas knew he had Andrew COVERED, when he led him into the cornfield!  But, Andrew thought the glob SUCKED, but rather got quite ATTACHED TO IT in the end heh-heh-heh-heh-heh.
Cake

Greetings kiddies, I see you have come HACK to my CASTLE eh?  This SLIME, I am baking a cake.  It would be absolutely to DIE for, if I wasn't already DEAD hee-hee-hee!  In fact, this shriek's tale, is about a baker, who finally gets to finish his CREEPY-CONFECTION...

Back in 1875, in New England, an old woman walked to a graveyard.  She sat down on the ground, before a grave which read, "R.I.P. BENJAMIN D. EDWARDS 1784-1874" on it.  "Hello Father, I want you to know that I have made your bakery shop quite successful and I hope you are quite proud of me and your Grandchildren.  They work hard in it each day" she said, looking at the tombstone.  She held a small bunch of blue flowers and placed them by the tombstone, leaving.

That evening, as the full moon rose up in the cold, night-sky, the old woman was in a house, in the kitchen.  "That ham dinner smells mighty good Isabelle!" an older lady and old man told her, coming into the kitchen.  "Thank you Mother and Henry darling" Isabelle replied, smiling.  "I remember your Father was decorating a cake, when he suddenly died!" Isabelle's mother told her.  "He never got to finish decorating it" she finished.

The front door creaked open and slammed shut.  Slow footsteps moved through the hallway, towards the kitchen.  Henry drank a glass of wine and said: "someone is here".  The oil-lamps blew out in the kitchen and Henry grabbed a lit-candle, as a tall figure entered the kitchen.  Shining the candle on it, the figure was a corpse, in a ragged-suit, dirt-covered, with worms squirming in its eye sockets.  The zombie was also a rotting skeleton and it held a vanilla cake, topped with red-slime oozing over it, on a platter.  Everyone screamed.  "It is I, Benjamin.  Isabelle, Henry and Mary my dear, I have finished the cake I started in my bakery when I died!!" the zombie moaned in a rotted-voice.

Looks like ol' Benjamin was quite DEAD-ON with his baking ha-ha!  Well, I guess that SCREAM-STORY just TAKES THE CAKE eh?  Well, SCARE to try my own cake kiddies?  It's quite the CONFECTIONSCARY Ha-Ha-Ha!!
Styles

On this page, you'll find a list of the styles released by Kickee. Eventually, we hope to have a comprehensive list of which styles are/were available in each print and release, and which styles are discontinued.

## **Blankets**

Strollers - Non-Ruffle

Strollers - Ruffle

Swaddles

Throws

Toddlers - Non-Ruffle

Toddlers - Ruffle

Customs

Clothing

## **Gender Neutral**

Coveralls

Footies

Two-Pieces

T-Shirts

Onesies

Layette Gowns

Converters

Kimono Sets

## **Boys**

Raglan Rompers

Polo Rompers

Kangaroo Rompers

Hooded Coveralls

Hooded Shirts

Polo Coveralls

Polo Shirts

Polo Shirts - Applique

Solid Shorts - Cargo

Solid Cargo Pants

## **Girls**

Baby Doll Set – Long Sleeve

Baby Doll Set – Short Sleeve

Cord Dress with Long Sleeve

Cord Skirt

Denim Jackets

Fleece Dress

Gathered Dress

Hi-Lo Maxi Dresses

Hi-Lo Tops

Layered Ruffle Skirts

Leggings - Heart Buttons

Leggings - Ruffles

Long Sleeve Flower Dress

Long Sleeve Flower Dress

Long Sleeve Ruffle Dress

Peter Pan Collared One-Piece

Pleated Dress

Poof Romper

Poof Skirt

Ruffle Coveralls

Ruffle Footies

Ruffle Jeans

Ruffle Kimono Sets

Ruffle Pants

Ruffle Romper

Ruffle Shorts

Ruffle Sleep Sack

Ruffle Tee – Long Sleeve

Ruffle Tee – Short Sleeve

Ruffle-Butt Shorts

Short Sleeve Flower Dress

Sweetie Pie Rompers

Swing Dresses
(New-Style/Key-Hole)

Swing Dresses
(Old-Style/No Key-Hole)

Tulle Ice-Cream Dress

Twirl Dress

Velour Long Dress

Wing Romper

Woven Party Dress

Woven Peasant Dress

Woven Peasant Top

Woven Sundress

## **Accessories**

Basic Tights

Bibs

Bows

Boxer-Briefs

Hats - No Ruffle

Hats - Ruffle

Headbands

Lovies

Ruffle Tights

Socks

Tanks

Trainers

Underware

####

## **Women**

Pajamas

Hi-Low Gowns

Night Shirts

Ruffle Gowns

Two-Piece Long Sleeve Pajama Sets

Two-Piece Tank Pajama Sets

Tops

"One" Tee - Long-Sleeve

"One" Tee - Short-Sleeve

Puff-Sleeve Tees

## **Men**

Boxer-Briefs

Basic Tee

## **Pets**

Dog Bandana

Dog Tee
Going Camping

There you are BOILS & GHOULS!  I have a TERROR-TALE thet's FOREST OF THE ISSUE ha-ha-ha.  It's called...

Three boys were in a tent together, out, in the woods of northern-Kentucky, back in 1970 one night.  As they ate hot dogs, a transistor radio played, Crimson And Clover By Tommy James & The Shondells.  "Yeah, I love this song man" one boy told the two others.  "Yeah I dig it too, Peter" another boy agreed with him.  "Yeah, Ed, it's groovy.  Get ready for some Cards!" Peter replied, shuffling a deck of cards.  "Any ghost stories for tonight guys?" the last boy asked Ed and Peter.  "Y'all have any Andy?" Ed asked him.  "Yes, from my Pa" Andy confirmed.  "Well, it's not a ghost story, but it's a tall tale of a monster in these here woods.  My Pa encountered it when he was fifteen years old!" Andy continued, explaining.   "Was it one of those Sasquatches?" Peter asked.  "Nope" he said.  There was a sound of a banjo playing: "Oh My Darling Clementine" nearby and Ed turned off the transistor radio.  He, Andy and Peter looked outside and saw an old man on a log by a campfire, with the banjo strumming away.  They wandered over to him.  "Howdy, boys, y'all goin' campin' too eh?" the old man asked Peter, Andy and Ed, stopping his banjo-playing.  "Howdy, yes sir.  We were just gettin' to the spooky stories" Ed said.  "Oh, is that right?  The ol' legend about the slimy-monster in these here woods no doubt!" the old man proclaimed.  "Yes sir, my Pa witnessed it when he was fifteen" Andy said.  "Oh he did?!  Well, I have encountered it too boys.  Squishing around when it walks, 'cause it enjoys the crick here!" the old man told them, then had a swig of moonshine from a bottle.

Later on that night, the boys slept and Andy woke, hearing the squishing-noise by the tent.  "Guys wake up, come on!" he whispered shaking his friends awake.  Ed, Andy and Peter gazed out their tent, seeing a frog-like thing as tall as an average man in the grass.  Its light-green skin was glowing in their lit-lanterns, the creature peering at them with blackened-eyes.  Its webbed-hands and feet bearing claws, and the monster extending one clawed-hand, roaring-lowly at the boys.  They noticed its yellowish-fangs were like needles and the monster oozed a black-slime out of its mouth, splashing it on the screaming-boys.  The frog-monster fled as they wiped their faces off.  The boys got back inside their tent, zipping it up.  Meanwhile, the monster stepped into a body-suit of the old man, zipping it up.  The old man chuckled away.

Well, that's it for this IS-SPEW OF CREEPS CASTLE...with the monster SPEWING hee-hee-hee-hee-hee!  The old man really had a FROG IN HIS THROAT aha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
THE PURSUIT

Ha-Ha!  Aha-ha, hello BOILS AND GHOULS, I, CREEPS, see GORE in the mood for more HORROR.  A WORMING-WELCOME to ISSUE FORTY-FOUR OF CREEPS CASTLE!  Yep, this TERRIFYING-TREAT shall WRAP YOU ALL UP literally heh-heh!  So feel free to call your MUMMIES at the ROT MOMENT that is.  Because you just FRIGHT BE PURSUED by this old Egyptain zombie who's on...

In Egypt, there were two archeologists who were in a pyramid way back in 1905.  The archeologists silently read some ancient scrolls by some ancient jars of clay, and a thief got into the opened-pyramid.  "Well, these ancient scrolls are worth a lot, Frank" one archeologist said to the other.  "Yes indeed they are Bruce.  What a prize they shall be back in America as well" Frank agreed with the first one and smiled at him.  Frank and Bruce turned and saw the thief coming to them.  "Pardon me sir, but this is one of the thousands of great, ancient tombs of this country.  Do you have credentials to come in here?" Bruce inquired of the thief.  "Oh, um, yes sir.  My name is Walter and I arrived on the ship you did" he replied, introducing himself to Bruce.  "Ah, I see.  You must be from one of the other museums back in America sir.  Nice to make your acquaintance" Bruce said, shaking hands with Walter.  "This is my Partner and Friend Frank sir" Bruce introduced Walter to.  Frank and Walter shook hands.  "Nice to meet you sir" they said to each other.

"Now, if you would excuse me, I need you gentlemen to kindly step aside please" Walter ordered the other men.  He then held a pistol up.  "You are a thief sir!" Frank proclaimed, surprised.  "Very wise sir" he answered and fired the gun at a wall.  Frank and Bruce gasped in fright, flinching.  Walter stole the jars of clay and fled quickly."Those clay jars were the royal possessions of the Great King Tut" Bruce told Frank.  All of a sudden, a gold-coffin against a wall opened and an old zombified-mummy emerged from within it, in an ancient-shroud of white.  "KING TUT!!!!!!" Bruce and Frank screamed in terror at the mummy, with its rotting-bandages over its skeletal-face.  It made a moaning-sound and wailed in its deep and dead-voice, moving with its ancient bones cracking every step.  The mummy ermerged from its pyramid.

Walter rode off on a horse and lit a pipe.  As he smoked, the zombie of King Tut picked up an ancient scythe and wandered away in the sunlight.  That evening, Walter was at a camp alone, drinking a bottle of wine.  He saw the shoadowy-mummy pursuing him.  "What in the world?!?" he said and got inside his tent.  The mummy got to his tent and in the firelight, it removed its shroud.  The zombie got into the tent and swung the scythe at the screaming-Walter, causing the sound of his head being cut off to be heard in the darkness.  As the zombie rode Walter's horse away in its shroud with the sack of its jars, the mummy held a jar, and crammed the silhouette of a brain into it, while moaning.

Hee-Hee-Hee-Hee.  That was quite a SLICE UP wouldn't you SLAY boys and girls?  Poor Walter shouldn't have left the pyramid open A JAR!  Since he had his MIND SET on them, he ended up having his MIND in one aha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
THE SCARE-TAKER

Welcome to my DERANGED-DUNGEON down, underneath my CASTLE girls and boys.  I, CREEPS, ave a LITTLE NASTY-NUGGET for you all TO-FRIGHT!  This GOREY I just literally DUG UP.  So, SHOVEL OVER HERE, and take a SHRIEK at this DEAD-ON TALE I call...

Up in New England, a young man sipped a glass of wine in his mansion, as he glanced out, at the falling-snow from his parlor-window, back in the late Winter of 1911.  It was evening and a fire crackled in the parlor-fireplace.  The young man finished his wine, and walked out, into his hallway.  An old man carried a pail of coal in the hall.  "Truman, it is about time.  Hand me that blasted coal now!" the young man ordered the old man angrily.  "Oh, yes, Mr. Richland sir!" Truman said, feebly.  Mr. Richland grabbed the pail out of Truman's grasp and dumped the coal on the fire in the fireplace. "As the care-taker of my humble abode here, you are rather old, washed-up and useless Truman" Mr. Richland told him.  Truman came into the parlor and replied: "I do greatly apologize if you do feel that way sir.  I try my absolute best!".  "Not any longer you blasted sack of waste!  You are hereby fired!" Mr. Richland said angrily.  "But Mr. Richland sir, I have nowhere else to stay at or go!" Truman pleaded, but without a a word, Mr. Richland forced him out the double-doors.  Later that night, the snow continued to fall outside of the parlor-windows.  Mr. Richland read "Hamlet By William Shakespeare" seated by the fire in his chair.

The doorbell rang suddenly, and Mr. Richland answered it, finding Truman trembling on his stoop.  "Please Mr. Richland sir, I am catching quite a cold out here!!" Truman begged.  Mr. Richland grabbed a pistol from a small table, shot and killed him.  "There!  Now you won't be bothering me any longer, Truman!" Mr. Richland said.  A year later, Mr. Richland satat his dining-room table, eating a plate of ham one night. He poured a glass of wine and drank it.  A grandfather-clock in the dining room chimed: "9:00p.m." and Mr. Richland looked over at it, then went to the dining room-window.  "Looks rather too cold this evening" Mr. Richland said to himself.  A half hour later, he was upstairs in bed, still awake.  He heard footsteps in his bedroom and saw the windows burst-open.  He sat up and a dead-grey-hand clutched his throat.  It was Old Truman, now a decaying-zombie in his old, blue suit and bow tie.  Mr. Richland's eyes grew wide, as he peered into the zombie's blackened and rotting-eye sockets, as worms crawled through the corpses longer hair of white.  The zombie of Truman smiled with yellowish-green, decaying-teeth, and quietly jerked Mr. Richland's throat, snapping his neck and murdering him.  From outside, the bedroom-windows slammed shut suddenly.

Aha-ha-ha-ha, Truman sure had a FRIGHT GRIP ON THE SITUATION eh, Kiddies?  As for Mr. Richland, it was quite a SNAP for him in the end there eh?  Heh-Heh-Heh-Heh!
Winter Rose Polar Bear

**Release:** Fall 2014 - R2: Family Winter Holiday

**Print Theme:** Seasonal, Animals

**Colors:**

\*NOTE: Complimentary Colors include colors used to accent the original print in certain items such as Swing Dresses, Stroller Blankets, etc.

**Styles:**

Print Long Sleeve Swing Dress

Training Pant

 \*\*Note: This print and the items associated with it were a special release after the original release of the original line.
Crybaby Bridge

This LURID-LEGEND, Kiddies, is quite a WATERED-DOWN TALE hee-hee-hee.  So, take a GRUESOME GANDER at what a man sees in the river, that gives him FRIGHT A SHIVER heh-heh...

Back in 1890, in Doylestown, Ohio, there was a young lady who walked up, out of a hollow, carrying a baby in a black blanket in her arms one night in October.  It was raining and the woman approached a bridge.  With the baby crying, she stopped on the bridge in the rain, looking down, into the river below.  Heaving, the lady dropped the child into the water, as it cried and wailed in fright, killing it.  The woman wandered over to one end of the bridge, slipping in a muddy area and screamed, as she fell down, into the river, hitting the side of her head on rocks, being killed.

Three years later, a gentleman wandered onto the bridge from down in the hollow, with a bottle of Jack Daniel's Whiskey in hand one Autumn-evening.  He stopped and took a swig of whiskey, and coughed hard.  Then very quietly, he heard the distinct sound of a baby crying.  The gentleman glanced around, and noticed a baby down, in the river underneath the bridge.  The child had large glowing-white eyes and its skin was dead and grey-white.  In its brown blanket, the baby reached out of the chilly-waters, with its ghostly-hand that was shining-white.  The gentleman gasped and shrieked in horror and as the baby cried away, it vanished being a ghost.  The gentleman screamed some and ran.  The spirit of the child's mother materialized, dead-white-flesh, in a white dress, with long, dark hair.  The phantom's eyes were solid-black, and she groaned and waiiled, seeing the gentleman run.  As the fallen, colorful-leaves blew and rustled, the ghost of the woman shrieked loudly and vanished on the bridge.

They call the SCARE-REA, CRYBABY BRIDGE, and that gentleman sure got a SCREAM ABOVE THE STREAM, eh?  Serves the child's Mother right for what she did, when she SLIPPED UP and had her FALL IN THE FRIGHT SEASON OF AUTUMN Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha!
THE DEAD HERMIT OF SIMMONS STREET

I see you have CREPT INTO THE CRYPT of my CASTLE once more, kiddies heh-heh.  Tonight's tale is about a HOME ON THE SCARY, when two teenagers discover that the HOMEGROANER  is rather ROTTEN ha-ha!  I call it...

"There it is Reed, the home on Simmons Street here!" a teenage boy said to another, standing in front of an old, abandoned house in southwest-Canada, in the spring of 1962.  "The house belonged to a hermit who kept to himself a lot.  His next-door neighbor found him dead one night" the teenager continued, explaining.  "Well what's in there, Jack?" Reed asked him.  "Who knows man.  We outta check it out" Jack responded.

"Alright dude, come on" Reed said and he and Jack crept up, onto the front porch, seeing old curtains inside the windows.  Jack got out his pocket-knife prying the door open with it, and the teens entered the darkened-home.  They flicked on their flashlights and walked through old garbage and newspapers strewn across the floors.  Jack and Reed lit cigarettes and smoked, exploring the place more.  The furniture was enveloped in cobwebs, and two rats chewed on garbage by the old fireplace.  "There's nothing in this old place man.  Let's just go" Reed told Jack.  "Yeah, guess not, Reed" he agreed.

Jack left the home, and before Reed walked out, there was a pounding on a side door in the house.  Reed turned around, seeing the door begin to shake violently, and two rotted-hands slid out of the crack, as the door started to open.  The door fully burst-open, and a decaying-corpse stumbled out towards Reed.  Reed ran out of the home, running directly into Jack in the yard.  "What the heck man?!" Jack proclaimed.  "Sorry, somebody's in there!!" Reed exclaimed in fright.  The zombie stumbled out, onto the porch, with its long, ratty-hair of blonde, his decaying-flesh a pinkish-color, dressed in old rags.  "HOLY CRAP!!!!" Jack and Reed screamed.  The dead hermit staggered into his old yard, peering into the teenager's faces, with his eyeless-sockets, his left one having a little red-light glowing in it.

The zombie no longer had a nose, just a misshapen-nose-hole.  "Welcome to my home boys.  I don't have visitors often on Simmons Street!" the dead hermit croaked in a whispery-voice, as blue-colored slime oozed from its decayed-mouth.  The zombie held blu-slimy human-organ and bit into it, as Jack and Reed ran.

That experience was a bit DECAYDING I mean degrading hee-hee-hee.  That zombie was waiting for the DAILY GHOSTMAN to show up, but was pleased to have Reed and Jack stop by to bring a little LIFE INTO HIS HOUSE aha-ha-ha-ha-ha!  The hermit picked the ROT DAY to have visitors too ha-ha-ha-ha.
Dead Poet's Society

Hee-Hee, I was just going through my CLASS-SICK-CAL LITERATURE kiddies.  Would you prefer me to read you a CLASSIC SLAY from WILLIAM SHAKESFEAR, or a riveting poem from DEADGAR ALLEN POE?  Oh, so you would just like tonight's DEADTIME STORY, about a GORE-GANIZATION, that prefers the Old Classic, I call...

Back in the early-Winter of 1906, there was a cottage up, in southwestern-Canada out, in the wilderness one evening.  A teenage girl wandered through the woods, knocking on the door of the cottage.  The door of the cottage was answered by a person with a black shawl over a white long and flowing dress, with a gray hood on.  "Oh, good evening, Child, may I help you?" the person asked the teenage girl, in a lady's voice.  "Good evening ma'am, um, yes.  Is this Dead Poet's Society?" the teenage girl replied, asking.  "Why, yes my Child.  Come in please" the woman invited her.  "Thank you ma'am!" the girl replied, smiling and going inside the cottage.

It was all dimly-lit by candles and lanterns on shelves and tables around the living room of the cottage.  "This here is a very tiny society young lady.  We read from our favorite Poet, Edgar Allen Poe.  Welcome, you may have a seat anywhere!" the woman explained to the teenager, welcoming her, kindly.  "Thank you" she said, finding a chair at one of the tables.  The lady handed the girl a book of Poems By Edgar Allen Poe and sat across the candle-lit table from her.  The lady held her own copy of the book and they both opened and the woman began reading: "Annabelle Lee" out loud.  She finished the poem and said to the girl, "you can choose one, dear".  "Alright.  How about I read this one?" the teenager asked, pointing to another one.  "The Pit And The Pendulum" she said, grinning.  "An interesting poem my dear.  Go right ahead" the woman answered.  The girl read the poem out loud, and when she was done, the lady revealed her face in the candle-light.  "We, like the poets we love in this group, are also dead Child!" the woman said to the teenager.  The lady was missing her eyes.  Huge, dark-black holes of eye sockets gazed at the girl.  The teenager gasped and screamed in terror at the zombie.  Then she saw a phantom appear at another table.  The specter was of another lady, and she wore a gleaming-dress of dark-blue.  The ghost of the lady had glowing, deadly-white skin, appearing quite misty and transparent a little bit.  The teenage girl screamed, jumping up.  Worms and maggots began squirming out of the zombie's rotted-out eye-sockets and dead-mouth as she laughed.  The ghost of the lady scratched her ghostly-hair of grey and stared over at the living-corpse, with her solid-black eyes.  "Oh, good Sylvia my Friend, we have a guest in your old cottage this evening!" the apparition said to the zombie.  "Yes, Penelope" the zombie of Sylvia replied to the phantom, standing at the other table.  The teenager dropped the book on the table, racing out of the cottage in quite a hurry.

That poetic group was rather DEAD-ON wasn't it boys and girls?  At least, Sylvia was trying ZOMBIE a good host OF CORPSE Ha-Ha-Ha!!  Penelope was in FINE SPIRIT too hee-hee!
THE WITCH ON THE FARM

Hee-Hee, hello Kiddies.  Welcome to the THIRTEENTH EDITION OF CREEPS CASTLE!  I just was busy checking out the ol' farm.  The crops have really GROAN this FEAR heh-heh-heh-heh.  Speaking of farms, here's a tale of terror, about a haunted one...

It was back in October of 1827, that there was a farm up, in New England, where a young farmer was chopping some wood, with an axe.  A young boy was walking from the barn, carrying a bucket of milk.  "Jacob, come here me Son please!" the young farmer called to the boy.  The boy did.  "It 'tis about time to learn how to chop wood me boy" Jacob's father said to him.  "Yes Father" Jacob said, putting down the bucket of milk.  That night, young Jacob was upstairs in his bedroom of the farmhouse, when he sat up in bed, seeing a figure outside his window.

It was an apparition of a young girl.  The ghost wore a purple dress and bonnet, having dark-skin and glowing-white lips.  Jacob looked into her glowing-white eyes and screamed in fright.  The phantom screeched in a high-pitched tone, that seemed to echo and disappeared.  That next morning, Jacob walked out to the barn, among the chickens in the barnyard.  He entered the barn and shined a lit-lantern around in the darkness.  As he moved passed the cows and horses, he shined his lit-lantern on a figure in the coner of the barn.  It was a skeleton in a purple dress and bonnet, sitting against the barn-wall.  Jacob screamed out, seeing the corpse.  "That twas me, Jacob!" a little girl's voice called to him.  Jacob gasped and shined his lit-lantern onto the spirit of the young girl who he saw the night before.  She stood holding an iron-pot of green-liquid.  "I apologize for frightening ye, Jacob.  I am now a phantom.  I lived on this farm forty long years ago, but died of pneumonia, right over there in that corner.  Me Mother and Father moved on with me Brother!" "Me Mother was a witch and taught me to be one also!" the ghost of the girl explained to young Jacob.  "Here 'tis me soup of incense and other magical-ingrediients that we used.  It shall make you hop and jump over buildings!" the ghost of the witch told Jacob.  She handed him the pot and grinning, made black-slime ooze out of her mouth, as she screeched again, in the same high-pitched tone, vanishing.  Young Jacob screamed again, sipping some of the magical-soup out of the little iron-pot.  He went outside, blew out his lantern and magically-jumped over the barn.  As the boy turned around and looked in a barn-window, he saw the ghostly-witch again, smiling out, at him, vanishing once more revealing her dead-skeleton to peer out the window.

Young Jacob sure got a JUMP-START on the farm eh, kiddies?  He surely BRIGHTENED THE GIRL'S SPIRIT!  Ha-Ha!  Well, the next time he goes into the barn, he will have to decide WITCH chore to do hee-hee-hee!
A SHAVE AND A SCARE CUT!

I am just making you kids a little FRIGHT TO EAT here.  It's a little HACK BEFORE DINNER, while we listen to this evening's tale.  I hope you all like bags of FREE-TOES hee-hee-hee-hee!  They are tasty, but they're AS TOUGH AS TOENAILS aha-ha-ha-ha-ha!  Anyways, I title this one...

Back in 1877, a barber within a barbershop over in east-Germany shaved a man's beard.  The barber whistled The Muffin-Man and as he took his razor, he held onto the man's shoulder, blew out the candles around them and slit his throat in the shadows.  "Zere all finished, Mr. Gutenburg.  I no longer have any competition vith you as barber in zis village!" the barber said to the dead man's corpse.  A younger lady came into the barbershop that night.  "Darling, Mr. Gutenburg is not in his own barbershop up ze street zis evening" she informed the barber.  "Oh, hello Ida my Wife.  I um, have not seen him today at all" he uttered to her, putting a pair of scissors away in a drawer.  "Harold I have cooked a roast for our supper zis evening dear" Ida told him.  "Zank you my love" Harold smiled nervously to her.  Six years later, Harold rode in a horse-drawn stage-coach passed an abandoned building with a sign above the door that read, "GUTENBURG'S BARBERSHOPPE" on it in faded white paint.  "Ah, Mr. Vindenheimer, good day to you sir" a gentleman on the brick-street spoke to Harold, as the barber halted his horse with a tug of the reins.  "Good afternoon Villiam Schmidt how are you today sir?" Harold Vindenheimer asked the man.  "Very vell zank you.  Doing vell yourself I hope" William Schmidt uttered.  "Doing fine zank you.  I vas just on my vay to ze bakery!" Harold chimed.  "Ah, I see.  Vell, ze baker is moving to Mr. Gutenburg's old barbershoppe there for a larger bakery, Mr. Vindenheimer" William Schmidt explained to Harold.  "Oh, really?  Vell, good" Harold squeaked out, nervously.

Harold was at his barbershop that evening, and was sweeping the floors.  There were footsteps suddenly coming up stairs.  Harold stopped sweeping, hearing them.  He pressed his ear to a door.  The footsteps came to the other side of the door and it burst-open just then, knocking Harold to the floor, as he yelled.  A decayed-skeleton wearing a white barber outfit was there, moving into the room.  The zombie's bones had a blue color to them, and Harold screamed in horror at the sight of it.  "Mr. Harold Vindenheimer, it is I, Mr. Gutenburg!" the zombie moaned in a distorted-voice.  As Harold got to his feet, the rottng-corpse of Mr. Gutenburg got a razor from on a drawer with his decaying-boney-fingers and as Harold got to the door, the zombie flung it directly into his back within the shadows, murdering him.  Then, the skeleton of Mr. Gutenburg laughed in his distorted voice.

Well, Mr. Gutenburg's zombie got quite SNIPPY with Harold in the end.  I couldn't blame him ever since Harold had given him that GRAVE AND A HAIR CUT eh? ha-ha-ha.  But luckily Mr. Gutenburg got quite SHARP WITH HIM AND MADE THE FINAL CUT heh-heh!
Goblin Candy

Greetings once again BOILS AND GHOULS!  I, CREEPS, have quite a TREAT with a TRICK in this TALE OF HAVOC AND HORROR ON HALLOWEEN I call...

Back on the Eve Of Halloween in 1970, an older man carried a bowl of Hershey Kisses through his hallway to his front door somewhere in southern-Illinois.  A younger lady came down the stairs by the front door and told the older man: "what a waste of candy Frank really".  Oh come on, Irene, it's Halloween.  The kids like it" Frank replied.

The doorbell rang and Frank opened it to a couple kids in witch and mummy costumes.  "Trick-or-treat Mr. Anderson!" the said to Frank.  "Well, here you kids go.  Happy Halloween now" he smiled and gave them some candy.  "Thank you Happy Halloween" they said and ran away.  Later on, Irene caught Frank in the kitchen.  "Aha, you ran out of candy Frank.  Those stupid kids didn't need it anyways!" she told him.  "Irene, they enjoyed it" he answered, with a sigh.  "Oh, the only thing stupider than giving out candy to brain-dead kids, is when I married a brain-dead husband like you" Irene snapped at him.  She walked out of the kitchen and Frank sat at the table, pouring a bottle of brandy into a glass and drinking it down.  The doorbell rang.

Frank Anderson got up and answered it, discovering a wood-box on his doorstep.  He hauled it inside and put it on the kitchen-table.  He opened it easily and a beastly-hand of purple with blue fur and piercing-claws suddenly clung to the side of it.  Frank jumped in horror, but then called, "Irene, please come here".  "What's that box Frank?  Did some kid leave it outside?" she asked.  "Look inside, Irene" he responded and she touched the hand.  It moved in a flash, and it was attached to a blue-fur-covered-goblin, with solid-black eyes and sharpened-fangs.  The monster roared deeply, sinking its fangs into Irene's face, making her scream.  It clawed her chest and Frank looked away, as sounds of eating were heard among Irene's screaming.  A minute later, he saw Irene's skeleton on the floor and the goblin roared and the lid closed on the box.  Frank Anderson sighed in relief and disposed of the box in his pond behind his house immediately.  Then he dumped Irene's skeleton down, into the pond and then returned to his kitchen, drinking the rest of the brandy from the bottle.

Well, poor Frank Anderson finally got a TREAT in the end when he gave Irene a real TRICK eh? hee-hee!  The goblin liked its candy even though it was BITTER aha-ha-ha-ha-ha.  Well, the monster was sure GOBLIN DOWN ITS FOOD heh-heh-heh-heh-heh!